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hugsandchaos · 9 months

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@md-tickle-stuff! *holds this up like a kid’s drawing* Look what I made for you! I used some of your headcanons for it!

“Everything okay, J?” V asked. She had been watching J switch between sitting on a chair and staring at the ceiling in thought, and pacing around with frustration evident in the way she walked, for the past fifteen minutes after telling her what N had done.

J gave an exasperated sigh and sat on the chair again.“Sometimes, I really want to teach him a lesson, but I don’t want to hit him.” J said, half mumbling the last part. She didn’t really want to admit that she did in fact care about N, or that she thought he was scared of her enough, if not more. Then again, she was his new boss, and pretty intimidating and snappy sometimes, so she couldn’t exactly blame him.“What if you tickled him?” V suggested. J paused her train of thought and took a few seconds to process what her squad mate just said. Even when she did, J was still confused. She turned to look at her squad mate.“Excuse me?” She asked.

V either didn’t notice the confusion and slight irritation in her tone or didn’t care.“He’s stupid ticklish, so it shouldn’t be hard to get your point across. Poor boy’s easy to wreck.” She said.

“...Are you serious?” J asked.

“One hundred percent. The funny part is he’ll try not to fight back if you threaten to make it worse if he does.“ V replied. J stared at her dumbfounded for a few more seconds before putting a finger to her chin with a barely audible hum.

Five minutes later, J was making notes of today’s events on a tablet while sitting on one of the two chairs in the pod. She heard a knock and immediately knew who it was.”Come in.” She said. The door opened and her squad mate took a cautious step into the pod.“V told me you wanted to see me?” N asked, failing to hide the nervousness from his voice.

J glanced up from her tablet and gave him a stern glare.”I did. Take a seat.” She instructed. N didn’t exactly rush to the other chair across from her, but he did move tensely and quickly, like always. J turned her tablet off and placed it on the desk full of buttons that didn’t work. She turned back to N and held her stern gaze.“V told me what happened. A storm with 300mph winds and hail the size of manhole covers, and yet you still went outside like we wouldn’t loose a member of our squad.” She said.

“I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t think it was a big deal—“

“That’s enough, N.” J said. N immediately shut up and shrunk a bit into the chair, pulling his arms closer to his chest and lifting his legs a bit. His boss stood up, obviously angry. Angry enough to hit him.“You’ve made three mistakes during your first month here, and this was the worst one! It’s about time you learn what happens when my squad members screw up this bad.” She said in a threatening tone.

N raised his arms up to protect his head and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to be struck or something, not feel two hands dig into his sides. His eyes shot back open and he tried to keep his grinning mouth shut to prevent any laughter from escaping, but it already tickled pretty bad.

Curse the others for getting the tougher metal! N tried to push J’s hands off, but at the same time, he was scared he’d anger her further by doing so, so he only pushed lightly.”Boss, whahat are you dohohoing?” N asked. He mentally cursed himself for letting those few giggles slip through in front of his boss and tried not to squirm.”This is what happens, N. If you try to fight back, it’ll be twice as bad.” J replied.

She continued tickling him as he resisted the urge to push her away and squirmed around in the chair.“Ahahahahaha! Bohohoss! Wahahahaihihit! Hahahahahaha!” N laughed. J obviously didn’t listen. She kept spidering her fingers up and down his sides and occasionally giving them a squeeze. Every time one of her hands went up, N would tense up just a little bit.

J waited a bit to go for the spaces underneath his arms, which made him laugh a little harder and move around a little more. It took a lot of willpower not to pin his arms against his sides and protect himself. He tried not to kick his legs either, but he did pull them up a bit. Not that it did much to help.“Hold still! Geez, you’re squirmy.” J said exasperatedly. Of course, this wasn’t too exaggerated. N was having a hard time not to squirm and was failing pretty badly, but at least he kept his hands from grabbing J’s and pushing them away.

After only a few more seconds, N’s leader seemed to get frustrated enough with his reflexive wiggling.“That’s it! V, get in here!” J called out. Their squad mate soon appeared in the doorway and took a moment to lean against it.“Need some help?” V asked. She couldn’t help but smile a bit at the scene in front of her.“He won’t stay still!” J said.

“IhIhIhI’m tryhyhyihihing!! Ihihihit tihihickles!! Hahahahahahaha!!” N laughed. V walked over and grabbed both of N’s wrists, lifting his arms above his head and leaving multiple spots open to attack. For some reason, he laughed just a tiny bit harder, as if being unable to protect himself from tickle attacks made them tickle more.“There. Oh, by the way, have you tried his belly?” V asked.

“His belly?” J asked, just to confirm. N turned around to give his squad mate a glare, but it wasn’t very intimidating with how he was still smiling and giggling a bit.“V, why?!” He asked. A smug grin appeared on V’s face as J moved her hands to N’s belly.“Boss’s orders, N. Sorry, not sorry.” She shrugged. N turned back just before the attack and immediately panicked.

“Wait, wai—AIIIIEHEHEHEHEHAHAHA!!” He could barely finish his word with how much he was laughing. He tugged on his arms out of reflex, but V wasn’t going to let go.”NOHOHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!” N could barely control his urge to wiggle out of this situation and definitely couldn’t control his laughter even if he tried.

His belly was a death spot, and V knew it. She would try to tickle him there every tickle fight they had, and that’s how she’d win. Or by tackling one of his other death spots. And now J knew about it.”HAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! IHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHORRY!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHA!!” N cackled. His boss ignored him and kept scribbling and spidering her fingers over his belly, occasionally digging down to make him laugh a little more.”HAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

After two more minutes, J stopped and V let go. N rolled off of the chair and curled into himself on the floor to shield his belly from further attacks. After just a few seconds, J glanced over at V.

Too far?

V shook her head and displayed a message on her own screen, getting the hint that J didn’t want to say it out loud.

Give him a minute

When N caught his breath and stood up, V glanced over at J, as if expecting her to say something.”I assume you’ve learned your lesson?” She asked.

“Yes, boss.“ N replied. J picked her tablet back up and went back to what she was working on. V wasn’t done, though. She grinned at N and lifted her hands up with a slow, stalkish step forward.”Since you already got wrecked by J, I’ll give you a five second head start.” She said.

N bolted out of there and V burst out in maniacal giggles at his reaction.

#murder drones #murder drones n #murder drones v #murder drones j #lee n #ler j #ler v #murder drones tickles

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johannestevans · 5 months

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have you ever done any fics for House MD?

I've just got the one that's up on Ao3!

Experimentation

Rated M, 2.7k. House tries something new on Wilson.

“So. Ditched Christmas with the wife for a cripple, huh?” House asked. He looked up from his noodles as he said it, meeting Wilson’s gaze on the chair beside the couch, and he saw the shift in Wilson’s face, the way he shut down just a little bit. House was drunk. He was aware of that, was aware of the pleasant buzz that rested between his ears. They’d bought some wine at the liquor store when they’d picked up the takeout, and it turned out a nice, cheap claret paired well with Vicodin and chow mein.

“Like you said, I’m Jewish,” Wilson said.

“Yeah, and married,” House said. “What, she made a nice dinner, and you ditched… for this?”

“House,” Wilson said.

“Hey, no judgement,” House said. “Just seems weird, that’s all. Ditching your bed to sleep on my couch. I mean, if you’re gonna cheat on your wife, you might as well really cheat.”

“I’ve ditched important stuff for you before,” Wilson said with a roll of his eyes.

“But this isn’t for me,” House said. “This is for you, you jackass. Can’t use your drug addict bestie as an excuse for everything.”

“I just didn’t feel like it,” Wilson said, and House could see the tell-tale signs of the hackles rising as he leaned forward, feeling his body pleasantly separated from his motor centre, the way he swayed just a little too far forward, the way he set the box down just a little too hard down on the coffee table. “She’s stifling, House, that’s all, and sometimes I just don’t want to be alone with her.”

“Oh, but me, I’m not stifling,” House said.

“Are you complaining that I want to spend time with you?”

“No,” House said, lurching slightly on his feet as he stepped forward, delicately taking the box out of Wilson’s hand and setting it on the coffee table. It looked nice outside. Dark. Cool. Not freezing cold, just… mild. Enough to be glad to be inside, and away from it. He had a thick blanket on his bed, and some stupid, knitted throw Wilson – or was it Julie? No, it was Wilson, it would have been Wilson who thought of putting something on House’s bed, who thought of House being cold – had got him a few birthdays back.

“House, I was eating that,” Wilson said. To House’s mild (although not exactly surprised) curiosity, Wilson’s body language did not change as House stood between his knees, which were slightly parted where he lounged back in the chair. This was a new experiment. Not one, in fact, that he’d tried on Wilson before, which was questionable, given how long they’d been friends, but—

Well. This wasn’t just a prank, or a test of his sensibilities. This was a slightly more extreme experiment than House generally went in for, because this was a new kinda bridge to burn, a new frontier. The wine made it easier. The fact that Wilson was Wilson made it even easier.

“Can I help you?” Wilson asked, his head tipping back, and his eyes narrow as he looks House over, as if searching him for some kind of evidence, some kind of clue, as to what he’s gonna do next, what he’s gonna say next. “What?” House looked down at him, and Wilson shifted, leaning forward slightly, and said, “House, for God’s sake, if this is one of your stupid mind games let me finish my—”

House leaned in, his head tilting to the side, and caught Wilson’s mouth under his own, leaning in between his spread knees, letting his own rest – with his weight on his good leg – on the sofa’s edge. Wilson’s mouth was hot under his own, and his body was warm, too, warm, bigger than most of the hookers House was used to, with more average proportions. Light muscle in the shoulders, a soft belly, square shoulders… Of course, there was no make-up, no perfume, either. No fishnets, although—

This was the big gamble. This was all the money on the black 33, and the wheel was spinning, spinning, spinning…

And Wilson’s mouth opened wider, letting House kiss him properly, letting House’s tongue come up against his. Their lips smacked against one another, and House didn’t let his body react when Wilson’s hands came up to touch House’s hips, touching the hem of his t-shirt where it lay over his jeans, the touch featherlight, as if he thought he’d get smacked away.

Read more here.

#hilson #musings #house md

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softsnzstuff · 9 months

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OF/MD College Rowing AU

Hi guys, this has been in the works for MONTHS and I finally finished it. It’s my new AU based on my own experience from college 😁 special shout-out to @peach-plumb-pear2 , @softersteve and @sniffles-and-tickles for letting me brainstorm with them! I really hope you like it. I have the whole AU fully flushed out and have more coming hopefully.

Summary: Ed gets sick but comes to practice anyways. Stede tries to usher him home and get him the rest and meds he needs. ((Originally for Sicktember prompt - the only place we’re going is the pharmacy))

OH! And also Stede has the kink 😈

Word Count: 1.85k

*~*~*~*~*

The annoying yet rhythmic quack of Apple’s “Duck” alarm tone pierced through the air, awaking 22 year old Stede Bonnet from his sleep. He didn’t need to look at the clock to know it was 5:15am - the same time his alarm went off every weekday.

He groaned, desperately wanting to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but the guilt of his teammates practicing without him won once again. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and rubbed at his head before walking over to his dresser. He pulled out some basketball shorts and a tattered old tee shirt to put on under his jacket.

He opened his door a crack and called out, “Lucius?”

“Yes yes, I’m up…” came a grumbled reply from his roommate, who emerged from the bathroom, also wearing workout clothes and a jacket.

“Oh good! Thought I’d have to wake you again.” He smiled, bending down to lace up his athletic shoes.

“Tell me again why you got me to sign up for this.” Lucius quipped sarcastically.

The younger man liked to complain about the early morning wake up calls and physical labor, but he was actually quite good at the sport, teammates not letting him leave.

“You know you like it Lucius. Let’s go.” Stede grabbed their apartment key off the table and the two boys headed out the front door.

Lucius shivered as the cool autumn air hit his bare legs. The turning of the seasons meant a crisp chill in the mornings and evenings. It was still dark out, stars speckling the sky.

It was roughly 5:40 now. Practice started at 6am and they had a ten minute walk to get there. The college was nice enough to let the rowing team use the abandoned basketball stadium for practices (since the basketball and volleyball teams got a newly renovated one on the other side of campus). When they weren’t out on the water in the reservoir, they were doing land practice here at this ungodly hour.

The two walked in content silence, both still waking up. When they got inside the court, Lucius almost immediately split off from Stede to go and sit with Pete, who was fixing his shoes in the corner. Most other teammates were either talking or stretching, waiting for the clock to hit 6 for morning warm-ups.

Stede scanned the room before a voice came out behind him.

“If you’re looking for Ed, he’s on the bleachers. Pretending not to be under the weather.”

It was the team’s coxswain, Izzy, a 25 year old grad student and Ed’s good friend and roommate.

“Oh! Good morning, Izzy!” Stede chirped, “Under the weather??”

Izzy rolled his eyes and walked away, Stede growing more concerned as he spotted his friend sitting on the bleachers.

Ed was normally full of energy, bouncing around the room and giving people shit. But today, he was in sweatpants and a hoodie, leaning his head in one hand and scrubbing at his nose with the sleeve of the other.

Stede looked at his watch. 5:55. They had a few minutes before the co-captains had to start practice. The blonde walked over and plopped himself down next to Ed. Up close, he noticed the older man’s eyes were red and wet, in a similar condition to his nose.

“Ed have you been crying?” Stede asked.

“No, but I have been snFF! sneezing…” as if on cue, he brought the sleeves of both his hands up over his face. “T’sssSHIEW! Hh- h’tschIYUE!”

Stede’s heart fluttered. He always sneezed a bit dramatically like this - higher pitched at the end in a way that was very fitting for Ed. But these seemed more desperate than usual.

He pulled a tissue out of his hoodie pocket and blew his nose into it. When he noticed Stede eyeballing him, he paused, mumbling over the tissue. “Grown’d men can carry tissues Stede.”

“I know!” Stede felt bad for staring, “Are you under the weather?”

“N’do. Who told you that? Izzy??” Ed spotted the man across the court and flipped him off. “I’m okay Stede.”

Stede wasn’t quite buying it but knew Ed could be stubborn when he wanted to be, so he chose to let it be for now.

“Alright gang, it’s 6! Let’s hit our 3 laps and then warm ups!”

They all looked on, waiting for Ed to say something as co-captain.

“You heard the man! Fucking move it!” Ed added before hopping down and joining them in the laps around the court.

When they’d finished running, they formed lines. One behind Ed and one behind Stede. They took turns going back and forth across the court, doing high knees, crossovers, lunges, and other stretches.

By 6:10 they’d heard announcements from the coaches and were onto the meat and bones of the workout. Ed’s group was starting with body weight workouts on one half of the court and Stede’s group started off on the ergs. At 7am they would switch.

This was something they did every day - it wasn’t new by any means, but today Ed just felt bone tired. By the time 7 rolled around, he just wanted to lie down.

He grabbed his water bottle and took a sip before coughing into his elbow and patting his chest. Stede walked over, having just hopped off the erg. “Okay there?”

Ed cleared his throat, “M’okay. Probably just tired - eht’schYUE!”

“Bless you.” Stede choked out as casually as possible.

“Thanks mate.” Ed clapped a hand on Stede’s back as he made his way to the ergs as they switched.

When the second round of workouts ended, the team gathered together to do their 1 minute of jump squats before practice officially ended. Ed looked pale and sweaty, slowly making his way over to collect his things.

“Think you’re right Stede. I feel sick.” Ed rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes. “Might skip my classes today.”

“You’re missing the fundraiser tonight?”

“Pfff! No! When did I say that?” Ed chuckled, remembering the annual fundraiser dinner that the team had scheduled today.

“Ed, if you’re too sick for class you shouldn’t be at the fundraiser.” Stede said gently.

“Then I think I’m feeling better actually. Save me a seat in Economics yeah?”

Stede nodded, feeling bad for mentioning the fundraiser. Now Ed thought he had to power through the day if that meant he could make an appearance at the event.

---

Stede was thankful that he had time to go back to the apartment and shower before he had morning classes. He was also feeling thankful that Ed was able to do the same. Both of their first classes of the day was Economics 400.

As usual Stede was there early, having had time to pick up two teas at the campus cafe on his way there. He sat towards the back with his backpack in the seat next to him.

A chesty cough made Stede (and a few others) look up and towards the door. Ed walked in, showered and in a different hoodie and joggers. He waved to Stede as the younger man moved his backpack for Ed to sit.

Ed slumped into the seat, dropping his bag on the floor and resting his head in his arms. Stede frowned as he coughed again.

“How are you feeling, Ed?”

Ed groaned in response. “I feel… hih! N’xxTCH! T’schiew!” He turned his head slightly to muffle the sneezes into his hoodie. “Feel like shit mate.”

“Bless.” Stede held out the second paper cup to his buddy, “Brought you a tea with seven sugars. Might help your throat?”

Ed picked his head up slightly and smiled, “Thag’ks.”

As he was taking a sip, Stede noticed the haze to his eyes and slight flush spread across his cheeks. Before he even knew what he was doing, Stede had leaned over and pressed a gentle yet firm hand on Ed’s forehead.

“Ed. You have a fever! You should be at home resting.”

Ed shrugged, “No, I need to be here so I can go to the fundraiser tonight.”

“The only place you’re going is the pharmacy.” Stede stood up and swung his bag over his shoulder, “Come on. I’ll take you.”

The older man was skeptical at first, but eventually stood up, grabbing his own bag and his tea before following Stede out of the classroom.

They were lucky there was a small grocery store right across the street from campus, by the duplex Ed and Izzy were renting out. Stede grabbed a small basket as they strode through the pharmacy section.

Stede stopped in the cold and flu aisle, perusing the different options. Ed stood next to Stede, leaning his head on Stede’s shoulder.

The younger man glanced over, gently tapping his head against Ed’s. “I got you daytime and nighttime meds. Cough drops. You need anything else?”

“Eh’tszzsh!” Ed snapped forward with the first sneeze, instinctually curing into Stede with the second, “K’itssch!”

Stede jumped from the shock. “B- bless you.”

Ed’s sneezes we’re becoming more tired sounding and less dramatic in nature. A sure fire sign that he really wasn’t feeling well.

“I’m so sorry Stede.” Ed started apologizing for sneezing against Stede’s chest. What Stede couldn’t say in the moment was that he actually liked it. A lot.

“It’s okay Ed. Let’s maybe grab some tissues?” He suggested, “And then we can get you home.”

Ed nodded and swiped at the underside of his nose. As Stede checked out, he thanked god for Ed living so close. The older man was very quickly taking a turn for the worse.

“I’ll pay you back for that stuff.” Ed mumbled weakly on the walk back towards the duplex.

“Don’t worry about it, Ed. I just want you to get better.”

When they got to the apartment, Ed dropped his backpack on the floor by the dining room table. Izzy’s stuff was gone. He was probably in class still.

Stede set the bag on the counter and started taking all the different medications out. When he turned around, Ed was face down on the couch.

“Ed. I really think you should take this before you pass out.”

Stede had been to Ed’s enough times to know where he kept his water cups. He filled up a glass of water and brought it over along with the daytime medicine.

“Shits fucking disgusting…” Ed grumbled into the cushions before propping himself up on an elbow to knock back the medicine and take a sip of water.

“Good job, now you can get some rest. Don’t worry about the fundraiser okay? I’m telling Izzy you’re staying home.”

Ed groaned behind closed eyes, already letting sleep claim him for the day. Stede smiled and draped the thin throw blanket over his crush.

“Sweet dreams, Ed.”

#of/md #college rowing AU #s/tede b/onnet #e/dward t/each #i/zzy h/ands #l/ucius s/priggs #Kb AU’s #Kb writes #snzblr #snz kink #b/lackbonnet

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outsideratheart · 2 years

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Only a Blue For You (Leila Ouahabi x reader)

A/N: Technically this is a continuation of Never Go To Bed Angry but I feel like it can be read as a stand alone fic. Also, I am not a huge fan of the name but i couldn’t think of anything else.

This summer has been the best of your life so far. Winning the Euros in your home country is something that you only ever dreamt off. You remember when the final whistle blew, you were overwhelmed with emotions but you were able to keep it together that was until you saw Leila in the crowd wearing an England shirt with Y/L/N and 7 on the back, you had swapped it with her after the Spain game.

You both attended the after party together and it was nice to see Leila mingle with her new team mates. You would never admit it to her but you spoke to a couple of the players, Keira, Alex and of course Vicky and asked if they would keep an eye on her for you. Truth is, you never wanted the tournament to end, one of the reasons being because it was like euphoria, the fans supported you every game and it made you feel unstoppable. The main reason though, it meant that Leila would officially move to Manchester and one half of your bed would remain cold until she returned.

After the Arnold cup the two of you spoke in detail about her move. She kept you in the loop with every decision she made and in the end she did sign with Manchester City.

Throughout preseason it was obvious that you missed Leila, you were a little off at training and the smile that only she could bring to your face never appeared. That is until Lucy came then you slowly began to open up and soon the old Y/N came back.

You had just returned from Toulouse. The players were walking to their cars when Lucy first brought up the idea about going to Madrid to watch City play Real Madrid. Just how you missed Leila, she missed Keira. You looked at your schedule and saw that you had a morning training session which meant you had the afternoon off.

“We will have to leave straight after training and come back the same night as will have MD-1 training the day after” you explained to the defender. You were more than happy to make the trip but as one of the captains you had to make sure she knew that there were rules.

“Deal. It’s just so hard, you know? What am I talking about, of course you know. In fact it must be harder for you, Leila is your wife”

You give Lucy a look, one of the few looks which tells her to stop talking.

“Sorry” she apologies.

“It’s ok. I knew the first couple of weeks would be the hardest but I didn’t expect this” you dip your head “you have made it better though. I have swapped my actual wife for my England wife”

“Technically I am your Barcelona wife now too”

You laugh at Lucy’s remark.

“It was are being technical” You mock Lucy’s words “Alexia is my work wife as we have a lot of commitments together off the pitch”

“So I am your Barcelona side piece”

“Is that really want you me to call you?” You ask not liking that way it sounded.

Lucy’s expression let’s you know she feels the same way “No, I don’t like it”

“That’s what I though. I will pick you up for training in the morning then will can go straight to the airport”

*******************

You arrive at the stadium just before kick off. Lucy decided she wanted to keep her visit a secret so that she could surprise her girlfriend. You jumped on the band wagon but knew it would be difficult, especially because you were joining some of the Atleti girls in a box they had bought.

You cannot remember the last time you ever watched Leila play for a club and you wasn’t either on the pitch with her or watching from the bench.

When the starting line up came over the speakers you couldn’t help but cheer when Leila’s name was called.

“I thought you said you were keeping things quiet?” Lola teases.

“Me, quiet, never? Truth is I’m surprised I have got this far without her finding out. Me and Lucy met some fans on our way in, they asked for pictures but I asked them to wait until after the game, I can’t believe they actually have”

“What do you expect? We are in Madrid, the people are nice here” Lola makes a subtle dig which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“First of all I never said I didn’t like people from Madrid, I’m friends with you aren’t I?” You joke “I said that the fans are a little hostile at our games and secondly we are at a Madrid game, you feel the same as I do about their fans”

Lola hums in agreement before she turns her attention to the pitch where the players have lined up.

Leila ends up getting subbed off at half time. When she is on the bench she looks up the the big screen, seeing some of her national team mates. What she doesn’t expect to see though is to see you sitting with them.

“So much for a surprise?” Lucy nudges you.

“Keira is still playing. With her tunnel vision, she won’t have noticed the screen”

“I hope so”

You loved how smitten one of your best friends was.

The full time whistle blows and you feel bad for the blues, the loss meaning that their champions league dreams were over.

Shortly after you receive a text from your wife.

I can’t believe you came. Meet me pitch side

Then another one came through.

Keira said to bring Lucy

“We are been summoned” you show Lucy the text you received from Leila.

The two of you say goodbye to your friends, letting them know that you would catch up with them soon.

Once down near the pitch you and Lucy rest against the railings waiting for your better half’s to come out.

You are so caught up in the conversation that you are having with your team mate that you don’t realise Leila standing beside you on the pitch.

“I remember you saying that you would wear a Spain shirt when you come to watch me?” Leila says.

Your eyes meet hers. Both of you standing there taking each other in.

“I’m just going to wait over there” Lucy says awkwardly as she leaves the two of you alone.

You look around, making sure that security aren’t looking at you before you hop over the barrier not wanting to apart from your wife a second longer.

“You’re crazy” Leila giggles as you wrap your arms around her, holding her tighter than you ever have before.

“Only for you my love” you place a kiss on her temple.

As you close your eyes you inhale deeply, Leila’s scent reminding you of home, more so than your actually home does.

“How’s Manchester?” You ask.

Her face drops at your question. You know that she had been struggling, Vicky told you this much when you called to check in on your wife. After one of your daily facetimes you could tell something was wrong but Leila being Leila kept it to herself.

“I miss home” She answers honestly.

“If it makes you feel any better, it isn’t home without you. Everything is off, I spent the first week after you left sleeping on the couch because the bed felt empty without you. Then I got in trouble from the physio because my back started hurting. I have somehow de scented all of the clothes you left, well mainly the hoodies, t-shirts and joggers”

“You want this one?” She asks as she holds out her Nike hoodie, you nod eagerly.

She teasingly holds out the hoodie before retracting it.

“Hey!” You groan.

Leila laughs at your childish response.

“I need something in return” she pulls at the t-shirt you are wearing.

“But I don’t have anything underneath” you explain.

The Spanish woman’s facial expression let’s you know that she already knew that.

“I see your game Ouahabi. Let me guess, you wouldn’t happen to have a blue shirt for me to wear” she nods her head before pulling out the shirt that she had tucked into the back of her shorts.

“No. I love you but I would rather walk around in my bra then wear that shirt. I love you but you know I could never cheat on my gunners like that”

Leila calls your bluff. She holds her hands out waiting for your shirt, knowing full well that you can’t say no to her.

Two can play this game.

You pull your shirt over your head, only your Calvin Klein bralette covering your upper half.

“I feel like this is a win win situation for me. I either see you wear my city shirt or no shirt at all” Leila has a Cheshire cat grin on her face.

You give her a disapproving stare.

“I have just thought of 6 more reasons why I miss you” She whispers as she steps closer, running her fingers over your abs.

Her touch gives you goosebumps. You have been counting down the days until you could hold her, touch her, just have her close. Now you didn’t think that it would happen at Alfredo Di Stéfano but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Leila question bring your back to the present.

“You. This” you say you wrap your arms around her neck. Hers still resting comfortable on your torso.

Her facial expression changes to match yours.

“It a lot harder than I thought” Leila admits.

“I know but that is because we are so used to spending everyday together. There are plenty of couples who play for different teams. We just have to find our new normal” you hope to reassure her.

Your wife hums in agreement, her focus not on what you are saying but more so on the lips that are saying them. She lifts her hand to your face, her thumb softly strokes your lower lip. You close your eyes as you savour her touch.

The feeling of her thumb is soon replaced by the feeling of her lips on yours. Over the years you have shared many kisses with Leila but this one was different, the hunger you both had for one another is evident. Much to your surprise Leila takes control as she pushes you back against the railing as she deepens the kiss. It is when you feel her tongue graze against your lips that you decide to take back control, in a quick move you turn her around.

The two of your are so caught up in the moment that you don’t hear your England team mates shouting of you. It is only when you hear someone clear their throat that you pull away, feeling like two kids that have been caught making out on the playground.

“5 more minutes?” You whine.

“What are you a child?” Lucy says.

You stick you tongue out which only aids the defender’s point.

“Leave my wife alone” Leila warns playfully “Barcelona side piece”

You burst of laughing at the mention of the short lived nickname.

“How do you know about that?” Lucy asks slightly embarrassed.

“I have my ways” your wife replies coyly.

“Mapi?” You ask knowing that she had been giving Leila updates on you, Leila nods her head.

Meanwhile Keira is watching the three of you with a confused look on her face.

“Trust me Ke, you don’t want to know”

You hold you hand out which Leila happily takes as the four of you walk through the tunnel and to the exit where the majority of the team is.

Keira stops walking, making to go into the back of her. When she turns around she just looks at you, not saying a word.

“Not that I am complaining but you really need to put a shirt on” Leila tells you.

Deep down you know she is right but your stubbornness causes to to hesitate. You look down at the blue shirt, then up at your wife, then back down at the shirt. Still not wanting to put it on.

“Cariño, put on the shirt”

“Fine” you growl.

Placing the Manchester City shirt over your head feels wrong, almost dirty. Playing for Barca as long as you have and being raised an arsenal makes wearing any shirts, other than the aforementioned, makes your feel traitorous.

“Oh, I gotta take a photo this” Lucy teases.

You snatch the phone out of her hands.

“Absolutely not” you say without a change a breath, letting your friend know that you are serious.

Lucy simply raises her hands in defeat.

A few minutes later and you are at the player entrance/exit of the stadium.

Lucy burst into laughter as she reaches the door first, earning an elbow to her side from Keira.

Once the door opens, you find out what was funny. There are fans and photographers outside waiting for the players. Leila turns to you, an apologetic look on her face.

“Y/N—“

“Give me my t-shirt back, please” you beg your wife.

Your reaction causes her to laugh and when Keira opens the door you hear the fans, you eyes going wide.

She gives your hand a squeeze before leading you outside.

You and Lucy stand to the side whilst your partners take photos with the people who have travelled to Spain to watch them play.

“Y/N, come here” Leila shouts of you.

You do as you’re told but stand behind her, you arms wrapping around her waist. The fan who Leila is talking to awe’s at the two of you.

“Hiding the shirt?” Leila whispers in your hear.

“Mmhm” you reply to which she places a sweet kiss on your cheek.

The two of you talk to her for a couple of minutes before she asks for a photo with the two of you.

“Si,claro” Leila replies before looking at you, mentally asking if you are going to hide behind her the entire time.

Fuck it

After taking the photo with the fan, you ask her if she would take a photo of you and Leila.

When Leila asks to see it you shake your head as you quickly put your phone in your pocket.

Soon enough the time comes to say goodbye, something that you had been dreading the entire night. Luckily for you Security told the fans that they hand to move to outside the stadium giving you and Leila some privacy.

“Come home with me?” you ask as you hold her in your arms knowing that it cannot happen.

“I can’t, I have to go back to Manchester” She replies.

“Worth a try” you admit.

Leila buries herself in the crook of your neck as your chin rests on her head. You wish you could stay in this moment forever but the world isn’t easy that way.

She tries to wriggle from your grasp earning a groan in response. Her action causes the opposite reaction as to what she was hoping as you tighten your hold on her.

When Leila looks at you she sees the sadness in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that” Leila pleads.

Your try you best to smile, to show her that you are ok but when it doesn’t reach your eyes she realises just how much you are struggling. You look down as you play with your wedding ring.

“Baby” Leila reaches for you hands as she intertwines your fingers with her own, you look up at her “It’s only a month, we can do this”

A genuine smile tugs at your lips. You remember when you told Leila about your game against the US at Wembley, you were so excited but not as much as when she asked if you could get her a ticket so that she could come and watch.

“I think I can handle one month” you admit.

When Lauren draws the short straw, it is her who has to come and tell the two of you that it is time to go. You pull Leila into for a short kiss, not wanting to embarrass her in front of her new team.

“See you in London” you steal one more kiss before you watch her leave.

Later on that night you post the photo of you and Leila outside Alfredo Di Stéfano with the caption It’s not about the badge on the front, it’s about the name on the back.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #leila ouahabi one shot #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi imagine #espwnt one shot #espwnt imagine #espwnt x reader #mcwfc x reader

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goldenraeofsun · 2 years

Text

Day 7: Fine Wine

“You aged like fine wine.”

Castiel chokes on his drink. He slowly turns on his barstool to see a stranger swaying slightly in place. A light sheen of grease – or cheap gel – reflects off his hair in the lights behind the bar, and twin lilac bags sag underneath each eye.

“Pardon?” Castiel says. He discreetly sniffs, but the man must have showered more recently than his appearance suggests. Either that, or he simply drank enough so the scent of alcohol masks the smell of body odor.

“You’re Cas – Castiel,” the man says as he braces himself on the bar and laboriously climbs on the stool next to Castiel. He adds, almost accusatory. “Dr. James Novak of Seattle Mercy Hospital.”

Castiel’s jaw drops.

He hasn’t gone by Dr. Novak in close to fifteen years. He was twenty-two when he got his first role on a longstanding medical soap opera (an impossible age for a doctor of his character’s reported caliber, but Castiel was assured this was normal at SMH).

When Dr. Novak was killed off for the sixth and final time, Castiel went on to play a few bit parts in CSI and Law & Order spin offs. He reached the pinnacle of his acting career a few years ago with his starring role in Hell Hazers II and a seven-line part in a Marvel movie. Afterwards, the acting jobs seemed to dry up, or maybe Castiel was tired of the constant sisyphean cycle of auditions chewed him up and spit him out a little worse than before.

Currently, he teaches high school drama in a local private school. While it doesn’t fill him creatively, he can’t say the same for his bank account.

“I, yes, I was,” Castiel fumbles. He hasn’t gotten recognized since his Dr. Sexy, MD days, and, even then, it didn’t happen frequently.

The man beams, and the smile transforms his face. He looks almost handsome. “Knew it,” he says. “’M Dean.”

“You already know my name,” Castiel replies, unsure of how to proceed. He’d come to the bar for a quiet celebratory drink – he’d finally finished all his college recommendation letters in time for early decision deadlines. On the other hand, Dean wasn’t technically bothering him as Castiel didn’t have many plans to bother.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees with a long sigh. “Figures I’d run into you today.”

Castiel has no idea what that means.

Dean points a shaking finger in Castiel’s face. “You’re the reason I became a doctor.”

Castiel’s mouth falls open. After a beat, he forces out, “You’re not serious.”

“As a heart attack.” Dean chuckles, the sound grim and humorless.

“I – I’m sorry?” Castiel tries, feeling entirely off balance with the abrupt turn of their conversation.

“Don’t be,” Dean says bitterly. “Not your fault I killed a patient today.”

Castiel shoves his horror down. With a determinedly neutral expression, he says, “I’m sure it’s not your fault,” because he didn’t act in 147 episodes of a medical soap opera for nothing.

Dean shakes his head, tapping the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “A double of Jack for me, and one more of whatever my friend here is drinking.”

As the bartender moves back down the bar to prepare Dean’s order, Castiel frowns. “Are you sure you should be having another?”

Dean scowls. “’M not on call for another 48 hours.”

Castiel gives him a deliberate once-over. “I was referring to your current state of drunkenness.”

Dean waves his concern away. “’M fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

Dean exhales an explosive sigh. “You fuck up a aortic dissection repair on a twelve-year-old who just wanted to perform in her school dance recital next month, and tell me you’re all hunky dory after.”

He’s a surgeon. A pediatric cardiac surgeon.

Castiel inspired a pediatric surgeon?

He leans in, his heart twinging in sympathy for both Dean and his late patient. “I’m sure there were complications.”

Dean mutters, “High blood pressure and Type 2 diabetes.”

Castiel lays a hand on Dean’s arm. “I may not be a real doctor, but I spoke often enough with our medical experts to know those aren’t inconsequential conditions when it comes to your specialty.”

Dean harrumphs and greedily grabs the drink the bartender sets down before the pair of them. He takes a long pull of his whiskey. “But enough about me. How come you quit acting?”

Castiel shrugs. “It’s a hard life,” he says vaguely, continuing as Dean makes a go on gesture with his free hand. “I was tired of not landing parts and struggling to make my rent each month. I gave it until I turned thirty, and, well, you can guess what happened next.”

Dean snorts into his glass. “At thirty, I wasn’t even done with my residency.” He casts Castiel a surprisingly shrewd look for how much he’s had to drink. “I think you gave up too early. You were doing good stuff.”

Castiel’s biggest sore spot throbs painfully. “Forgive me for tiring of living off PB&Js and inhabiting a technically illegal bedroom according to the housing code of Los Angeles.”

But Dean just huffs a dry laugh. “You haven’t suffered until you try to convince your way too smart younger brother that fluff marshmallow mix and macaroni is exotic and not a move of pure desperation.”

Castiel chokes on his next sip. “That sounds horrendous,” he says, his temper softening.

“Yeah, well, it was food, so,” Dean shrugs, “he ate it eventually. There weren’t that many options while snowed in at the Royale Motel in Scranton.” He tips back the rest of his drink. “We moved around a lot, growing up,” he says, spinning the empty glass between his fingers. “Sometimes the only things I could rely on were the daytime soaps.”

Castiel’s heart breaks. “I would have thought you would have become an actor, in that case.”

Dean laughs. “My old man said actors made shit money, so I picked something else.”

Castiel can’t help rolling his eyes, chuckling lightly under his breath. “Your father was right.”

“Guess so,” Dean says thoughtfully. “D’you miss it?”

Castiel nods. “Every day.”

Dean leans in and lays his hand over Castiel’s. He throws a significant glance at their empty glasses. “Whaddya say we get out of here?” he asks in a suggestive voice.

Castiel blinks. “I – I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Dean pulls back at once, but not before Castiel catches the hurt on his face.

“You’re drunk,” Castiel says gently. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

Dean grunts but gets to his feet without arguing. “’S fine,” he mutters. “Had to shoot my shot, right?”

“Of course,” Castiel says, not exactly sure what he’s agreeing to, but it’s evidently the right thing to say since Dean just nods and starts to walk away, reaching into his jacket. But, to Castiel’s alarm, he pulls out a set of car keys instead of his phone to call a taxi.

Castiel hurries after him. “Dean!” he calls.

Outside the bar, Dean turns around, a smirk playing across his lips. “Change your mind, big guy?”

“What? No,” Castiel says as Dean tenses. “But you can’t drive,” he says helplessly.

Dean scowls. “I’m not that drunk.”

“I’m pretty sure you are.”

Dean rolls his eyes so hard Castiel is surprised they don’t pop out of his skull. “Out of the two of us, only one has a real medical license.”

Castiel crosses his arms over chest. “If you won’t call a cab, come to my apartment. It’s just down the street.”

Dean step forward, and Castiel lets out a silent sigh of relief. “Your apartment?” he repeats.

“So you can sober up,” Castiel says resolutely.

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. “Lead the way, Dr. Novak.”

* * *

Castiel wakes up with a crick in his neck and a shooting pain in his lower back. He never made it to bed after talking with Dean for hours on his sofa in his living room.

A muttered swear comes from behind him, and Castiel cranes his head around to see Dean, still wearing his clothes from last night, bent over Castiel’s finicky coffee machine.

“You have to flip the switch on the side,” he tells Dean as he gets to his feet.

“Mornin’,” Dean says with a grin. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“Thanks for not throwing up on my couch and trying to make me coffee.” Castiel slides around Dean to open the cabinet with his mugs. He pulls out his favorite sky blue cup.

“C’mon, I wasn’t that bad.”

After some rooting around, Castiel finds the novelty Dr. Sexy, MD mug he received in a gift basket on his last day of filming.

Dean laughs out loud as he takes it from Castiel. “It’s even got his cowboy boots!” he exclaims as he inspects it from every angle.

Castiel nods, turning so Dean can’t see his smile. “You’re welcome to take it,” he says. “I have far more mugs than I need for one person.”

“Aw man, don’t tell me that,” Dean groans, “or else I’ll actually do it.”

“Take it,” Castiel says firmly as he pours coffee into Dean’s new mug.

Dean cradles to his chest, breathing in deeply. He inhales half of it in one go, to Castiel’s concern. “Christ, that’s the stuff.” He meets Castiel’s astounded gaze with a little grin. He polishes off his cup in the same time it takes Castiel to add enough sugar and cream to his satisfaction. “Coffee is practically a pro sport for surgeons; you have no idea. But I’ll get out of your hair after this,” Dean says, an apologetic note to his words, “but do you mind if I leave my number before I head out?”

Castiel gapes at him before he realizes Dean doesn’t see his answer as so obvious it goes without saying. “Yes, of course,” he says in a rush, half a beat too late.

Dean grins. “Awesome. You were always on my celebrity hall pass list.” At Castiel’s furrowed look of confusion, Dean’s smile broadens. “You know, that list of longshots that’ll never happen so you might as well give your girlfriend the OK to sleep with Idris Elba or Hugh Jackman or Chris Hemsworth.”

Castiel watched enough Marvel movies to prepare for his own role to know what all those actors look like. “I’m nothing like those men,” he splutters.

“Well, yeah, everyone has a weird one – my last boyfriend would’ve fucked Scar from the Lion King if given half the chance.”

“A flattering comparison,” Castiel deadpans as Dean chuckles.

Once Dean washes out his mug (he insists on it), grabs his jacket, and inputs his phone number in Castiel’s cell, there’s no reason for him to linger.

Castiel awkwardly trades goodbyes on his threshold before he shuts the door behind Dean.

He thinks about calling for the rest of the day. Dean is his first thought on Saturday morning too, but he concludes it’s too soon.

He debates reaching out on Sunday, but 48 hours have passed since their first meeting, so Dean’s probably in surgery. It’s clearly a bad time to make contact.

By Monday, Castiel talks himself out of it altogether. Dean is a pediatric surgeon at one of the most prestigious hospital systems in the county (Castiel looked him up on the off chance Dean wasn’t being truthful, but his degrees are published on the hospital website for all to see.)

Dean saves lives every day.

Castiel is a washed up actor who peaked a decade ago. The closest he got to saving a life was convincing Siobhan that getting bangs a week before school picture day would not be in her best interest.

But Castiel won’t let his strange run in with Dean mean nothing. In a fit of productivity one weekend, exactly one month after Dean stayed the night at his apartment, he stops by the local theater and marks down the day of their next auditions.

In January, he tries out for a small play written by a local playwright, and wins a part. Not the lead, but a good, meaty character part.

He mostly forgets about Dean in between classes and his own rehearsals – until the director hands out their complimentary tickets. None of Castiel’s family live in the area, and his friend, Meg, is out of town that week.

As Castiel wracks his brains for someone to invite, he can’t help but keep coming back to Dean.

He chickens out of actually calling Dean and instead sends him a picture of the tickets with the date prominently displayed and a short text, “If you’d like to come.”

Dean texts back four hours later.

Dean Winchester 5:22 Sorry surgery just ended Of course I wouldn’t miss *the* Castiel DeAngelos’s big comeback!

#suptober22 #destiel #destiel fanfic #fanfic #actor castiel #doctor dean #first meetings #celebrity au #rae writes fic

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nonotnolan · 2 years

Text

Fiverr Warlock: Saturdays are for Recovery

“Hey, Gus?“ Waking up with a killer headache was bad enough, but for some reason my roommate was shaking my shoulder. “Gus, wake up. You... uhh, you’re not gonna believe this, buuuut... we’ve swapped bodies.”

I sat upright, trying and failing to rub the sleep out of my eyes. “Dude. Preston. What the fuck? You, of all people, should understand that Saturdays are for recovery. I was up until 4am playing League, and you were out drinking or whatever. Fucking hell, why does my head hurt?”

“Probably because you’re dealing with my hangover,” he said, handing me a glass. “Drink that, it’ll help.” I gratefully downed the entire drink, and handed it back to him. To... me? I looked up at him, only to find that I was looking at my own body. “I wasn’t kidding,” he said, laughing at the look of confusion on my face.

“Why are you so calm?” I yelled, looking down at the chest that was clearly not my own. I found myself grasping at my new face, as if I was going to be able to feel a difference in its shape. I couldn’t get past my sudden lack of facial hair. “How the fuck did this happen?”

Preston just shrugged. “Hell if I know. It’s not like Web MD has a tutorial on this. My best guess is that if we just go about our business like normal, it will reverse itself just as quickly as it happened. I’m just hoping it’ll go away by tomorrow.”

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. “Tomorrow!? Are you shitting me? You want me to just keep going like nothing is wrong, and maybe it will fix itself? Fuck that! We need to do something! We need to-- I don’t know, research this, or, or... tell someone who can help us, or... I don’t know... but, but something, dammit!”

He reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder, “Look, it’s not that I’m somehow okay with this. I don’t want to be stuck in your life just as much as you don’t want to be stuck in mine. But you just woke up-- I’ve already had several hours to come to terms with this. If we try to tell anyone, they’ll just claim that we’re full of shit. I can’t find anything relevant on the internet about this, and frankly, I wouldn’t have trusted it even if I did. And it’s like you said-- Saturdays are for recovery. We don’t have to do anything important today. No one will be any the wiser if we just lay low.”

“But... yeah, alright,” I said. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I had to admit that it made sense. It wasn’t how people handled this sort of thing in the movies, but... well, this was real life. It wasn’t like we’d gotten into a shouting match in a Chinese Restaurant, or whatever. I glanced around Preston’s bedroom, trying to figure out where he kept his clothes. “So, uhhh... I’m pretty fuckin’ hungry. Do think it would be a big deal if I went out to grab food?”

Preston just shrugged his shoulders in response. “Should be fine. I mean, what are the odds that either of us manage to run into someone we know? It’s a big town. Even if we go out in public, I think it will be fine. Honesty hour, I was about to grab McDonalds, maybe go out and see a movie. Do whatever you want today.”

I couldn’t help but to roll my eyes. “Bending the facts to reach the outcome you want? My body must be wearing off on you.”

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

When Preston asked me to use my warlock powers to swap his body with that of his roommate, I was hesitant. Not that I was afraid or unwilling to use my powers, mind you-- it wasn’t all that hard. Most of the difficulty with body swap magic is making things permanent. A 24 hour swap is the sort of thing I’d charge $50, maximum. I just didn’t want to get in the habit of casting spells on my boyfriend. We’ve only been dating for a few months, and I really hate the relationship imbalance that happens when one person is constantly relying on me for spells.

That said, he’s been really good about not begging me for trivial favors, and he really wanted something different for our three month anniversary. We both enjoy a bit of roleplay in the bedroom, so why stop at costumes? Gus’s body was... certainly different. His body is a lot more nerd-punk than I expected, and seeing it makes me wonder how on earth the two of them can stand being around each other.

“What do you think?” he asked, lifting up his shirt. “Pretty good for a computer geek, right?”

He stared at me with the same sort of confident swagger that had enticed me all those weeks ago, confirming without a doubt that this is Preston in Gus’s body, and not just Gus trying to pull a prank. I could feel myself falling for him all over again. “Pretty good, indeed. And here I was wondering if I was going to need to use magic to change this body into something serviceable.”

He placed his other hand at his waistband, and slid his pants down to his knees. “Not in the slightest,” he said, letting Gus’s manhood flop free. Preston laughed at the look of shock on my face as he started to grasp it in both hands. “It’s somewhere around eleven inches when hard,” he said. “Sometimes he’ll leave the shower naked when he thinks I’m still at the gym. I’ve wanted to try it out for myself for so long... and now it’s mine for an entire day.”

He kissed me full on the lips, the stubble of his beard scraping against my skin as his tongue probed my mouth. My brain knew this was Preston, but my senses were convinced that this was some sort of sandalwood-scented stranger. “I can’t wait to show you my appreciation,” he said, whispering into my ear. The heat of his breath caused my hair to stand up on end. Eleven inches of rock-solid cock was going to completely wreck my ass, and I didn’t even care. It’s not like I had any other plans this weekend. Besides, Saturdays are for recovery.

#male body swap #gay body swap #casual body swap #selfish magic #jock to nerd #after the swap #fiverr warlock

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mister-e-muss · 5 days

Text

Alright. Time for another Backlog Report. May ‘24

As always, thoughts are below.

Etrian Mystery Dungeon

Being completely honest, I didn’t quite know what to expect with this one. While I know that Mystery Dungeon is a larger series than its iconic crossovers with Pokémon, I wasn’t sure how the formula would work when melded to a different series, especially one as anti-roguelike as Etrian Odyssey.

I enjoyed how the game played out as a shrunken-down version of EO’s team and character building. I liked the idea of locking a dungeon’s layout. IMO, that was a nice way to find a middle ground between EO’s mapping and MD’s random generation.

In a word, I liked it. Do I think it’s a good game? Sure. Do I think it’s a great game? Unfortunately not.

The narrative is painfully sparse. While Etrian Odyssey is known for its sparse narratives, I was hoping for something more along the lines of Etrian Odyssey Untold. It seems perfectly fine for most of it, but the ending feels distinctly undercooked, with the main antagonist not having even a single word of dialogue.

While I locked the combat, it doesn’t feel as deep as could be. For that matter, having the FOE’s require status ailments for any damage to be down just feels like an extra bit of restriction. I don’t like it when customizable games like this have a built-in wrong answer.

The soundtrack is also a mixed bag. This game does have my favorite rendition of The End of Raging Waves, many of the tracks are either unfitting, loop too often, or both. (EO2’s FOE theme was not meant to be an exploration track dammit!)

I enjoyed this game as a whole. But solid gold, it is not.

Final Fantasy XII; The Zodiac Age

To start with, who talks about this game?

No, really, who talks about this game? Who wakes up in the morning, offers their daily prayers to the Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca shrine kept in the closet, and walks out the door thinking “Oh boy, I cannot wait to spend another day telling people about my favorite game of all time: Final Fantasy XII.” (You can’t hear me through the post, but I’m laughing rn because that is a sentence that has never been said.)

FfXII is in a weird place in the series. It isn’t as foundational to the series as the first four, nor as widely popular as VI, VII, and X. It doesn’t quite generate the same vitriol from disappointed fans as XIII, XV, and to a lesser extent, II and VIII. (Btw, playing VIII, and it is just fine.) Even it’s immediate precursor XI is of more value as an object of curiosity in a “What would a FF MMO look like before they made XIV good?” Hell, even when discussing the more overlooked hidden gems among the series, it still has less fans than IX and V. The most people seem to think about this game, myself included before I actually played it, is “Well I know there’s a X, and XIII is supposed to be the Worst Game Evar, so logically there has to be two more in between there.” For that matter, I think the reason why XIII has so many design choices it does, is because XII is also so very much XII.

Looking at the game as a whole, I think it’s easy to see why this one slipped so hard under the radar. Final Fantasy XII is not a game that presents itself all that well. That’s not to say it looks bad or plays bad. If anything the world design is gorgeous. But it is a game that takes a while to reveal the true appeal.

Truthfully, this was one of my first purchases for the switch, alongside Fire Emblem Three Houses and Digimon Story CyberSleuth. (Incidentally, CyberSleuth is a really really good monster catcher game and you should go play it.) Over two years and 60 hours, I explored the world of Ivalice.

The gambits are a great bit of customization. They involve you in the decision-making and let you fine tune a party that functions well enough to tear through superbosses. But it takes until the third hour at least for you to get enough to really start playing around with the system, and even then, it sometimes isn’t as refined as you’d like it to be. Multiple times I wished I could add a second condition to a certain action. Sometimes when playing, I jokingly thought to myself “Man, this gambit system is groundbreaking. Now if only it could be included in a game where combat was fun in its own right.” Why hello there Unicorn Overlord :D!

Playing this game, it felt like I was in conversation with it. One where I wanted it to be something that it wasn’t.

“Do you want to play a game where the main fun of combat doesn’t come from combat itself but by refining your strategies and party-comp?”

“That sounds vague and abstract, but I’m willing to work with it.”

“How about an upgrade/skill tree style of system that restricts you from using equipment until you unlock the very specific ability to use it, and all of the would-be stat boosts are also abstract and don’t actually change your numbers?”

“That just sounds like the Sphere Grid from X, but worse in every conceivable way. Will I receive weapons that don’t benefit any of my party members’ jobs?”

“You’re guaranteed to.”

“Shit.”

“Okay, how about a political drama set in a diverse and expansive world, with a really cool magic-science aesthetic and a culture that isn’t just Europe-but-fancy?”

“That actually sounds pretty cool. You’re going to tie in this grand overarching narrative with individual character arcs that flesh out both person and world right?”

“. . . Kind of. Think less ‘Characters driving plot’ and more along the lines of ‘Plot happens to characters.’”

Briefly touching on the characters: I like most of them, but I wish there was more actually between them. Vaan makes a friendship comment to Ashe in the very late game at it feels almost completely undeserved because These People Don’t Interact. As for Vaan himself, I talked briefly with a mutual of mine about it, and I repeat here. I don’t hate Vaan. I just wish he had more going for him as a protagonist. I kept waiting for him to be an interesting or engaging character and he only had around three moments of substance in the whole game. He has a very undercooked revenge story that lasts for barely 5 hours with sidequests, and beyond that his main job in the party is to Not Know Things, and be wowed by all the pretty sights. There’s an argument to be made about how X did something similar with Tidus, but the key difference there is that Tidus is actually engaging of a character, with a character arc that lasts the whole game, and whose ignorance is used to provide the player and the party extra perspective, even coming to challenge the status quo.

The soundtrack is also not my favorite. Not that it has many bad tracks, just not many that really stick. I still hold that FFIV has one of the best soundtracks in the series. Both this game and Etrian Mystery Dungeon suffer from a common problem with the soundtrack, and it’s an unfortunate side effect of how these games are designed. Seemless integration of combat into exploration also means that there’s very little dedicated combat music, so you’d better enjoy listening to those world themes because they aren’t going anywhere.

For all that FFXII does that doesn’t jell with me completely, I should have hated this game. Either that or forgotten about it like everyone else. Honestly, if I had a wider selection of games in my early Switch library, I might have done just that. And yet for all my grievances with this game, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with it. I loved exploring the world of Ivalice. Even when I finished this game, I’m not entirely sure I was ready to say goodbye to it. However I also really really wanted to start on Harvestella, so off to the very short and underwhelming final dungeon I went.

If you enjoy Xenoblade as a series, I feel like you owe it to yourself to try out Final Fantasy XII. It might not be anyone’s favorite game of all time, but it is worth the time spent.

#backlog report #etrian odyssey #etrian mystery dungeon #final fantasy XII #final fantasy 12 #ffxii #ff12

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posttexasstressdisorder · 6 months

Text

And a touching word from Bob Lefsetz:

https://lefsetz.com/wordpress/2023/12/12/jeffrey-foskett/

Jeffrey Foskett

He was a really good guy. And I’m not just saying that because he died.

I knew who Jeffrey was before I knew him. He was the guy on stage with Brian Wilson, the one hitting the high notes, the one who turned his big red guitar around during the show so we could see where it was painted “Smile.”

But I don’t remember exactly how we met. Maybe over e-mail. I could comb the archives but I don’t want to, I’m too creeped out that he died.

He was sick. Diagnosed and originally treated in the Bay Area he went to MD Anderson in Houston and they kept him alive, year after year. He’d check in on a regular basis, apropos of nothing. Tell me he was getting treatment, asking how I was and really wanting to know.

Before that we’d connect at shows. I remember when he took me to meet Brian on the tour bus. Prepping me regarding what to expect.

And the last time I saw him was with Mike Love, a few years back at the Vilar in Beaver Creek. He introduced me to Mike Love and Bruce Johnston and we all had a very interesting hang in the dressing room.

And Jeffrey was not a typical musician, he was clean, and always was, no dope and no drink. And a believer, as in religion. But you wouldn’t know all this if he didn’t tell you. And he’d had bariatric surgery, he used to weigh over 300 pounds, he’d reference this now and again. That was the funny thing about Jeffrey, he held nothing back, either about himself or those around him. He would testify not in a gossipy way, but an honest way, as if you were buddies since second grade.

And then he had to go off the road, because of his treatment, but then he went back out, even though he could no longer sing.

Let’s see…

Jeffrey checked in on February 11th, and that was the subject of his e-mail, “Checking in”.

And then again on March 3rd.

And on March 20th he said:

“I am praying for your health. Interestingly, my pre infusion drugs are Tylenol, Benadryl and Pepcid. Benadryl must be the key to no nausea.

I hope your pemphigus is under control and that you are comfortable.

Thank You for supplying me with interesting reading in the LL.

Stay Healthy. God Bless You

Jeffrey”

And on June 20th:

“Just checking in after reading ‘The Infusion’. Is your pemphigus at least under control to where you are comfortable to sleep, walk, drive, etc.?

I am doing great. For me, there is no better place than MD A. They are keeping me thriving

I’m still praying for you my friend

Love and Blessings – Jeffrey”

And on July 24th, regarding antisemitism:

“Hi Bob,

I am a Stone Christian. Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior. Are these emails for real? I am so thoroughly disgusted that I want to crawl into a hole. From our private email exchanges, You know that I pray for you and your ongoing health situation on a daily basis. The person that wrote this garbage is a stain to all of humanity. On one hand I am grateful that you published them on the other, it literally sickens me. What happened to the world? I guess I have been so caught up in healing that I have ignored other truly important aspects of my surrounds.

I am sorry for the personal attacks on you and your Religion. It is disgraceful. My heart literally hurts

God Bless You – Jeffrey”

Where do you find friends like that? Believe me, they’re rare. And when one is that genuine, thinking of you, regularly checking in, you have an ethereal bond that goes beyond regular friendship.

When I heard of Jeffrey’s passing I thought I’d heard from him more recently, in October or so, I was surprised to find his last missive was in July. Which makes me think he had a rough time of it. And one thing they don’t tell you about cancer is it’s painful. But Jeffrey had such belief in MD Anderson that he convinced me, after years of treatment on a regular basis, that he’d be here for years to come.

But he’s not.

And many people have no idea who Jeffrey Foskett is. But those he touched, they’ll never forget him, because he was genuine, because he was a good guy. Fake was not in his bones.

What angers me most is he can’t read this, he can’t know how much he meant to me, how he touched me.

I don’t know what to do with this empty feeling. My contemporaries are dying on a regular basis. It used to be a rare event, usually through misadventure, but now… You can’t metabolize these passings. Some before their time, like Jeffrey, at 67, others like Christine McVie, who didn’t make it to 80, never mind Jeff Beck. And then Ryan O’Neal. We bonded over having CML. He was a funny guy, he lived in the present, if he brought up the past it was like you’d been there together. He was honest about his son, he had to show me his Tesla Model X, and now he’s gone at 82. That might seem old to some, but if you’re a boomer, if you’re past Medicare age, that’s scary. You count on those years, you think you’ll be active until sometime shy of 90, and then you won’t be so great, but you’ll continue to enjoy TV and a good meal and music, if you can still hear. We keep pushing finality into the distance, But one by one team members are falling by the wayside. They might be gone, but their legend lives on, even if they were not famous.

So if you’ve been to a Brian Wilson show, if you’ve seen the Beach Boys in the past decade, you experienced Jeffrey Foskett. He was the glue that held it all together. The utility man who provided what the legends no longer could. And he didn’t want notice, he was glad to be the midwife for some of the greatest music of all time.

Yes, first and foremost Jeffrey Foskett was a Beach Boys fan. The fact that he got to play with his idols?

You can’t ask for much more than that.

He was cut down before his time, but he exceeded his dream.

May he live in an endless summer ever after."

---------

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

Text

From Blood, Love and Courage - Chapter Twelve.

So, the update is a day early as I don’t know when I’ll have chance tomorrow. Thank you everyone for your feeback on the last, it wasn’t an easy thing to write, and I can imagine not for you guys to read, either, so I’m truly appreciative. We’re back on the unlock feature now as well, 25 notes on this will unlock next Tuesday’s update.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Words - 4,798

Tag list - In the comments, please message to be added/removed

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

They sat in silence for a long time, silence save her frightened wails, Angel rocking her in his arms until she began to settle, his brow furrowed, Lily curled right into him like a little wounded bird seeking refuge in the embrace of a bigger, more formidable protector, Angel's jaw set tightly as the same thought washed through his mind like a ceaseless wave. ‘They’re dead. Whoever did this to my baby, they’re dead.’

“Bish, can you call Maggie?”

He nodded, getting up and heading outside to contact his wife, Taza remaining behind the bar, pounding back bourbon as he finally let himself deal with pretty much the same thing Angel had in mind. Murder. Whoever had done this to his sweet Lilypad would die for it, but he knew he wouldn’t be the man to hand it to him. It wasn’t his job.

“Lily, I need to get you to Maggie, alright? You need help, she needs to check you over,” he spoke softly, stroking her back. She nodded, gulping.

“Okay.” She didn’t even sound like her, and it broke him even more.

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask this, but can you tell me what happened? Did you get a look at the guy who did this to you?” Immediately, she tensed all over, burrowing back against his neck, hugging the blanket around herself more, hiding her face within it. “Okay, sweet pea. You don’t have to say a word if you don’t wanna talk. Just know I’m here when you want to. I love you.”

Her trembles began again, Angel stroking her, kissing her hair, rocking her gently just as Bishop came back in. “She’s on her way, she’ll take you both over to the clinic.” It was fortunate that Maggie was the primary MD at the medical clinic she worked at, meaning she could see Lily off the books, the unspoken notion that of course, this would be handled by the MC and not the police. Whoever had done this to Lily had an unmarked grave in their future, not a jail cell for some pitifully unjust sentence they’d likely receive. Bishop then made a motion towards the bar, raising his eyebrows.

“Patron. Big fucking measure.” An understandable request from Angel, he thought. Hell, if it was him in his place, he’d be gulping it back right from the bottle. He nodded, gesturing at Lily. Angel asked her if she wanted anything, but she shook her head, Bishop heading for the bar, Taza already having the requested big measure poured. He took it back, Angel sinking it in two gulps, not feeling much better for it. He wagered he’d likely need to finish the entire bottle to sedate the kind of rage and heartbreak he had swirling around within him.

Maggie arrived just under a half hour later, Angel thanking both Bishop and Taza, the former telling him he’d explain everything to EZ when he arrived back, Angel feeling bad that in his haste to return to Lily’s side, he’d completely forgotten to alert his brother to the fact she’d turned up. Opening the back door of the Chrysler Voyager, he gently placed her down, Lily clutching onto him and making a frightened squeak of reluctance, Angel quick to reassure her. “It’s okay, I’m not leaving you. It’s alright.”

She shuffled over, lying down on the back seat, Angel fastening a belt around her middle after he got in, Maggie turning to them, her eyes glassy as she looked at Lily.

“Hi, baby. I’m going to try and make this a little better for you, at least for your comfort. Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry this happened.” She sniffed, drying her eyes, reaching to squeeze Angel’s thigh before turning back and starting the engine. Maggie had thought the first time she’d have Lily enter her clinic would be for when she was due to have her contraceptive implant changed that coming October, not for something like this, for the horrific event of being checked over after being raped. She’d had experience in it before, and it was heartbreaking, to see the physical damage inflicted upon a woman in the wake of such.

They remained silent throughout the journey, Lily hugging Angel’s thigh as he stroked her hair, holding one of her hands. If only he’d hit the road sooner, he might have seen it, seen her being dragged off somewhere, been able to put a bullet through the man who had taken her before he ever had chance to violate her. Why didn’t he leave sooner? What part of his stupid brain couldn’t work out that if she was late, it didn’t matter how much of a badass she was, if she wasn’t answering her phone, then it spelled out that she was likely in trouble?

Before he could beat himself mentally any further, they arrived at the clinic, Angel carrying her from the car, still swathed in the blanket, Maggie going ahead to open up and turn off the alarm. Her office was down at the end of the hall, the cleanly scented environment pleasant, Lily looking up at a picture on the wall and thinking how odd it was, that she even registered it to be a nice print, wondering how her brain could even make room for that observance when everything else within her mind was utter chaos.

“Do you want us to give you a minute, while you change into this?” Maggie asked, pulling a fresh gown from its packet after they’d entered. Lily immediately burrowing herself against Angel again. Her heart went out to her, the thought of him being even out of touching distance to her much too frightening to bear. Maggie got it; Angel was safety to her. He was where nothing and no one could hurt her again. “I’ll wait outside, give you some privacy.”

Lily nodded, waiting for the door to close, not moving immediately, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat comforting to her, eventually peeling herself away from his chest. She pulled off her t shirt, wincing slightly, Angel seeing all the bruises, cuts and welts all over her, that feeling of being pierced by something hitting him again as his eyes toured her injuries, helping her into the purple gown, fastening the back while she pushed her shorts down her legs.

Wincing, she gasped in pain when attempting to bend and pick them up tore a razors edge of pain through her, Angel reaching to grab them instead. When he noticed the amount of blood straining at the crotch, a feeling of pure horror flooded him, closing his eyes. “Jesus Christ.” he stammered quietly, folding them, placing them on the side with her t-shirt. He could have burst into tears for her right then, holding the lump in his throat firmly. It wasn’t his time to be upset. He couldn’t fall apart, not now.

She slipped her feet from her vans before carefully shuffling onto the examination bed, taking a breath as Maggie called if she was ready from outside. “Yeah.” she called weakly.

“Do you want me to stay?” Angel asked, Lily reaching for his hand immediately. He stood back as much as she’d let him, Maggie pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, beginning to check her over, beginning with her face.

“Okay, I’m thinking this is likely fractured from the swelling,” she began, gently touching her cheek. “Some trauma to your eyeball, the white is bloodshot. I’m just going to shine a light in your eye, is that okay?” she nodded, Maggie watching her pupil react as it should have. “Is your vision normal?”

“Blurry at times. I think I have a concussion. I’ve had two before.” Maggie nodded, making Lily follow her finger. Her eyes didn’t react to the movement as they should have, confirming her suspicion. It didn’t surprise her, feeling through her hair and checking her scalp for any trauma wounds, finding a few bumps, but no broken skin. She checked inside her mouth, finding a few cuts from likely being punched, the soft tissues hitting her teeth, one of which was a little loose. “Leave it alone and it’ll reset itself in the gum. You might find that the nerves have died, but your dentist will be able to deter that with ultrasonic pulses.” She then checked the cuts upon her neck, noting she’d need stitches in a few places, the blade looking to have at least been sharp. Knife cuts from a blunt blade were far worse.

“Can you wiggle all of your fingers?” Lily demonstrated that she could, Maggie checking her range of motion in her arms.

“I think my ribs are broken, on my right side.”

Maggie nodded. “May I lift your gown to look?” Lily okayed that, Maggie gently checking, the bruising very angry already. Yes, definitely broken. She checked her abdomen as well, noticing scuffs and bruises there too. “Muscular damage in your abdomen, severe bruising.” she noted, gently pressing, Lily hissing in pain, gripping Angel’s hand. She then checked her legs, noting her ankle was swollen but not broken, asking her to wiggle her toes, Lily not able to move particularly well on her lower half, namely because of the pain radiating from between her legs. That was the part Maggie wasn’t relishing in having to inspect.

“Okay, I’m going to have to examine you internally now, which will require that I clamp you open, like when you have a cervical screening. I’ll numb the area first, though. Are you okay for me to do that?” Lily blinked tears down her face, but nodded, lying back, her nails digging into the flesh of Angel’s hand as her chest began to rise and fall with nerves, Maggie popping her feet up in place before turning on the overhead light, taking what she needed to begin numbing her up.

“Try to relax, deep breaths.” Angel took a seat on a small stool he pulled out behind the counter, pressing his cheek to hers and stroking the other side of her face, soothing her when she began to whimper out of panic. As soon as she felt the clamp press, she screamed, shutting her legs immediately, gripping onto him. His heart broke for her all over again. Her scared wailing filled the room, Maggie remaining in retreat, stroking her shin lovingly, Angel holding her tight, looking up at Maggie and shaking his head.

“I have to,” she lamented, gesturing. “This amount of blood, she likely has serious internal tears that need to be treated. Lily, honey, if you say it’s okay, I’m going to give you a mild sedative, so you won’t feel anything. You’ll be all dreamy, you won’t be scared, and I can patch you up and have you all done by the time you come round again. Can I do that for you? You’ve been so, so brave, but I think you might need some help now, something to help you relax. I don’t want you to go through anything else painful or traumatic tonight if I can help make that better for you.”

She composed herself, her breathing shaky, wracked by sobs, nodding eventually. Maggie got up, removing her gloves before heading out, needing to visit the supply room to locate the sedative she intended to use. Coming back in, she also sorted what she needed to stitch and dress her neck wounds, locating a syringe and pulling back the small amount required, wiping her inner arm with an alcohol swab before injecting her. She waited, the shot taking about a minute to kick in, Lily’s eyes fluttering shut as her body relaxed, Angel still holding her hand and stroking her hair, letting out a long sigh.

He let her work, looking down at Lily’s face, glad she had a little relief from it all, if only for a short time. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, the one that hadn’t been fractured, kissing her forehead lovingly. All he wanted was to get her home and hold her. No. All he wanted was for this not to have happened to his precious sweet pea. Once Maggie was done, she went to the cupboard and pulled out a pair of scrub pants from a packet, slipping them on before arranging Lily’s legs comfortably once more, pulling the gown back down and removing her gloves as she stood.

“Honestly, how bad?” Angel asked, with obvious trepidation.

She took a breath, her eyes full of sadness. “Honestly?” He nodded. “I’ve treated rape victims in the past. Lily is one of the worst I’ve seen.” He put his head down on the bed next to her, muttering something, his hands tightening their grasp on hers. When he emerged, his eyes were glassy, Maggie continuing her explanation softly.

“She has tears and bruising, of which should heal within four to six weeks. She has dissolvable stitches, so there’ll be no need to have them removed. It’ll likely burn when she tries to take a pee, though, so numbing cream should help with that. She won’t be able to be submerged in water for about a fortnight, but after that an Epsom salts bath can be helpful for healing. Until then, just showers only. I would say obviously no use of tampons either, but I know from her implant that she doesn’t get periods, so that’s moot. I’m going to stitch her neck while she’s still out, if you could just move over a scooch.”

He did, pulling his phone out, seeing he had a message from his brother, asking how they both were. ‘Bad. I’ll call you in the morning’ was his quick reply. By the time her wounds were cleaned and stitched, Maggie cleaning down all her scrapes as well, Lily was beginning to come round, looking down to see herself more covered thanks to the pair of scrub pants she’d had put on her, Maggie asking what she wanted to do with her clothes.

“I don’t want them. Hold on.” she reached beneath the gown, removing her strapless bra and handing that over, too, not wanting to take a single piece of clothing away with her that she’d been wearing when it happened. Maggie said she’d incinerate them, picking up two bottles of pills and pack of dressings.

“Painkillers, and sleeping tablets, just in case you have issues falling asleep. You’ll likely want to take a shower once you arrive home, so pop the dressings on once you’re done. Obviously, just use warm water between your legs and some unscented soap. Actually, I have some of that here.” she rifled through her cupboard, finding a bottle of mild liquid soap and putting it into her bag for her, Lily placing in the other items she held. “I explained to Angel that you needed some internal stitches as well as external, but they’re all dissolvable. You should be healed within six weeks, no taking baths for two. After that, Epsom salts baths will help ease any lasting soreness. Now, where am I taking you home to, your place or Angel’s?”

“Angel’s. It’s closer. I’ll text Johan, he has my spare key, ask him to go down and feed Charlie.” she spoke, firstly to Maggie, and then to her boyfriend. Thank god she had an abundance of her stuff at his, meaning she wouldn’t have to mess around going to collect things that she needed from her place first. All she wanted as to shower and get in bed. She was exhausted, in pain, and more mentally muddled than she’d ever felt before in her entire life. Nothing felt right. The only thing settling to her frayed, traumatised state was the strong presence of Angel, carrying her back out to the car, Lily sitting next to him, her head against his chest in his arms, staring blankly as they were transported back to his.

She felt like she was on autopilot, not really herself at the helm, still a little woozy from the sedative, but still, beyond that, like she wasn’t really there. It kept hitting her in waves, what had happened, her mind not truly able to process it, yet at the same time, it was all she could think. ‘I was raped. I’m a rape victim. And they’re still out there.’ That was another reason she wanted to be at Angel’s place, just in case they knew where she lived. She knew it was unreasonable, that they likely didn’t, and wouldn’t be able to get near her wherever she was with the threat of the man who would shoot them in the head without hesitation by her side, but still. It was her reasoning, and no one would question it for a second.

She was vaguely aware of Maggie saying something sweet to her, telling her she was only at the end of phone if she needed her before Angel lifted her from the car, carrying her to the house. “What can I do?” he asked, as soon as they were inside, locking and bolting the door behind them. She seemed to relax a little at that.

“I need to take a shower, but I... I don’t want to be alone.” He could understand that. He knew she likely wouldn’t let him leave her side in the hours that would follow this, nor would he want to. Whatever she needed, he would fulfil. She limped through the house with him to the bathroom, Angel turning the shower on and undressing, Lily removing the gown and scrub pants, sighing as she looked down at herself, taking the soap from her bag and a fresh wash cloth from the linen shelf before walking in, the warm water hitting her, making her feel refreshed immediately, carefully washing herself down.

The water turned pink from the tinges of dried blood she sloughed from her skin, yet even when she was clean all over, purified, she still felt dirty, sullied by it, by them. A broken little sob exited her mouth as she turned, resting her cheek to Angel’s thick chest, his arms wrapping around her as she began to cry, everything within her shattered to pieces, lost in the storm of what they’d put her through as the water rained down on them.

It was a vast, black void within her, a place where empty winds scraped like blades over weakened flesh, a place where no sunshine dared to brighten the desolateness, a landscape dark and baren, devoid of anything joyful. And it was inside of her, growing, feeding off her misery, her shame, her sadness.

She couldn’t even imagine how she’d feel, going through this without him, her beloved Angel. He leaned back against the tiles, stroking her, kissing her head, wishing with every fibre within him that he could take it all away for her, like glass from a wound, pick it out and throw it away, stitch her wounds and kiss them better.

He couldn’t. And it killed him.

“I love you so much.” Taking her face in his hands, he pressed his forehead to hers, kissing her softly, his lips finding each tear as they fell thereafter, resting his chin atop her head when she leaned against him once more. He had no idea how long they stayed there for, washing her hair for her, quickly rinsing his as well before they got out, Angel wrapping her up in all the soft towels she’d brought and he’d complained about being too fluffy, quickly drying off and pulling on a pair of clean boxers once back in the bedroom, Lily hunting out some of her comfortable, soft cotton undies and pulling them on carefully with his help before sliding beneath the bed covers, curling up against him.

She winced, trying to get comfortable, pulling out a pillow from beneath her head and placing it between her thighs. “It hurts to lie with my legs shut.” Continuing to shuffle, she still couldn’t find comfort, muttering that it wasn’t the right height, stuffing the pillow back atop the other. She was just about to turn onto her back when Angel gently grasped beneath her knee, draping her leg across his hips.

“That better?”

It was. It didn’t put pressure on her stitches. Internal fucking stitches. She’d expected to perhaps first experience those after giving birth, not because three men took it upon themselves to brutalise her. “Yes, that’s way better.”

“Is there anything you want, or need for me to be doing that I’m not?” His consideration of her made what was truly intolerable pain, both mentally and physically, more manageable. She shuddered to think how she’d feel if there was no Angel by her side. Just him being there and asking what he could do was a support she was thankful for.

She shook her head, curling against him further, breathing in the scent of his soap fresh skin. She knew that eventually, she had to detail to him what had happened to her, so he could go about putting those grievous wrongs right. She knew this wouldn’t be a matter for the police; if an outlaw’s girlfriend was raped, the perpetrators ceased to exist. She knew Angel was that kind of man, and she wasn’t about to stop him from being that man either.

After the terror they’d put her through, she was fine with the idea of all three of them eventually ceasing to breathe at his hands. If they were dead, they could never do it to another woman.

The thought of actually verbalising it all, though, even to him? It frightened her, made her heart race, because she knew detailing in explanation would make what had happened to her even more real. For that moment, she needed to build a wall between it, to just find a little stillness, to bask in the affection and safe embrace of a man who wasn’t ever going to hurt her like that, of her man, who loved her.

“Do I still have any of those no sugar lemonade cans in the fridge?” she asked a while later. “And do you have weed? I could do with mental cloudiness. Being sedated earlier was nice.”

He kissed her head, gently shifting from beneath her, Lily carefully rolling onto her back. “I’ll be right back.” She shuffled around, wincing, trying to think back to any MMA related injuries that had hurt as much. Of course, there hadn’t been any. This was completely standalone.

Pushing up, she leaned back against the pillows, taking the very large lit blunt Angel handed to her, the soda can too before he climbed back into bed. She took a couple of her painkillers, leaving the bottles on the nightstand, abstaining from the sleeping pills. If she could sleep under the sedation of weed, she’d prefer that.

She sipped at her soda, passing the blunt back and forth with him, feeling a little more settled. Everything was still hell within, but it had been somewhat smoothed. When her painkillers kicked in, as well as the realisation that they were of the very strong variety, she finally felt her eyelids grow heavy. It was what she needed, to just not be awake, Angel stubbing out the half smoked blunt and pulling her close again so she could rest comfortably after turning off the light.

Sadly, it was only two hours before nightmares over her ordeal forced her waking with a scream, thrashing around out of terror.

“Baby, it’s alright, you’re alright, shhhh,” he comforted her with, turning the bedside lamp back on, her screams ceasing, breathing ragged as she allowed him to pull her against his chest, gripping one of his arms, crying hard.

“I hate this, I hate it! I... I was so scared, Angel! I couldn’t protect myself, it just... and... I...” she gasped, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

“I know, fuck, baby. I can’t even imagine how frightened you were, but you’re safe now. No one is gonna get a chance to do this to you again, I swear it. When I find him, he’s gone. Painfully, too. Dude’s gonna get torn to shreds for what he did to you.” The rage, oh god, the rage that pulsed through every fibre of his being towards whoever it was whom had done this to her. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

Lily turned to him, stroking his face, seeing the pain and anger in his eyes. It’d be so much worse, when he knew what had happened, but she knew she had to tell him. Reaching behind him, she picked up the ashtray, taking the blunt and lighting it, needing to feel calmed again. She was silent, contemplating it all as she smoked, curling her legs up to her chest despite the pain, reaching for his hand. “It wasn’t one,” she sobbed, sniffing. “It was three.”

He felt like he had a jagged boulder tumbling through his insides, hearing her correction. “Three?” he exclaimed in whisper, his grip on her hand tightening. No wonder she was in such bad shape internally. Three of them? He could barely comprehend it.

She nodded, finger combing her damp hair. “They must’ve been tailing behind me for a while, way back down the street so I wouldn’t notice the car. I think it was dark red, or purple. Might have been a Chevrolet of some type. Anyway, they got out, took my phone and dragged me into an alleyway, I think by the side of the food warehouse. They gagged me, beat me, and then each took their turn. The first one, I thought I recognised his voice, but I’m not sure. They all wore balaclavas, but I could tell that two were white and one was black, and he had the gold things on his top teeth, the...” she began, gesturing to her own mouth.

“Grills,” Angel filled in for her.

“Yeah, and it had something engraved on them, but I can’t remember what. He told me that I was really enjoying it, though, called me a slut, called me dirty. Him and the first guy, they were into it, but the third, not so much. He pulled the gag out of my mouth when it began to choke me, said I’d die if he didn’t. When it was him, you know... he didn’t seem like he wanted to. He never hit me either, just held me down. Then, after it was over, they beat me some more and left me there.

“I’ve never been so fucking frightened. I begged them to stop, but I just got punched some more, told to shut up. I wanted to die, it hurt so much, it was... it was so horrible. I can’t even begin to process it; I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to carry on. I don’t feel like me any longer.”

She began gasping again, crying hard as he held her. He had no idea what to say in the wake of that, but he had to try to tell her something, stroking her hair lovingly, closing his eyes for a few moments as he swallowed back the lump in his throat after hearing it, the harrowing account of what had befallen his beloved. “You’re probably not gonna feel like you for a while, but you will, when some time has passed. Just take it one day at a time, and know I’m always, always gonna be right here for you. I don’t know how I can make it better, but I want to try where I can, listening when you need to talk, doing whatever you need me to as well.”

She turned to him, stroking his face. “Thank you. You’ve taken such good care of me, and I love you for it. I couldn’t get through this if I was alone.”

He learned close to her, kissing her shoulder. “You’ll never be alone in this, I’m here. I love you so much.” After finishing the joint, she settled down again, Angel hoping that when she eventually fell asleep, it would be dreamless, that she could rest. While she lay there sleeping, he went to the bathroom, pulling the lid down on the toilet and sitting there, finally allowing the tears he’d fought against to fall, crying for her, for everything she’d gone through, beyond heartbroken. Why her? Why his baby? Just what the fuck possessed not one, but three men to do that to her?

He covered his face with his hands as it washed over him in waves, the pain of seeing her so broken, the rage of what had happened, and the resolve of his pledge in light of it all.

When he found them, they would not breathe.

They would die in agony for what they had done to her.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x ofc #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #angel reyes smut #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic #clayton cardenas #clayton cardenas fanfiction #clayton cardenas smut #clayton cardenas x ofc

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crushedbyhyperbole · 1 year

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Rockets of Love - Chapter Four

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader

Chapter Summary: The speed-dating continues and in your emails with Bucky things escalate. You get to see a picture of him for the first time and he is HOT! You meet someone you instantly regret and wish you'd kept your mouth shut.

Words: 2.3k

Note: The flirting with Bucky continues shamelessly - I'm not sorry in the slightest. I hope you enjoy ❤

There will be the occasional image and gif in the story from this point on. I've had a lot of them saved on my pc (for personal use *coughs*) for so long I've got no hope of remembering where they came from but where I have source information I will credit it.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexism, fat shaming, derogatory language & behaviours, language/profanity, shameless flirting

***18+ Content - this whole fic is written for adults regardless of sexual content - minors do not interact***

Rockets of Love Masterlist

The next five dates weren’t any better in terms of a connection. They were all too much like fuckboys, looking for a model to stick their dicks into. One even seemed to mock you with his smug smirking as you talked, like the idea of bedding you as a pity fuck was a highly comedic idea.

“I mean, you could come home with me tonight and we’ll take it from there.” His Lasse fair attitude was irritating. “I’d make an exception for a good cause.”

Shit like that really made you feel stupid for even trying things like dating and socialising. You hated this aspect of interacting with people but you plastered on some fake confidence and told him how it is.

“Listen, Joel,” you read his name badge with distain. “You’re not my type. I’m looking for someone I can hold an intellectual discussion with, not a one-night-stand. I was hoping to let you down gently but since you came right out and said you want to smash, you pretty much forced my hand. Sorry, mate. That’s a no from me.”

“Fuck you! Frigid bitch.” He got up before the time limit was up and left the table.

You laughed on the outside but on the inside you were pissed off. You could never win with guys like that. If you fucked them you were a slut. If not, you were frigid, bitch, cunt, or worse. They’d call you fat, pig, ugly, and a plethora of other names and insults designed to bring you down. Sure, you weren’t thin or super attractive but you weren’t the biggest and you weren’t all that ugly either. People thought that people like you had no right to have standards, well fuck them in the ass, they were idiots.

You pulled out your phone to another email from Bucky.

Hey,

Look, I’m sorry if I went too far. It’s just so easy to get carried away when I’ve had a few drinks.

I really enjoy talking to you and playing with you and I never want that to stop, so you just tell me when I’ve been an asshole and I’ll let that be the line in the sand. Okay?

Bucky X

Slightly confused you looked back to see if there was anything in your last email to make him think he’d upset you. You realised that you hadn’t replied to him when you’d replied to Nat. Quickly you tapped out an answer.

Bucky…

You’ve never managed to offend me yet so you’re good. I didn’t have time to reply in my haste to neck as much wine as possible between dates. How else am I going to get through this catastrophe?

I’ll certainly tell you when you’re an asshole, and IF you go too far. I quite like this loose-lipped side of you, but please stop apologising… You sound like me FFS.

Just wait until I tell you about this latest asshat. Basically he invited me for a one-night-stand pity fuck. I turned him down on the grounds of his waning intellect haha!

This is the last time I let anyone drag me to one of these things even if I’m only here in a supporting role.

See you in a few,

MD X

One more date before the next bathroom/smoke break and the guy was actually alright. Bit mousy in the looks department but he was smart and funny and nerd just like you. You talked shop, him being a programmer for a smartphone company and you being a high-level tech support agent. He seemed impressed with your skills and even went so far as to ask you for another date there and then. You would have liked to, but his breath was pretty smelly and you just couldn’t cope with it.

“Sure.” You smiled at him when he asked for your number. “You’ll get my details from the dating coordinator when we both tick yes on our sheets.” You smiled and ticked yes where he could see and he did the same. You felt terrible crossing it out after he left and ticking “no” instead, but you weren’t going to have a conversation about oral hygiene with a grown man, and certainly weren’t going to be kissing him.

During your next break you checked your phone to find one email from Bucky.

Babe,

If I were there I’m sure I’d be begging you to take me home too. A one-night-stand seems a little short sighted but I’d take what I could get. Pity fuck? Was he that pathetic to ask you to fuck him out of pity? Jesus. I suppose his balls were big enough to ask lol

I love that you’ll call me out on my bullshit lol. You’re fucking awesome. Though… You do realise now you’ve told me that you’ll let me know IF I overstep the mark that you’re going to get so fed up of my loose-lipped bullshit you’re going to have to block me like some crazy stalker. Maybe get a restraining order.

Does “see you in a few” mean you’ll come play with me later? Or does it mean I’ll actually get to see you? Shit, you know we’ve never even seen each other. Hold up. I’ll send you a picture in a bit.

Bucky X

Oh shit!

Now that Bucky was talking about pictures, you started to get nervous. And he was calling you ‘babe’ now, which felt weird and nice at the same time.

You replied.

Buckinator…

The pity was for me… but I’d rather let my gash heal over than fuck a piece of shit fuckboy like him. My cobwebs will remain in place until someone I actually like can convince me otherwise.

It means I’ll play later. You don’t need to send a picture. I’m sure as hell not sending one lol.

MD X

Just as you sent your reply, another email from him came through… with an attachment.

So this is me…

Bucky X

Holy shit Bucky was hot! You were caught between a grin and a look of awe, whatever the hell kind of expression that was going to make on your face.

You could hear everyone being called back to their tables so you quickly, and very honestly, made your reply.

Fuck me! You’re a hottie. What the hell dude? Your GF is one lucky lady.

MD X *drooling*

He’d never spoken of a girlfriend before but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. There was only one way to find out; by prompting him on it. You pressed send as another email came in from Bucky. At this rate you were going to have a date waiting at your table when you returned.

Babe,

seriously? Why the hell do you need a pity fuck? You’re fucking amazing. I also just spat good whiskey all over myself. Thanks for the intense imagery… again.

If your ‘gash’ is ever in danger of healing over I offer my services. And I apologise that the guys you’re meeting with tonight are a bunch of pricks. We can’t all be charming and chivalrous 😉

It would be lovely to see you, to put a face to the voice, but it’s not necessary. I know you’re a private person and I’d never pressure you.

Looking forward to later.

Bucky XXX

You rushed to your table and read at the same time. He was really laying the charm on. Could it be the whiskey he’d been drinking? You couldn’t recall him ever being drunk when you’d gamed, but then neither had you been. Maybe the wine had loosened you up and he was responding to your cues?

God only knows. You thought. But you couldn’t lie, you were enjoying this new twist to your interactions with him. It was exciting, giving you a pleasant tingle low in your abdomen that you hadn’t felt for a long time.

Back at your table and Becca threw you a questioning look, glancing down at your phone and back to your face. Her raised eyebrows said ‘what the hell are you doing?’

You shrugged and played innocent.

Date sixteen was another one of those guys who were just after a one-night-stand. This one wasn’t even a little bit reserved about it.

“I’m here to get laid.” Tim said. “Honestly, you’re pretty enough. I’d fuck you.”

“Well thanks for that, Cyrano de Bergerac.” You sighed, exasperated. “I’ll pass.”

“What do you want me to say?” He folded his arms across his chest. “At least I was up front about it.”

“True that.” You took a massive gulp of wine. Your buzz was wearing off way too quickly. “Maybe a little less of the ‘you’re my bare minimum criteria for sex, come to my cave’ type of shit, would work better.” You put on a voice for your parody, not bothering to look at him, you fiddled with your glass.

“Honesty is the best policy.” He snorted.

“Honesty isn’t always kind, though is it?” You were about done here. Exhausted with putting on airs for these people, trying to be polite, and nice.

“Are you always so cynical?”

“This is me on a low cynicism day.” You finished your wine and attracted a waiter for more. You might as well just ask them to leave the bottle at this point.

“See, I like that you’re a little darker than you first seemed.” Tim smiled at you, flashing you a set of over-white teeth. “A woman with a black sense of humour is more attractive than some pretty thing that looks good on your arm. That’s the kind of woman I’d want to spend my time with.” He looked at you coyly, as if you weren’t going to see through that fake bullshit after what he’d said already.

“How’s that working out for you, Tim?” You swigged your wine again, less and less interested in what he had to say.

“Not too well until about twenty seconds ago.” He levelled a look at you that said ‘bedroom eyes’, and you actually snorted, almost spitting wine in his face.

“Really?” You rolled your eyes. “I bet your pick-up lines are priceless.”

When Tim moved on to Den’s table you really hoped he didn’t ply her with bullshit. If he was honest with her she’d probably fuck him and not care about it being just a one time thing, but if he plied her with compliments and made her feel good then she’d be in it for relationship goals and would be mortified when he didn’t call back after the first hook-up.

You checked your phone for emails from Bucky (let’s not beat about the bush, his was the only name that you wanted to see in your notifications) while you waited for Becca to be done with your next date.

Stop! You’re making me blush. There’s no girlfriend, no wife, no significant other. Wait! Was ‘fuck me!’ an offer or a demand?

Mr Hottie X

You laughed out loud as Becca was forced to stop talking to your next date. She was smiling and simpering, and everything.

This guy must be nice. You thought.

WRONG!

With the seventeenth date, you discovered that not all men were happy about girl gamers, contrary to popular belief. Your experience had been that men online thought of girl gamers much like unicorns – a rare mythological creature scarcely seen and, rarer still, experienced first-hand.

“Games are sports, and female gamers are like female sportspersons.” A fitness freak called Tony said. “They’re substandard and devalue the game.”

“Seriously?” You didn’t know what to say to him. Sexist wanker.

“Yeah.” He was firm. “There’s no female sportsperson better than any male sportsman.”

“So you’re saying that no woman in the world can beat any man in the world at any game? Even online games?” You scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. I play well enough to kick plenty of guys in the ass.”

“What game do you play?” He scowled.

“Orion Protocol.” You said without thinking.

“Hmm?” Tony huffed. “I play that. What’s your gamer tag?”

“MoonDragon.” You said reactively as your temper flared.

There was no way this shithead was going to tell you that he was better than you at that damn game. You knew you were good. You were in one of the best clans in the whole damn game and were good enough for Bucky to call you one of their ‘big guns’.

“Fuck off!” He laughed. “You’re [AVG]MoonDragon? Not a chance in hell!”

Shitshitshitshitshit! Damn wine. Damn pride.

Adrenaline surged, sending your heart into overdrive and your chest tingling with the first stages of panic. Your regret was instant.

Your face was beet red, even under the make-up, you could feel the burn prickling your skin but you remained silent.

Breathe. Breathe. Your frown matched his.

“MoodDragon is definitely a guy. I’ve played with him. The style is unmistakeable, no girl can do what he does.”

“What’s your tag then?” Pride and frustration mixed together to form a writhing mess of emotion in your chest and gut.

“I’m [HDR]Taskmaster.” He was all smug and cocky. “Though I play on an alternate account too.”

“[HDR]? Never heard of them.” Alternate account? That was why you didn’t know the name.

“Haven’t heard of HYDRA?” Tony laughed at you mockingly. “We’re one of the oldest clans in Orion Protocol. We’ve been around since the beginning. Arch nemesis of The Avengers, in fact.” His eyes were twinkling with glee. “You should know if you’re in the Avengers.”

“What’s your alt, then?” You pushed.

The buzzer went off for the five minute date timer and Tony stood.

“I’ll see you around, loser.” He moved to the next table and refused to look your way again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes fic #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes flirting #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #gamer!reader #cloudy's writing

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daja-the-hypnokitten · 1 year

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Jukebox reviews part 30! For context, see my post “A Project” under this same tag. If you want to see a full list of his EMCSA stories, they can be found here, sorted alphabetically.And if you want to see some of his drabbles, check out his blog at @jukeboxemcsa

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