#i will be gone because writing is a struggle

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 12 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: life has been hectic with family drama, getting my exam results soon and making a decision for my future based on those possible outcomes. even so, I loveee writing, that’s why this took me longer than normal. enjoy reading, and goodnight or good morning wherever you are! 🫶

W/C: 3.366

part eleven

Throughout the heart-stuttering night, Jude struggled to get the full rest he needed for training the next afternoon.

He was thankful training was scheduled later than usual because he’d struggled to get even a wink of sleep.

After the sudden way the girl had launched herself into his arms, crying herself back to sleep as he whispered sweet, reassuring words to her- Jude’s thoughts were a complete mess.

Noticing her sleeping state, he'd shifted in her bed, leaning back into her pink satin pillows. Her head lying on his bare chest.

He had adjusted her head and arms carefully, making sure she wouldn’t touch his injured shoulder through the night.

And then?

He was stuck, only realizing how restricting the position was when she calmed down, especially considering how rigid his body had gone at the contact.

His mouth went dry and glass of water he had abruptly woken up for earlier was not even within the bounds of his thoughts.

Jude would not stop glancing down at her.

How could he not?

The way her bedside lamp had been hitting her face, the warm lighting giving him a clear look and emphasizing the softness of her state.

Fast asleep, trusting him in her most vulnerable state, drunk and asleep.

It all made his heart thump in his ears, her calm breaths leaving through her nose and hitting his skin.

Jude had witnessed her drunken state before, weeks ago, back in London. A night that had taken a wrong turn unexpectedly.

He couldn't lie, the entire situation had him worked up from beginning to end.

Images of beating the creep’s face bloody, even more than y/n's bag had done, flashed through his head.

Even when he when was lying in bed that night, sleepless- like this night.

Shit.

My head is pounding, pounding like I've banged my head against the wall a multitude of times.

A splitting headache was the last thing I would want on a workday.

Why did I drink the night before a workday again?

I rub my eyes, squeezing them shut, to try to combat the pain in my head.

My satin pillow was oddly hard at the moment, making me groan in annoyance.

Did my pillow transform into a rock overnight?

"Will you pretend to be asleep for another ten minutes, or are you going to wake up?"

My soul almost escapes my body at the noise. I jump up, something resembling a scream leaving my lips.

My eyes widen as I scramble, not believing both my eyes and ears as I look at a shirtless, tired Jude, in my bed.

Jude..

In my bed.

"What are you doing?!" I scream, looking down at my body, screaming even louder internally.

I snatch my blanket from the other side of the mattress, covering up my body- even when realizing I'm still fully dressed, exactly like I was last night before..

What the fuck even happened yesterday?

I watch Jude cover his ears, facial expression unreadable as I distance myself from him.

"Can you please stop shouting?" The brum accent spits. I watch the wrinkles on his forehead etch deeper, a loud huff leaving his mouth.

"What are you- Why are you in my bed?"

The sight is..

"And where is your shirt?!" I ask, voice higher pitched than I ever imagined would leave my lips.

I step back from my bed, the blanket around me like a do-it-yourself cape, seeing him surrounded by my pink, cotton, and satin bedsheets and pillows.

I run a hand down my face, my head starting pound more. I expect to see a nasty sheen of cakey makeup on my fingers- except there is nothing..

"Jude.. Say something.." I plead, urging him to spit out an explanation for- whatever this is.

"It's.." He breathes out, sitting up. I watch him wince, a hand traveling up from his bicep to his shoulder, his mouth forming a line.

I bite on my tongue, watching him like a hawk. I probably look like an absolute mess. My dress is wrinkled, hair a mess and my breath has to smell foul.

Since when did I care about how I looked in front of this douche?

"It's nothing important." He finally says, making anger course through my veins.

"What do you mean? You're half naked in my bed!”

He gets off the mattress, feet hitting the gray parquet flooring. Jude doesn't reply, instead, he walks past the bed, towards the door.

"Hey! Aren't you going to answer-"

"Get cleaned up.." He says rudely, walking out of my room. Only for me to hear the loud slamming of his door.

There's no way something didn't happen last night..

"The taxi is here.." I mumble, placing my sunglasses on my face. Dark-tinted glasses helping me with my headache and giving me a small mask to hide behind.

I looked like a rat who'd recently escaped from a sewer.

I hadn't spoken to Jude all morning after our weird screaming match.

Could he blame me?

He was in my bed, atrocious considering the weird tension between us, especially since he'd been living in my house.

What it meant? I couldn’t figure it out. Nor could I figure out if this positive or negative..

I hear him make a noise in acknowledgment, making him stand up from the couch. Blue toiletry bag- probably way too expensive for what it's worth, in his arms as he makes his way to the front door.

We annoyingly had to take the taxi to the training grounds this morning, mostly due to my hangover.

But also, because I'm not sure I could drive Jude to the training center without threatening to leave him at the side of the road if he didn't fess up about what happened last night.

I shouldn't be trusted to drive in this state.

I step into the taxi, greeting the driver before shutting up and resting my eyes for the rest of the ride. Though, my interest gets peaked when he begins chatting with Jude about the football club.

"Champions League very good- big chance for Madrid." The driver speaks in limited English.

Again, there is a jumble of mutated Spanglish being spoken.

I tune out Jude's reply. It's probably something egoistic and stupid, like usual.

Of course, my biggest wish every season is for Real Madrid to do well.

But my judgement was clouded when it came to Jude speaking of winning.

My eyes shift back to the driver when we arrive at the training grounds, making me step out immediately as the two of them take photos together.

The fare?

Jude could pay, and I'd be happy to make him pay for the rest of the rides we took together.

I should make him pay for gas, right- I have to..

I adjust the sunglasses on my face, looking around swiftly before practicing running into the training center.

I greet everyone haphazardly, my black trench coat making me look like a vilanized inspector gadget.

This will be a long, long day..

"So, any reason you were stepping out of a taxi with a certain someone?" I hear Lina say, making me raise my brow. The painkiller I had taken earlier helping me a little more than I expected.

I had the nosiest colleagues ever. I thought I made sure no one else saw us.

"Oh, I noticed him in the taxi, so I just caught a ride." I explain, a shitty lie definitely too easy to catch.

"Sure, not like you’d rather be caught dead than share a car with him.." She trails off, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement as she twirls a lock of her hair with her finger.

"Yeah, didn't expect he would stop at the light next to the train station.."

Fuck, was there a connection between a hangover and not being able to lie?

Even a child could spot my bullshit from kilometers away.

"So, on the most random day you take the train, you spot him in a taxi?"

"Yeah." I mutter, looking away from her, chugging my leftover coffee.”

"And why did you take the train again?"

"I'm hungover from last night. Was out late with Luis." I explain shortly, pointing my fork towards the bored cameraman.

I watch him fidgeting with his camera lens, across the room, not looking very happy.

"He doesn't look good at all." She observes, opening up a pack of gummies.

"He was hitting it off with this girl, but I spilled my drink on him." I wince at the last memory of last night, still trying to rack my mind for the other memories.

"She asked if I was his girlfriend." I add, wanting to hit my head against my desk, but it was pounding enough from earlier anyway.

This was probably my punishment for not letting him have a good time..

"That's shitty.." Lina disapproves, clicking her tongue at me.

"I was drunk, okay? I'm the first person rooting for him and his love life, you know that."

"You need to root for your own love life. You’ve literally been single since I've known you."

Here we go again.

"I don't need a man. I need money, so stop talking and please continue helping me with this draft.”

"You look tired, man. Did you rest properly?"

Jude looks up from his seat in the cafeteria, teammates surrounding him as they all chat about what they did on their days off. 

"No, I'm good- just thinking of what to eat." He replies, looking at Brahim. Sending him an appreciative smile at how observant his teammate is.

Throughout his months in Madrid, he had been having an absolute blast bonding and becoming familiar with his new teammates.

Even with the barriers of language, he had found it interesting how everyone could understand each other so well- even with the jumble of languages thrown around during training and in the locker rooms.

He had his Spanish lessons, of course, and they were helping immensely. But Jude had to admit to himself, though his ego- not speaking the language fluently did make him feel left out of certain things on occasion.

Small jokes, little silly comments. Things he could only understand after someone was nice enough to translate them quickly.

He didn’t think anyone would notice, not like they’d care, but from a short distance, y/n did notice.

When she would step onto the pitch during training, interviews, even the small chats in the gym.

He was unaware of it, even now as, she sat on the other side of the room, having lunch with her own group of colleagues.

Jude hadn’t picked up on the pitying look on her face, or the way she would glance away when he’d look in her direction.

Slowly and unknowingly, the translating became a habit. Some things she would even say in English unconsciously when talking to the team.

It wasn't anyone's fault, obviously. Only a matter of time and practice could make sure he'd fit even better with his new team. Undoubtedly, his new home for the next couple years.

"What's with her, though? I thought she was capable enough to murder me with her stare alone.."

"I've never seen y/n look like that."

Jude perks up at the name, though not understanding every single word. His eyes scan the table to see who's decided to speak about the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about since last night.

His eyes land on the guys he's closest to, the very much loved French duo in the team.

Leaning in, and taking a sip of his water, he speaks to them.

"What is with her?" He asks, trying to sound as clueless and uninterested as possible, but the two men glance at each other. A knowing, teasing look in both their eyes.

"y/n, she looks bad today.." Aurélien speaks, informing him.

Jude frowns at the words, probably a translation mistake, he thinks.

"Know about it?" Eduardo jumps in, sending a questioning look to the number five.

"No, just curious about what you guys are talking about.”

He mutters, keeping his volume down, not to attract the attention of the other players.

He didn't want anyone to speak about this, about what she looked like, what she did, not about her.

He pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek, mind pondering. A stinging and burning sensation of jealousy and protectiveness twisting his thoughts.

It’s just the sleeplessness, he thinks, it’s making him go insanely delusional. He huffs, shaking his head in dismissal.

"My dad is coming back home in two days.."

"Okay.."

"He will handle your case as a first priority. Tell your mom."

"Okay."

y/n twists her neck in annoyance, scrolling through her phone. Ever since those rumors, from back in London- she had a crazy feeling of being actively witch hunted online.

Even so, she had decided yesterday not to give a fuck anymore. Scrolling through her Instagram explore page and blocking every single football drama account she saw.

Out of sight, out of mind.

"Will you respond like a normal human being? Ai has better responses than you."

"What do you want me to say? Jump up and celebrate?"

She sighs, kicking her feet up and making herself comfortable on the couch.

Should she bite the bullet and ask again?

"Jude.."

An annoyed grumble is heard in response.

"Did we, you know, do something. Is that why you're being so, awkward?"

She practically dies inside at her own words, obviously sexual in undertone. Wanting to smack herself right in the face.

Really? That's what she asked?

She resisted the urge to walk into the bathroom and grab the superglue to glue her mouth shut.

She should just never speak again. Problem solved.

y/n raises her head reluctantly to watch his reaction, surprise clad all his face. 

"Are you crazy? I wouldn't touch you- especially, when you're drunk, and wailing out for your mother.."

Jude stops, mentally cursing himself for blurting out those stupid words.

Had he gone too far? Confessing to too much information he didn't have to share?

Was it something he should have kept between himself and whatever deity or anything that watched over the universe?

Her blood practically stops pumping, and the shock of his words make her stop mid-overthinking.

Her mother?

She'd let herself get that vulnerable, to the point of speaking of her mother?

A silence falls between the two, the both of them wishing they'd kept their mouths closed.

"When did I?" She cuts the tension with her shaky words, avoiding eye contact as she sits up.

How could she let that happen? Yes, of course, the absence of a mother could be noticed in her life, and others not very close to her could be curious.

It was a very sensitive matter to her, and the wound of grieving could be one that would feel fresh years and even decades later.

"Last night- No, the day before yesterday.." He says, voice deeper than usual.

'Idiot, you should go on a detox and never, ever touch something as simple as a shot of vodka.'

The thoughts and assumptions brew in her mind, and she takes a breath before asking.

"Was it bad?"

Night terrors, they weren't something she had carried into her adult life, at least not lately.

They became a thing after the fact, and therapy sessions during her teenage years in England had definitely helped immensely.

She did notice changes in her behavior when confronted with the idea of not having a mother, even later in life. She could have as many women in her live as possible, but eventually she felt as if nothing could ever compare to a mother’s love.

And that, that was still confronting to know years later.

It brewed jealousy in her mind and soul. Seeing Luis go on brunch dates with his mother. Amira talking about the fashion shows she'd attended with her mom.

And Jude..

The relationship he had with his mother was absolutely beautiful, so beautiful she couldn't help the pit forming in her stomach when they interacted.

Even when his mother came over to her house to check up on them. Not that the two adults needed it, a mother's love is to care for her child. In more ways than just saying, 'I love you' or 'Do you need any help?'.

It was also watching and observing, allowing your child to grow up into a beautiful human being while staying healthy and being there for them.

"No, not at all." He lies, it's for the best, he thinks.

Judging from her expression, there is no need for more embarrassment or honesty that will turn sour.

y/n nods her head, and realizing her slipping mental state and thoughts, she stands up.

"I'll go to bed early tonight.." She mumbles, not bothering to hear his response, feet hitting the staircase with haste and impatience as she retreats into the comfort of her own room.

Leaving a confused, conflicted Jude behind in the living room.

Pity, is all he could describe the empty feeling. Words he wants to say, like bile, rising up to his throat, only to never leave his mouth.

"Make sure you have your dress ready, y/n. I don't want you scrambling to the mall the day before the party." My dad speaks, placing his apron on the hook beside the kitchen counter.

"Come on-"

I huff, rolling my eyes as if to dismiss his words.

"You did it last year, and the year before that."

He had been back for- not even twenty-four hours, and all he did was; nag, complain, and nag some more.

Thankfully, I had cleaned up the house a little before he arrived, so that would be a topic avoided today.

"Did you vacuum the stairs too?"

Or not.

I open my mouth to give him a snarky reply, but he beats me.

"Never mind that, just make sure you have everything you need on time."

With the end of the year coming closer, the annual co-hosted New Year’s party between Real Madrid and my dad's firm would take place.

It was absolutely grand every time, and this year wouldn't be that much different from what I had heard from my father.

"Actually, you know, since I'm not a teenager anymore.." I begin, batting my eyelashes with sass.

"I planned my outfit with Amira's help, so don't you worry about last-minute mall runs."

"Good, I just hope it's not too short- even worse if it has ten different cutouts." He says, the exhaustion in his face way too visible.

His business trip, and the situation with Jude had probably been keeping him busy and up until late.

At least the party could help him unwind a bit.

"I assure you. No ten cutouts.."

"Alright, dinner is ready. Go ahead and call Jude down for me."

I grab the kitchen marble in annoyance, nails grazing it and making small scratching sounds.

"Can't I just shout from here?" I ask, pleading eyes looking at his.

"Now.." He warns again, pushing me away from the counter.

Jude and I hadn't talked more than five sentences, respectively, a day since that day. It felt weird, like I'd just been stripped naked and vulnerable, all for him to see.

But I'd been curious about him, even if I tried to deny it.

He'd been going out of the house more often, hanging with friends and teammates at their houses. Mostly, since I'd warned and threatened him early on about bringing people over, let alone anyone knowing we'd been living together for the past few weeks.

With a heavy heart, I walk up to his door, knocking harshly and jumbling out a 'dinner is ready' before dashing down the stairs, back into the kitchen.

So much, too much had happened within a short period of time, and I honestly couldn't even begin to process it head-on.

At least I had a warm meal to keep me occupied for now.

Oh, and lovely tension at the dinner table..

[blingblong55]

Snow at the beach- John "Soap" MacTavish NSFW

Based on a request: Hi there. I wanted to make a request for something a bit personal. All this week, my family has been criticizing my weight (which I have struggled with my whole life) and told me point-blank that no one would ever love me because of it. That being said, I would like to request a writing with Soap. Let's say the reader has been avoiding sex with him for a while. They'll kiss and stuff, but as soon as he starts pulling her shirt up, she pulls it back down and makes some sort of excuse. This goes on for a while until Soap confronts her about it. She basically then goes off, pointing out all her bodily flaws and how fat and hideous she thinks she is and asks him how he could ever think she was sexy. And all he says is, “How can I NOT?” And he makes love to her and every time she makes a complaint about her body or calls herself ugly, she shushes her, ultimately taking her in front of a mirror and making her look at herself and how sexy she looks taking him. And when they're done, Soap should talk about how she's not fat, she's cute and squishy. ---- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, established!relationship, self!degrading, body!issues, unprotected!sex, plus size/chubby!reader ----

A/N: anon, I hope you find love from family elsewhere, there words are not correct because love is not by bodies, its by hearts and emotions. Anyway, I got carried away in the smut...love you <3

Three weeks ago, the issue started. Your family decided to visit you and your boyfriend, and that's exactly when they commented how he must be lying to you about loving you. Surely a man like himself wouldn't be with a girl like you. "A girl like me?" you asked and your mother nodded. You know, big…fat and if we are honest, ugly because your body makes you ugly, honey," she feigns kindness as she says this. You don't let her see how terrible her words hurt, so when Johnny and your family were talking, you excused yourself and walked to the bedroom.

In the comfort of the room, you cried, wiped your tears and fixed your makeup. What if they were right? What if Johnny was just trying to pretend to love you to get with a woman who according to them is beautiful? It's funny, watching yourself cry in front of the mirror when just that morning, Johnny watched you smile as you applied makeup.

Once they were gone and the night took over the skies, Johnny found himself sitting on the bed, waiting as his bonnie got out of her shower. He looks around, impatient because he knows how naturally beautiful you look after your showers. If it were for him, he'd create a temple just to worship you, because to him your beauty comes from within.

When you two lay in bed, he turns to you, his hands caressing your sides as his eyes look over your lovely goddess-like body. He leans in, his lips capturing yours in an ever-loving kiss. He places himself on top of you, his hands wandering into your shirt as they always do. Usually, this would bring butterflies but with the conversations held during the day, those butterflies were long gone from your system. All you could think about was the truth that you believed from the serpents you call family.

"Sorry, I'm…tired, Johnny, not tonight, okay?" you say and he nods. He is a gentleman after all so if you say no, that's where it ends and he just cuddles you to sleep.

After the three-week mark, his patience runs thin. You avoid his neck and shoulder kisses, you no longer sleep in the comfy tank top you like. You begin to distance the intimacy of tough he would provide. Of course, he would respect your desire to not have sex but he knows there is something more deeper than tiredness or lack of lust for him.

"Lass, what's the matter?" he asks one night and you sigh. It was time the truth lay in bed with you both. "I don't think we should continue this," you say, trying to keep distance. It was common for you to do this with men you thought were too good to be true for you, you break it off and regret it later. But he is different; you never see life after Johnny because he is it for you.

"Naw, we're no' daein this. Ye cannae just expect me tae accept this," he says with hints of sadness. "Johnny, it's not fair if you say with me. You don't deserve to be with a girl of my size-" you say and he cuts you off. "Don't ye dare finish that thought, bonnie. Ye're this incredible, gorgeous girl an' I'm one lucky bastard tae hae found ye afore another man did. I love ye, I love that silly wee mind, I love wakin' up tae ye beside me," he says and leans in. Your eyes try to play strong against the floods of tears that threaten to drown your eyes.

He takes your hand into his, placing it over his heart, "Ye're this smart, funny, stupid at times," he chuckles and goes on, "..look, whit I'm trying tae say is, I love ye. I dinnae see myself with some lass ye think I deserve, whatever that stupid thing meant. I deserve a bonnie that holds me close when I come home frae work. The kind of lass that takes me tae quiet places because she likes them, the kind of lass that makes me laugh so hard, the kind of lass I see masel' in fifty years," he says before he gets emotional and clears his throat.

"My mum always said, find yer other half, worry about their looks when they are sick and dinnae tell ye. An' damn it, y/n, I worry when ye get sick and don't smile, I worry when ye look in that damn mirror and think tae yersel' that yer body isnae enough. So dinnae tell me yer not enough for me when every damn day I find masel' worshippin' yer body like it's my religion. I fuckin' love you," he says out of breath as he looks into your eyes. His gaze is full of sincerity.

You shake your head. "I'm fat, even if I wanted to, there are things I can't do, I prefer dim lights for sex…I limit your life of adventure by being this way," you say with tears finally falling. "Look at me, I'm just not deserving of you. A guy like you doesn't just magically fall in love with a girl like me!" you say frustrated in wanting him to understand.

"Cut the bullshit, bonnie! I rather die for ye than any other girl! Cannae ye see that ye have bewitched my heart and soul with those sweet eyes and lips? That yer laughter alone makes me a madman when I cannae hear it? I have fallen for ye over and over, and if it takes me lifetimes tae make ye realise I'm the one that needs yer soul attached to mine, then I'll sit and wait for ye tae understand that." he holds both your hands by now as he pulls you in.

"You don't get it-!"

"Maybe I don't, but god damn do I love ye," he says breathlessly and cups your face and without a warning, kisses you like there is no tomorrow.

"Ye are the love of my life. Skinny, tall, fat, short, stupid or smart, I love ye and I fucking love this gorgeous body of yours," he says between pecks to your lips.

Your tears staining your cheeks as he wipes them away and makes you walk to the mirror. "Look at ye, bonnie. Men used to worshipped women like ye,…still do," he mumbles the last part.

You look at him and he smirks. He closes the door and bends you over the sink. "Just look at how I make love tae ye, yeah? If you dinnae believe I love you the way ye are, break up with me," he kisses the back of your neck, taking grip of your hair and slowly parts your legs, undoes your clothes and spits on his fingers.

The euphoria and anticipation built up in Johnny as he let out a chuckle, his hand sliding up your leg to grab your ass. "Yer goin' to make me a madman, ye wee temptress," he whispered, tilting your head down to kiss him. His tongue slithered into your mouth, pressing you against him more, feeling your fingers stroking his hard cock.

His hand slid back to your ass, squeezing it before he turned you around. "Bend over the table and show me that ass," he demanded, his voice a mix of desire and command. He was losing control, thinking of how tight and perfect your ass was. 

Your body is the perfect temple for his every loving heart and it's time he worships it again but better this time.

"Fuckin' perfect," Soap praised, eyeing your wet pussy and puckered ass. His cock twitched, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He stepped up, taking one of the lube from the table, unscrewing the cap after squirting it on his fingers. "Ease back against me, lass," he ordered, spreading the lube on your puckered hole.

"Take my fingers," he commanded, coating two fingers in lube before slowly pushing them into your ass. Johnny groaned softly at the sensation, feeling your muscles clench around his fingers. "That's it," he praised, his other hand fondling your pussy, slick with your arousal. The scent of sex filled the air, heavy and intoxicating.

"Come on, lass… Tease me some more," he growled, pulling his fingers out, his cock aching to fill you. Johnny stepped away for a moment to roll a condom onto his cock, grunting with the effort of restraint. When he stepped back, his eyes were dark and intense. "Slip those wee cheeks apart…" He commanded eyes on your ass. "Ye're mine, Y/N."

"Nngh," Johnny groaned, the sight of you eagerly waiting for him driving him over the edge. "Alright, lass, take it," he growled, pushing his cock against your tight entrance. He lined his tip against your tight pussy lips, feeling you quiver even more.

"Ye feel fuckin' amazing, ye know that?" He asked jaw clenched as he slowly pushed himself inside you. Your tight walls engulfed him, sending shivers down his spine. "Such a perfect lass," Johnny moaned, grinding his hips, a bit rougher into yours. He grabbed your hips, holding them tightly, feeling that you were made for his cock.

"Fuckin' take all of me," he growled, pulling back slightly before plunging himself in deep, the sound of their clothes slapping together, your moans and his grunts filled the air. Johnny began to thrust into you, each stroke harder and more intense than the last. His grip on your hips tightened, feeling a roughness in him, a need to claim you. "Ah, ye like that, Y/N…don't ye?" He snarled, his voice bordering on a roar.

His hand snakes to your throat, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your body and his move in a cosmically beautiful passion as he makes love to you in the best way he can. Your eyes lock with his, the love he has for you is evident in the soft eyes he gives you. He fucks you like a whore but treats you like the princess you are, and that's what makes this all so beautiful.

Your whimpers, mixed with that beautiful face that is riddled with pleasure makes him chuckle a little. "Oh, ye're beggin' for it. Ye dirty kinky slut," Johnny hissed, his hands leaving your hips, only to grab your hair, yanking your head back into an almost uncomfortable angle. "Take it, take my cock, and scream for me, lass," he demanded, increasing his pace, his thrusts harder, leaving no time to catch your breath.

He leaned down to nibble your neck, "You make me feel alive, ye know that, Y/N? I live for this, for the way I lose myself in ye, for the way ye take my cock so perfectly." Johnny's breathing grew ragged, "Fuck, ye're so tight, so wet."

"I'm gonna cum, deep inside ye. I'm gonna fill ye up," he grunted, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Cum with me, lass. Show me how you feel--" He didn't finish, unable to stop himself as they reached their peak together, his cock pulsing inside you, his cum filling your sweet pussy as he moaned your name, his pleasure ringing through the chamber. "Ah, Y/N…!"

You scream in pleasure his name, earning his pants to get rougher as he so gently kisses your neck. His eyes never leave that sight of you in the mirror.

"Nngh," Johnny groaned, his cock throbbing inside you as he waited for the aftershocks of your orgasm to subside. He waited for your body to steady, enough to pull out without making a mess. "Easy, Y/N," he whispered, slowly pulling out and tucking his spent cock away.

"Ye made me cum so hard, and I love every second of it," he praised, grabbing his clothes. Johnny lifts your chin to look at him. "That was… fuckin' amazing, lass," he admitted, unable to stop a grin.

He brushed the hair back from your face, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Ye always leave me breathless, Y/N," he chuckled, a feral gleam in his eyes. 

Your face cooling down as you lean to his kiss your arms wrap around him so beautifully. He lifts you and smiles, "Ye believe me now?" he kisses your cheek and you nod. A moment like this, where you can sit naked in front of him, where it feels like a realistic romance movie, where the girl finds the guy that was made for her.

He truly does love you, no matter the size or shape…or even if others whisper venomous words into your ear. He is the land of peace in which your body has found comfort, the one man that in a sea of snakes and evil standards makes you feel at home, even if you wake up looking like a mess. In this world, he and you stick together, not for the looks or the vanity the world tells you, you must fit in. His love is rare, comes every few lifetimes, it's beautiful and weird like snow at the beach.

A/N: at the end of the day, you need to love yourself, no matter your size of if you meet society's standards of beauty because you are your own standard of beauty. I love you, but I'm sure your love for yourself is stronger <3 (which it should be) Also, only tagged those that let me know they are comfortable with plus size!reader pics and those that I believe dont mind it

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@honestlyhiswife @ikohniik @who-can-appease-me @konigssultwithghost @lovelyvqer @nobodys-coffee @the_royal_bee @luvecarson @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @sleepyycatt @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza @anonymuslydumb

[corvidcrossbow]

would you maybe write some daryl fluff? maybe reader is carols adopted daughter (20ish years old)

daryl comforting reader after henry and how carol acted in the tunnel? maybe r sees carol taking pills n stuff. idk just daryl maybe talking to carol “what about her? henry’s gone but she’s still here!” just daryl sticking up for reader and hugging her n looking after her while carols off.

~•♡•~ What One Has

➳ Summary: Following the Savior war, Carol took you and Henry in as her adoptive children. But through the events of the Whisperer war, your relationship with her became sort of estranged; at least you had Daryl looking out for you (Daryl + Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Post Whisperer war, around 10x18 + 10x21

➳ Word count: 1.9k

➳ C/W: Mentions of pike scene

➳ A/N: Ima be so fr, I struggled writing this, I think because I wasn't quite sure what direction I wanted to go but I needa stop sittin on this n I hope you like it nonetheless anon 😭🫶 Hopefully now that opening day at my job has passed I can refocus on writing (and hopefully we never have a day like that ever again cuz someone dropping and coding in front of me was not in any of my expectations 🗿)

Daryl groaned an exhale and shifted in his blankets, rolling over onto his back with a clenched fist resting on his forehead. Darkness shrouded his room in the basement, Dog curled up close to him no matter how many times he tried to ward the canine off from dirtying the plush couch by sleeping on it too.

Despite the threat of the Whisperers eliminated, and what he could only hope would be some time for rest, he didn't rest. Sleeping never proved easier no matter how many times a conflict was eased: he knew more would always follow. Especially now, where the repercussions of Alpha and her actions were so grave it shook foundations he'd prayed would stay stable.

The archer threw back his covers, picking himself from the makeshift bed and finding a shirt he'd earlier thrown aside, and a pack of cigarettes set on the edge of his workbench. He tisked at Dog, instructing him to stay while he quietly existed from the cellar, carefully ascended the stairs and opened the front door to head outside and smoke.

Closing it and throwing his head back to clear the messied hair from his face, he paused at the figure already occupying the right side of the steps. In the faint glow of moonlight, he recognized you despite your hunched posture, seemingly trying to obscure yourself.

“Why ya out ‘ere?”

“Same reason you are.”

It was a rhetorical question, really. He knew why, who this was about. It wasn't the first time he'd found you awake in the night as he was, having become an increasing commonality over the past 10 months since you moved here, and increasingly concerning.

Daryl stuffed the pack away in his pocket, coming to sit near you on the opposite end of the step, propping his elbows on his thighs. “Ya won’ talk ‘bout it?”

“It's not really gonna make a difference,” You replied, head bowed to stare at the wooden planks in front of you, twisting a loose thread you'd plucked from your jeans between your fingers.

“Could. Least yer not carryin’ it by yerself,” He tried to persuade you. Although he was guilty of doing it himself, his conscience didn't sit well with knowing those close to him were lost in their own minds like he so often was. Especially you, who he not only cared about, but had cared for. “C'mon, ‘m listening.”

You heaved an uneasy sigh, reluctantly accepting that he was right. He felt like the only person you had at this point. “I miss her.”

Daryl's head turned a bit so his gaze could flick to you then shifted back, nodding – more to himself – understandingly.

“And it's so weird because she's, what… 30 feet away from me right now? Maybe less? But she feels even further than she did when she just up and left to go on that boat.” You paused for a moment, coaching yourself through your breaths and not allowing them to grow erratic. “I thought, maybe after everything at the tower, she'd warm back up to me again. But I feel like the… thing, wore her raw, and then the blizzard froze her so solid she won't thaw back out.”

The man stayed silent, taking in your every word but knowing to speak now would halt the tracing of your thoughts; hinder you from fully opening up.

“Does she think because I'm grown it doesn't have a major effect on me? Henry wasn't just her son, he was like my brother. Families are supposed to be there for each other when you lose someone– and, and then I almost lost her too. I mean, you remember all the pills; how she never left her room. I could hear her some nights, just talking to herself. She was talking to something that wasn't real more than she talked to me!”

Now you were struggling, that choking feeling tightened around your throat and broke some of your words, mask slipping as the weight of everything started to collapse in on you just like– “And the cave. I… I'd never been more scared in my life, being in there with you guys. There's so many times I thought I was gonna die but nothing scared me like that. I still hear all the walkers sometimes, how she screamed, the sound of that dynamite going off. I still feel like I'm coated in dust just–... What was she thinking? I was right next to her. It's like I was invisible, or erased from her memory, and all she remembers is Henry.”

Daryl pulled you to him before you'd even realized you were crying, holding your stiff body against his, and through a few sobs, feeling you relax and give in. His strong arm wrapped around you was the most secure you'd felt in a long time.

“Shhh… s'alrigh’. ‘M ‘ere.” Soothing words were few and simple, but they were what you needed; the reminder that someone saw you, remembered you, and took account for your feelings in all of this.

You scooted closer to him, further tucking your head into his chest as if you were trying to finally find a moment of peace by escaping into his embrace. Daryl rubbed his palm over your shoulder, doing nothing but just being there for you.

A moment passed and you recomposed yourself to some extent, shuffling away with a sniffle while he loosened the hug. His eyes caught yours for just a second, seeing so much of himself reflected in your irises.

“Sorry, didn't mean to…” You trailed off while rubbing your face with the back of your hand, ridding the salty streaks from your skin and gesturing. You turned away, embarrassed from your venting and finding it hard to face him.

“Don't. Whole point'ah talkin’ is so ya ain't bottlin’ allat to yerself.” He quieted again, casting his gaze to you then up to the sky as he fidgeted with his hands. “Had a brother too; from before. Was an asshole, but still ma brother.”

You perked up a little, following his line of sight to the black above you. “What happened?..”

“Wa'salways gettin’ stuck with tha wrong people; last time jus’ cost ‘em. Happened bouta year into this; had tah put ‘em down mahself.”

“I'm sorry…” You swallowed and unsurely nibbled on the gummy flesh of your cheek. Was there ever really a right way to respond to that kind of thing?

“Ts'fine, long time ago. Point is I get how it is tah lose family like tha’, ‘nd ‘ll always listen when ya need it. Ya got me.”

“Thank you… for everything; bein’ there every time you already have. I really appreciate it, Daryl.” Truthfully, you'd flat out needed it. He'd remained a constant when all else altered. “I just don't know what to do anymore. Dad's been so distant too, and if I'm gonna lose him to cancer... I'll need her there for that.”

You licked your lips, taking a shaky inhale and biting your tongue a bit. “Sometimes I feel like all she sees when she looks at me is my head on a pike too.”

Daryl's jaw tensed, fearing you'd confess something like that. “‘Ll talk to ‘er.”

“No, you don't have to do that. I know you two are already–”

“Nah. ‘M gonna. Ya shouldn't ever think somethin’ like tha’. She still cares ‘bout ya: ts'jus’ hard for ‘er, been through a lot.” He gave a gentle squeeze to your shoulder before removing his hand. “She loves ya. Get sum rest.”

You nodded faintly, taking another breath to gather yourself and lifting from the spot to retreat inside, leaving the man to his own solemn nature.

❥-》》—————➣

Daryl often wondered if some things were worth it, this included; begrudgingly agreeing to let Carol tag along with him on what was meant to be a hunt, yet tracing paths back to that long abandoned cabin he would've preferred to add ‘forgotten’ in the title of.

He damned Dog for leading him back there, but figured something was going to push out the full story regarding how he spent all those years in the forest – and at least it opened the conversation for more important ones that needed to be had.

It wasn't ideal; borderline arguing with the woman he'd so casually dubbed his ‘best friend’, who'd been there when he needed her and vice versa. It hurt, but it wasn't all she hurt him for, and he was far from the only one she did.

“I'm sorry for Connie,” She spoke, head bowed and pursing her lips to shove back the tears that gathered in her waterlines. “But I'm not sorry for going after the horde and I'm not sorry for making Alpha pay for killing Henry because I was right.”

“‘Nd tha's all tha’ matters; you bein’ right, huh?” Daryl angled to look at her, keeping his forearm braced against the wooden post. She questioned the depth of his motivations, and he shook his head disapprovingly.

“Ts'ain't all about ‘em, ‘ts barely ‘bout me. ‘Ts ‘bout'cher damn kid; tha one ya still got.” They met eyes for a moment before hers shot away, shamefully avoiding the confrontation. “Ya think ‘bout ‘er in all this? Tha’ what you lost, she lost too? Ya know feels like she lost you? Tha’ she don’ sleep much anymore, misses you like yer already gone, ‘cause ya might as well be … Ya still have ‘er, ‘ts sum’thin’ we can't say fer a lotta people, so quit actin’ like ya don't.”

A painful silence settled, clawing at the both of them as he pivoted away and focused out the dirtied glass plane ahead of him. The archer bit back further words, part of him regretting the harshness of such even though it felt required.

“Ya shouldn'tah come.”; brought Carol's sharper attention back, sparking meaner accusations and disclosures between them – predominantly on Daryl's part – regarding their situations.

She turned around, drifting fingertips over the structuring of the cabin's foundation and sniffling before muttering a few things more and trailing into the other room.

Tension hung heavy enough to keep it mostly quiet, even as they later parted ways while returning to Alexandria, forced through seeming trials; Daryl with his motorcycle, and Carol while attempting to cook.

Once he finally got that damn bike working and rode home, he stifled a chuckle at how the silver-haired woman stood there, disheveled appearance matching his own. The man appreciatively declined her offer for soup, exhausted from his troubles and preferring to just go lay down with Dog.

He followed the shepherd round the house to enter through the front door, watching the cheerful wagging of his tail as he padded across the hardwood and down steps to the basement.

Daryl readjusted his crossbows strap around his shoulder, brushing back his hair before descending. He picked up Carol's voice in the distance, sequenced by yours, and paused to shift his vision for just a quick glance; you perched against the kitchen counter, bowls on the surface, and for the first time in a while, a genuine smile on your face as the older woman came up beside you.

His own tugged the slightest bit at one side of his mouth, satisfied with the apparent reconnecting. He continued his action, setting his things down in his room before partially undressing and flopping back on that couch.

Even if his relationship with Carol remained rocky, granting some stability to yours was enough for him. That was worth it.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: cisfem Character: Donquixote Rosinante Vibe: NSFW dubious consent AU: Monster AU Prompt: Writer's Choice (Pliant when horny) Gift Giver: @fanaticsnail

Summary: Winged Naga Rosinante and the unfortunate runaway sacrifice who ran into him (vs being fed to his brother, but I didn't really get into the specifics of that in the story).

Content Notes: dubious consent, pliant when horny, double penetration, monster Rosi got two dicks, mind fuck

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

The cave had not been empty.

You ran through the woods, twigs and underbrush snapping and rustling at your every move. You weren’t trying to be quiet, you were trying to be fast. You needed to get back to the village before what had been sleeping in that cave caught up with you.

The human face had caught you off guard, but when the clouds had cleared you realized just how inhuman it actually was. The eyes held you, almost dragging you in, but you’d bolted before he could grab you. The human hands were attached to arms that were covered in scales. Dragon, snake - you didn’t know, but only because you hadn’t stuck around to find out.

The lights of the village came into view before a blur of motion whipped in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. The beast coiled around you, a long snake-like body glinting in the moonlight. The blonde hair on his head was wavy, and golden even in the silver light of the moon. Intense eyes watched you, color and clarity pinning you in place.

You tried to scream, but wide, white, feathery wings snapped open, blotting the village from view and making everything silent.

You couldn’t hear your heart, or your breathing.

There were no more sounds in the forest, and the soft din of the village was gone.

The world had never before been so completely silent.

You could feel the impact of the ground as you fell back and landed on your ass, but not even the sound of a grunt, or the clatter of your teeth, or the soft rumple of leaves and dust could be heard. The beast shifted, coming down to you and tightening his coils.

Relax.

The word comes into your mind, even though you hadn’t heard it. You can feel your heart begin to calm and you’re able to focus on your surroundings better.

Calm.

You relax more, as the strange emotion washes over you. Now that you’re not gripped by fear you realize that this creature, some sort of winged naga, is very handsome. His face is gentle, if not focused intently on you, and his actions are careful.

As the long coils of his tail nudge and move you lovingly, you become aware that he could’ve snapped you up like lightning if he’d meant to do so. He only stopped you because-

- right. You’d been out at the cave to get away from the village. You were supposed to be sacrificed, but your guard had fallen asleep and you’d made a break for it. If you went back now.

Mine.

His? Was this who you were supposed to be sacrificed to? That didn’t seem right.

The tail coils around your arms, but you barely notice. It’s warm. The night had been cold, but the warmth from this creature was comforting. Once, twice, you hadn’t given it much thought until the tail slipped between your legs, parting them as it lifted you up. The tail was thick like his torso. It was almost like being on the back of a horse as he lifted you easily and brought you closer to his face.

The bumps of the smooth scales are an interesting sensation against your skin, and it pulls you out of your calm enough to take note. There’s a warmth that throbs in your body and you struggle against the scales.

The handsome faced creature leans in closer, wings folding around you both. He reaches out and very lightly brushes his fingers up your neck, tilting your head up with a single finger under your chin. This act pulls your gaze to his and you can feel your mind go fuzzy even as your body throbs harder.

Your lips move, but you’re not sure what words you would say if you could say anything.

Kiss.

You part your lips and nod. There’s no reason to over think anything. You couldn’t escape now even if you had the clarity to do so.

His lips are soft, the kiss is gentle. It’s warm, and a little dry, and it takes a moment for you to realize that his tongue is forked, but he’s already exploring your mouth, a hand at the back of your head holding you close. A soft moan flutters against your ribs and you can feel the tail coiled around you tense in response.

Touch.

Of course, you think. You’re already touching me. I’m surrounded by scales, the ridges are sending shivering pleasure through my skin. Why even ask at this point?

The kiss breaks and he leans back enough to look into your hazy eyes.

Please.

You nod, and the coils fall away from you, only the one between your thighs staying, keeping you at an even level with him. Without prompting you pull the thin whisper of clothing you’d been left with off, tossing it aside before leaning back and placing your hands behind your hips, leaning against his tail, effectively offering yourself up.

Large hands grip your body and with the heavier touch you can feel the rough callouses and scars marred along his skin. In the moonlight you hadn’t noticed them, but now that you can feel them, you notice the criss-crossed lines everywhere. The struggle this creature has stood against must’ve been tremendous.

Rough thumbs roll over your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh. There’s no sound as you gasp at the touch, no sweet song as your body trembles from the building warmth. When his hand moves down to your thighs you grabb onto the wrist still at your chest, holding on as you look down and watch his hand.

You want him to touch you. Every part of your body is on edge for it, coiled and tense and desperate. You’ve never needed someone to touch you more.

His fingers press against your clit as his lips devour yours again. If not for his power your surprised screech would’ve echoed through the entire village. Your fingers claw at his wrist as his fingers work jolts through your body, fingers slipping further down you slit and pushing into your pussy as his thumb worked against your clit.

More.

More, please, more! You nod your head, whimpering soundlessly. Wet slick against his scales is making you feel them more acutely, and his tail wraps around your body again. This time the scales seem to pet your body, bringing you closer to the edge as he moves you closer to his torso. Wet fingers push into your ass, and your body jolts. The strange sensation is so slicked, so careful, that there’s no pain you can sense.

It feels good, it all feels so good, you don’t care what he does, you just want more. Want him to give you more. You want to sob and cry for him, you want to scream his name for the moon to hear.

“Rosinante.” He says in a soft tenor voice.

The sound barely registers as the wet sounds of his fingers leaving your ass is followed by the heated, tapered tip of his cocks lining up with both your cunt and ass. You’d never lain with anyone before now, and this creature was going to claim you entirely.

The sweet stretch was terrifying and relaxing at the same time. More than you knew how to deal with, overwhelming and seemingly without end. Just before you were certain you couldn’t take anymore, thick knots nested against your body.

His name would reach the moon, either as your final euphoric cry of death, or as the first hot gasping breath heralding many more sweet crescendos afterward.

Either way, you were happy, because you were his.

[scribbledghost]

if I were dating someone in the military, I think I would struggle with anxiety over fem! simon's safety during a military deployment. how do you think she would go about comforting us?

I think she primarily starts with acknowledging your anxiety here. It's perfectly rational to be scared for her safety, doubly so since she's a part of the 141. Her job is even more dangerous than your standard military job - and that certainly doesn't help your nerves.

Truthfully, there's... not much she can do, and she acknowledges this too. She's completely at the mercy of her superior officers; when she gets the call to leave, she has to heed it.

Therefore, when she can, she tries to communicate with you. Send you photos of where she's at, writes you letters, texts you, calls you, etc. Anything she can to let you know that she's okay and that she's doing everything she can to make it home.

However, a lot of the time, there are decent stretches of time when she doesn't have any means of communicating with you. Whether it be because she's just out in the middle of nowhere, or because she's gone dark for her own safety. It's times like these that she puts in some favors (Mostly with either Price or Laswell) to give you some updates when they can that she's alright.

When she's home, she does everything she can to make up for it. She'll write little notes that she leaves scattered around the place for you to find when she's deployed again. She makes sure to spend as much time with you as she can.

I think what it boils down to is that she understands. She gets why you'd be so anxious about her safety on her deployments; it's perfectly rational to fear for her while she's away doing what she does. She tries to console you when you talk it out, reminding you that she's come back from much, much worse. Telling you that she's gone through so much that, honestly, a lot of the missions she goes on are routine now. (Granted, that... may not soothe your fears very much, since that's just confirming how violent her job is, but she's doing her best).

So I think she tries to focus on comforting you in the moment. When she's home, she wants you to focus on that - the fact that she's safe and with you. When she's away, she tries to communicate with you when she can that she's still okay.

[three--rings]

So it's time for my "alt-right dudebro gamer" Dragon Age opinions.

(Note: I'm a 45 year old womanesque queer person who mostly plays indie and Japanese games.)

(To further my cred I was super excited to meet and hear Karen and Patrick Weekes talk about this game in development at Havencon a couple years ago...it's a small queer con in Austin.)

Dragon Age is my all-time favorite game series. I adored Inquisition, though DA2 has my favorite characters overall.

My opinions about the gameplay reveal are:

The environments and background graphics and effects look awesome.

The character design still bugs me quite a bit. The faces, ESPECIALLY the female faces look Disney/anime/Overwatchy in structure. The textures looks a lot better in game than in that trailer. I miss my Not Particularly Pretty Female Characters. They have sameface now.

There's something off in the lip syncing. Mouth animations looks weird. I can't define it more than that but I noticed it with multiple characters and it through me out.

Varric's hair annoys me SO MUCH. Someone pointed out he looks like Blackwall and now I CANNOT UNSEE.

The structure of the game/quests/whatever looks fine, this reminds me of all the moments running around Haven at the beginning of Inquisition. Some of my least favorite moments, but yanno.

The combat. I'm very worried about the combat.

I am 45 years old and I have arthritis in my hands from gaming and knitting. I gave up knitting to keep gaming. I cannot play some action games. Like Hades, I tried but simply couldn't continue more than an hour because of the pain. And that's with my hands in good shape these days.

Some action games I can play, but only on easy, and sometimes only if I limit my playtime. This is simply a reality I've had to get used to, but it does kill me sometimes.

Do you know how enjoyable it was to pick up Baldur's Gate 3 and be able to put it on a higher difficulty, to be able to actually struggle through combats and have to use tricks and my brain and try and fail and do it again, all without worrying about my hands? Makes me think I need to replay Origins again.

So I'm concerned. The combat in this game is focused on attack type, dodging, parrying, countering (according to bioware)....all stuff that requires quick and frequent button mashing, which is what I can't do. So I'm looking at a game that I can probably only play on easy and maybe even not then? In my favorite game series.

The question we don't really know is how different it will be from Inquisition, and I find it hard to tell from the footage since we can't see what buttons are being pressed. But I'll say that while I love it, Inquisition was the game that first hurt my hands. It made me aware of the problem and made me have to start limiting my activity.

IDK . I just hate the idea that devs have that turn based games can't do well and are inherently not exciting.

Fucking Solas motherfucking killed Bianca! That was the first time in these reveals I've been 100% reacting as a fan. NOT BIANCA!!!! HE MUST DIE!

Oh I did like the Rook in the gameplay and his face looked good. Again I feel like it's the character design and not the engine that is the problem.

As for the plot, it's interesting that Solas has gone from Main Antagonist to Opening Antagonist and I wonder if he's actually going to transition to an ally later in the game to undo whatever the fuck has gone wrong in this clip.

I do still have some worries about the writing. "She's greatest detective ever and she has a lead on Solas." So do you think that lead is the giant glowing thing in the middle of the city spitting out demons? Did you need a great detective?

And basically nothing I've seen so far has super MOVED me, as someone with serious connections to this world and the characters, other than the fucking Bianca moment. I'm hesitantly curious about some of the new companions. And if the griffon thing had come at a moment other than me going WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS? in the trailer I may have been a lot more excited.

So yeah, call me a hater or whatever. But that trailer reveal CRUSHED me emotionally. I was so depressed the rest of the day Sunday. These are my true reactions to the gameplay footage today. I don't have an agenda, other than I want the game to be good and I want it to do well and my confidence in EA and Bioware is at a very low point.

I've tried to keep a realistic mindset this whole time, but keeping in mind HOW MANY PEOPLE have left Bioware, how few OGs are left, the constant turnover in leads, the game being scrapped and redone like twice from scratch. And the game industry as a whole at this time, I have to be somewhat skeptical in general.

I'm not a skeptic overall, I was both a Cyperpunk 2077 enjoyer (but not apologist) and a Starfield defender and frankly there was a lot less reason to be skeptical of those games before release. So am I going to say "well I've been a Bioware fan since KOTOR 1 released, so I'm gonna hype it up and not point out flaws I see?" No. I'm going to be honest.

I'm not a casual Dragon Age enjoyer. I can't react casually to this stuff.

Will I play the game? Almost definitely, but am I going to wait till the release reviews? Probably.

[deoidesign]

.

[politemagic]

slasher iii & slasher iv

oh geez oh boy oh god here it is. i had to strangle this thing out of my brain and she came out kicking and screaming. unedited, just some fun slasher iii & slasher iv content on this saturday evening. this is... something

there's a good bit of triggers in here, please proceed with caution.

1.15k words

The two of them are just hardcore horror fans, right? They've seen all the classics a million times but as they're getting older it's just not enough. III is the first one to suggest it as he turns off the television after watching the newest horror box office flop. At first, IV thought it was a joke. An outlandish suggestion to throw him off his game. That was the kind of jokester that III was. But there was no humor in his voice when he said in a sinisterly quiet voice.

"We could just do that shit ourselves."

The thought caused excitement to pulse through IV's veins as III laid out the details of his fantasy. It was almost too perfect, he thought. Their calculus professor was a piece of shit who was always too hard on the class, so he made an obvious target. He had no family, which further eased IV's conscience. They'd be doing the world a favor.

It was an experience unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, the thrill of watching the light wink out of his horrified eyes as he clawed at the masks covering their faces, watching the fight leave his body as he fell limp to the floor. He found he didn't quite mind the feeling of his blood soaked jeans clinging to his legs.

III had done most of the dirty work, but who was IV to deprive him of the joy he received from plunging the knife into his victim's stomach? They tidied. up after themselves enough to erase their presence, and waited for someone to find him.

The discovery of the beloved professor’s body the next day came as a shock to the whole community, leaving the town a worried mess. Things only got worse as III and IV selected their next target. She was a young woman, engaged to be married, known for babysitting just about every kid in town– the two of them included. IV’s stomach soured at the thought, but the grin on III’s face stirred his excitement enough to quell his conscience. 

“Don’t worry mate, she’ll be perfect.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder and pulled him into his pickup truck, the bed loaded with enough hunting knives to butcher a stampede.

And perfect she was. They managed to slip into the garage undetected, slinking through the darkened hallways towards the illumination and chatter of the television in the living room. She had nodded off on the couch, her head tilted back and nestled into the corner, surrounded by blankets and pillows. III gave him a silent nod and IV walked around behind her, wrapping an arm around her neck and clamping his hand over her mouth. Her eyes shot open in fear, panic overtaking her body as her eyes raked down every intimidating inch of III as he knelt in front of her, sliding a knife out of his boot. 

IV could feel her gnashing at the flesh of his palm, and simply pressed the crook of his elbow further into her jugular. He could feel her resolve dwindling as she thrashed against his hold, trying to shove III’s towering figure away from her. But III only laughed and swatted away her comparatively small hands as he began tracing the tip of his blade up her pajama clad leg, the twinkle in his eye indicated to IV that he was thoroughly enjoying the muffled whimpers coming from behind IV’s hand, relishing in the way that her body lurched away from him.

When IV felt his hand dampening from her tears, he audibly groaned, looking down to see her beautiful eyes squeezed shut, tears running down her cheeks. If his mask wasn’t covering his mouth he would have leaned down and licked those tears off of her perfect skin himself. But instead, he managed to catch III’s attention, nodding down to her streaming tears and III laughed evilly.

He leaned over her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs, gently caressing her cheeks as he did so, despite IV’s hands covering most of her face. 

“Hey, no use for that,” III cooed. “No point of doing that at all, love.”

Her eyes opened, a bone-chilling fear shooting through her body as she saw the murderous glint in III’s eyes. The tears flowed faster, and as she tried again to break free III restrained her arms with ease, resting his body weight on top of her as he brought his knife up to her line of sight again. 

“We’re going to have a lovely time, the three of us.”

She screamed from behind IV’s hand, making one last attempt to bite at him and managed to find purchase on the meat of his palm, causing him to yelp. She sank her teeth in until she could taste his blood on her tongue, but she found his grip only tightened. When she dared a glance above her, she could see his eyes shut, breathing labored, but when he looked down at her, she realized what a mistake she had made. 

A mixture of her tears and IV’s blood dripped from her chin, and the sight sent a shockwave of excitement through III’s body. He was ecstatic to have a partner in all this, to get to experience his wildest fantasies with his best friend. To share this new side of him with his best friend. 

“Now for the fun part.” He whispered, more to IV than to her, but the words caused her heart to sink, she felt the resolve fly from her body– there was no salvation for her. The coppery tang of his blood on her tongue that had once tasted like victory now tasted of defeat. Not only would she die at their hands, she would die with their repulsive presence invading her every sense.

III felt the familiar rush of euphoria as the blade pierced through her belly, her muffled scream like a favorite song heard on the radio. He didn’t miss the way IV’s hip pressed slightly into the couch, spreading a wide grin across his lips.

This would be the fun part, indeed.

Hours later, III laid down in his bed, resting an arm behind his head as he replayed the events of the day, that same grin still plastered on his face. He felt his eyes drifting closed, sleep ready to take his body when he heard the sound of his phone vibrating on his nightstand. His heart leaped at the sight of your name, and your sweet message.

i guess you turned in early tonight. sweet dreams, i love you <3

As he laid back down, his eyes falling shut one more time, his mind conjured up the most beautiful plan for you. 

A special surprise.

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Junicrane/Starstruck Ramble

I will not be brief, all under the cut

To clear some things right off the bat:

No corpse, no proof with Juniper. Obligatory this is set in a canon where he's alive and adjacent to the agency in some way.

Reggie & Juniper are just gay to me, but I don't mind any interpretation of their sexuality

The games are set in 1967/68 to me (based on a couple bits in game) which is before it was legal to be gay in America at least (1971), which is relevant to how I interpret canon as being somewhat grounded in reality, despite unrealistic elements.

This is just an insane amount of headcanons/elements of and AU all culminated into one post. I will talk about some headcanons like they're just facts because they are established in my head, and it saves me over explaining literally everything, however I will explain some parts a little bit for clarity.

Alright. Actual beginning of the ramble:

Juniper is a character to me who had gotten so lost in his job as an actor and a social presence that in the end his whole life revolved around that 'role'. Because of this, by the time he's put into the situation where he's around the Agency, he basically knows nothing about himself, though he doesn't realise at first. Furthermore, what little identity he had has changed in so many ways. He's no longer a beloved famous actor in the prominence of public light, he's legally dead and he tarnished his career just before he was supposed to die, with the bonus of that making him lose the majority of his estate. From that, he also has horrific facial scarring from the electrical burns from literally having his face fried. I believe a friend of mine made a post about this a while ago (I also think they were the first to think it up also), but, to me, Juniper has a permanent trimmer in his right arm (aka his dominant hand) from the electrical current and it is messing with his nervous system.

All in all, he's not doing great, but he's too proud to admit that he's not doing great, because if anything, what's left of his ego is all he has as a defense since he's deep in unfamiliar water.

Before ending up around the agency (I have multiple interpretations of this, so I'm just going to bring it up generally), he'd never actually seen Reggie, and his only impression of him is a single voicemail, which was his only reference he had to later impersonate him. Juniper probably has very little feelings other than the ones he projects onto him because of Phoenix and that, at the very least, he's physically attracted to Reggie to some degree (that's like the beginning of how everything else would tumble into place in this sort of interpretation at least).

And on Crane's side? His feelings towards Juniper are probably very intense and muddled. On the one hand, he adores musical theatre, and that's his now ex-favourite actor. The thought of just casually being around him blows the bit of fanboy in him away at first because THAT'S the GUY, plus the inklings of a celebrity crush which still poke at him. And then there's the rational side of him, which knows Juniper has committed absolute atrocities on the side of Zoraxis, and hates him for that. Then there's how much Juniper comes off as an asshole at first because he refuses to cooperate with anything the Agency tried to put in place. He finds Juniper endlessly frustrating, and yet he's stuck working with him since, afterall, he's the one who knows the Agency's history with Juniper the best. I imagine him acting a lot like how he does IEYTD 1 around Juniper.

At this point, I'm just describing the pitch for a romcom.

I think the start of their relationship with one another largely started with Juniper trying to wind Crane up. It was a way of getting his attention, and I don't think Juniper knows why he's so dead set on that at first, because I don't think he realises he has a crush on 'this grump' at first. (I think that's actually the fun part about these two, because it's almost like a role reversal of the celebrity crush dynamic. This ex-big name actor has a TERRIBLE crush on an average joe and it is KILLING HIM.) But of course the Agency keeps them together because Juniper is at least conversing with Crane, so it's a start.

Through one way or another, they actually get talking casually, at least mildly at first. It takes Juniper a long time to fully deconstruct the wall he's built, and the thing is, Crane isn't the one trying to deconstruct it, at least at first, because yeah, Juniper realises if he wants Reggie to actually like him in any way, he can't keep winding him up. So they talk. Small talk at first, something rhythmic and almost easy to keep to a script. And over time that turns into actual conversations. Genuine ones in which Reggie rips out the occasional one of his jokes which Juniper is endlessly endeared about. The way he smiles just before he makes them, like he wants to chuckle at what he's about to say before he says it. That's probably when Juniper realised that he does have some vague crush on him, and that it wasn't going away.

This is what kickstarts John I can't-buy-you-things-to-impress-you-so-acts-of-service-it-is Juniper to do little things for him. It mostly starts off as him trying to make Reggie his tea how he likes it. However, the nerve damage in his arm makes that hard, as the weight of the kettle and trying to pour is hard all of a sudden. And he refuses to accept that, so he tries for a very long while. Long enough that Crane would go to investigate what was going on. And when he does see Juniper leaning over a cup with the kettle as he uneasily tries to pour it, and when Crane asks Juniper responds so matter-of-fact that his intention is nothing but genuine. And it catches Reggie off guard because Juniper hadn't done anything like that up to that point, and his very apparent vulnerability is so clearly on show.

It shifts something between them.

From that point on, conversations are longer, more familiar. Both of their attitudes soften, and Reggie makes more jokes. Juniper learns how to better use his left hand while strengthening his right back to a point where it could be used again. Slowly, they're both spending time with one another not because they have to, but just because they can. Little bits at first, not too far outside what they already were doing, but those little bits turned into long bits to a point where the other person's company was genuinely desirable.

As time passes, Juniper probably realises that he doesn't genuinely know much about himself or what hobbies he's into, because he never really had the time when he got big, and his home life in his youth wasn't bad, but it wasn't picturesque. I think Reggie would pick up on it, and absolutely try to introduce him to some things he's into. Some things stick, other things don't (corn husking very much stays Reggie's passion, and John will go with him sometimes because it's him, but it's not something he strongly cares for). Crane introduces him to a lot of music, and it's something that becomes a staple between them, with tracks they listen to more than others (tragically, I know relatively little about 60s music so I couldn't really say what). Occasionally they dance, never anything intense, think slow dancing, but the closeness is nice.

Through all of it, Juniper is battling the worst crush of his life, and he can't stand it, because I think he struggles to read people since he doesn't have anything like a script or a director to refer back to, so he has no idea if Reggie likes him back or if he's just desperate for that to be true. I think because of that any sort of confession between them would be incredibly raw, not only because of the time they live in making it hard for them to be truthful about how they love, but because it's a complete show of Juniper who's worked to be this better person. I don't exactly know how that would go, mainly because I don't have one set version of their dynamic, this post is just a generalisation of main consistent points.

Reggie does like him back, because he's gotten used to Juniper being just this guy, not a figure in the public eye, not a Zoraxis lackey, and not any sort of Agency operative (despite being under their care to some degree). He's someone he genuinely cares for, because they've given one another the time of day to learn one another, and I think because Reggie was a field agent, he was a lot better at reading Juniper than Juniper was at reading him. Eventually Juniper's company becomes something he could see around him for the rest of his life, and I think he accepts that he likes Juniper a lot more gracefully.

I think any affection directed at Juniper would at first be met with him feeling a little muddled. Reggie was a very physically affectionate person when he could be, and sure the initial flirting with one another came with the occasional little touches, but everything now was so deeply intentional. I also don't think Juniper would almost ever get over the novelty of being able to kiss him, or many other gestures, because it made the fact that they were together so very real, and it was great. I do think it comes easier to Reggie, and it's a big way of showing how much he cares, so it's important for Juniper to try and show it back because he knows how much it means to the other.

I like the idea of them eventually living with one another, too. I think Juniper would have always had a quiet little daydream of sorts where he does just live a domestic quiet life, and he can with Reggie (well, as close as they can get between the Agency and Zoraxis always being at odds), and he loves that, and he loves him, and it's immense.

I think they cook for one another a lot, it helps Juniper work on his dexterity in a controlled environment, which means a lot because it's a huge point of insecurity (that and his scars). He does improve, and Crane is proud of that and shows it and it's great. I also think they'd probably cook together too, because they can deal with being in the kitchen together and they work well with one another. It's probably a good way for them to unwind because over time they can do it in relative silence.

As I said before, I also think music is a staple in their household, and that Reggie listens to things on vinyl almost all of the time because he likes the background noise. Sometimes Juniper will catch him chuntering along to the music which he finds endlessly endearing. I wouldn't put it past his dramatic ass to also join in to fluster Reggie, but I also don't think Reggie would mind that terribly because Juniper has listened to the music enough to know the lyrics, and that's huge to him.

I don't think they are without rough patches, no relationship is, but I think the good part about them is that they're willing to talk about it (... eventually). They're used to long conversations, and while they're often less fun conversations, they're needed and they know that, and it works out.

Alright. I think I'm done for now. I haven't mentioned everything, but this definitely got the worst of it out of my system. If you ever want to hear any specific thoughts my ask box is open but other than that, behold my general dynamic for these two which has been festering in my head for years. I think they're great

[abrushwithdeath]

((Does anyone want a short starter?))

[starbound-sda-comic]

Mori’s Age Chart

as a kid, Mori was a sweet and slightly spoiled girl that came from a wealthy family. she went to a highly accredited academy and given everything she needed to grow up to succeed her mother's footsteps as CEO. however, with Mori growing up came a lot of arguments about who she is and what she wants to be. combined with a diagnosis of ADHD, her parents constantly fighting, and surviving a car accident that claimed her father right as she turned 16, Mori succumbed to the wills of her demanding mother to try to be the perfect daughter for her. when that failed, she ran away from home, skipping her high school graduation and deferring her first year of college. after returning, Mori's mother forced her to go to the same university her mother attended or otherwise work for the company, with stipulations that she had to become an engineer otherwise she would be disowned.

Mori eventually goes to university in something adjacent to what her mother wants, but her father's death and her hesitation to grow up left her broken and feeling alone, leaving her to wonder if anything else was out there other than being a tool of her family business.

Mori's story is explore more in Dorm Days

[spookylightwhispers]

On Inclusiveness

About a week ago, something happened while I was on the train. Halfway through my journey, at one stop, a man came into the train screaming. Then he sat at the one empty seat opposite me and apologized to the lady sitting beside him. I'm not sure if he did something, but after some minutes, the lady actually got up and stood near the door. And that made him mad. He starting screaming again, saying he didn't do anything, why did she get up. He went on screaming and screaming, about how society is not inclusive. He said his psychiatrist said he is getting better, and that the meds and manifesting in him. And at some point he screamed at the kid opposite him, telling the kid he should become either a lawyer, a doctor, or a psychiatrist and that he should be open-minded and make society more inclusive than it is now.

Eventually he stopped screaming. But periodically, he would randomly start screaming again. One of the things he said was that he's not stupid. And that he watches CNA (Channel News Asia), not Suria.

Twice too, he got up and went to this man standing near the door and apologized to him. The man was like "oh it's okay, no problem". Each time after apologizing he would go back to his seat. When there were empty seats beside him he called on the man to sit but he declined.

And at some point during the journey he called out to me. He called out "puan, puan". I knew he was calling me because he was speaking in Malay like he did with the man earlier. So I looked up and looked at him. And once again he started apologizing to me even though he didn't do anything to me, but I guess he was apologizing for shouting and screaming. He went on talking and explaining himself and the whole time I just kept smiling and nodding my head. Several times he mentioned his psychiatrist said he's getting better. He said he couldn't help but to let some things out, hence the screaming, but he's getting better, he's getting better. I would've given him a thumbs up but didn't want to risk coming across as being sarcastic so I didn't.

He also said you wear the hijab, you are a Muslim, I respect you. If I needed directions to somewhere I wouldn't approach others but I'd approach you because you wear hijab and I respect you. (I guess I should mention he is also a Muslim and hence why the people he chose to spoke to were also Muslim/Malay because he was probably more comfortable. and less likely to get judged. maybe, maybe...)

Finally he stopped talking. And I could feel myself tearing up, I was just focusing on not crying. I don't know why I felt sad. I felt sad.

It's so easy to parrot on about being an inclusive society. That was the exact topic I had discussed in class earlier in the morning. Yet, when you actually come across and meet the people who are being excluded, all you can do is just look down, avoid eye contact and pretend they don't exist. That's what everyone on the cabin was doing. They ignored him, ignored his screaming, did not look at him. Like as if he was invisible. I would have striked up a conversation except I haven't reached that level yet.

I'm not sure if he's schizophrenic, or what his condition was exactly but he seemed to be hallucinating. One of the things he said to me was that despite his behaviour, whatever he says is not offensive, and that he doesn't insult anyone. Which is true. He wasn't violent either. The most violent he got was during one of his screaming episodes while he was seemingly hallucinating. By that point the cabin had gotten pretty empty because the train was just a couple stops away from the last stop. So when he started screaming and pointing I knew he was definitely hallucinating because he was pointing at an empty seat, no one was there but he screamed to some invisible figure i couldn't see. And this was about as violent as he got — he stood up and moved like as if he was about to punch this non-existent person but stopped short of punching the air. He pointed and screamed "You break my soul, I break your face."

I can't forget this man and I don't think I ever will. Despite his somewhat "disruptive" behaviour, he actually seemed like a nice guy. Thoughtful, reflective, sentimental, smart. When he screamed earlier about not being stupid and that he watches the news, it might've sounded kind of funny. But it's true, he isn't stupid. His words were a bit slurred and kind of hard to make out at some parts because it felt like he couldn't get the words out fast enough, but he really isn't stupid. Towards the end of the journey when the cabin was empty and he was talking to himself or to some unknown figure, he spoke about how he wants to be a better man. But there's an entity in him, and his heart and his mind don't always align. He wants to be a better person, but it's hard. He struggles.

[quirkfics]

Endlessly with Twice??

“Do you get it?” Jin asks, soft and earnest, gloved thumbs tracing circles on your cheeks, fingers careful as they cradle the back of your neck. “You don’t!” He adds, before you can even open your mouth.  “I love you more- Most!! Shut up,” he growls, turning his half-masked head to the side to avoid whispering expletives against your mouth. 

“Jin,” you murmur, drawing his attention back to you. Your fingers are twisted into his shirt, trying to keep him close, trying to keep him from fracturing-

“Endlessly,” he blurts, and then he sucks in his cheeks, stubble bristling as he tries to hold back the other words pushing at his lips. “Every one of me,” he finally breathes out, and stops your pleading to remember with his mouth, hot and desperate against yours.

[train-fans-anonymous]

Guys my 2000 word Rodimus angst fic got deleted from my drafts because I forgot about it ☹️

[irisbaggins]

...oh no. Neverafter is, genuinely, a perfect angle for a Master thesis, especially with the two ideas I currently have in mind. I have a deep love for fairy tales, and this campaign is very intriguing to me (just started it, no I'm not procrastinating an exam what-). I'm still going to angle my first idea around Burrow's End (it's quite literally the best thing ever), I'm looking at Neverafter, believe you me.

Anyway. Off I go watching more Neverafter instead of doing my Middle English exam. Oh well.

[prodkeiji]

when will you stop villainizing us lol