#Mis-Direct Action

[whorejolras]

i'm saying it. i don't think joly would work in a hospital. i think his medical career would be informed by his politics + radicalisation and his + his friends regular drug use, he would be outraged at how the medical industry handles drug users, also at the medical industrial complex in general, so he would find a reputable community led harm reduction organisation to work for 🫶🏻

[thelawsofdaylight]

I'm sorry if this isn't approriate, but I don't really understand why you find Les Mis a good target for a climate protest? I get that the musical has themes that align with the protesters but like... what was the good outcome? Are there really People in that audience that don't know climate change is happening? How Will this change their mind? What action is meant to be brought on by trowing soup at paintings or disrupting a performance? Does that actually help the cause of combatting climate change at all? Does it help make people more aware, does it have an effect on the mechanisms of polluters? Isn't there anything more focused that these resources (both money and the incredible bravery and drive of the People themselves) could be better focused on. These protest feels so different from like, people chaining themselves to a private jet or the schoolchildren going up to parliaments by the thousand to demand policy chances to better their future. All of the JSO actions feels so performative, I just don't see how they are actually doing anything of even the mechanism by which they are meant to accomplish anything? Which doesn't mean that the people involved aren't great people or that the reaction of the Les Mis crowd wasn't fucked up. Just... what was even the goal?

Hey! I know it's been a while since I made that post supporting the JSO protestors but I've gotten a few asks like this in the time since (and am still getting them) so I'm responding to this as the most good-faith one in my inbox and hopefully it answers others that have been asked to me in the past couple weeks as well. Disclaimer: If I'm responding to things outside the remit of this ask, it's likely that it's because someone else sent an ask about it and I've been juggling them all in my head as I've been thinking on a response.

I think in order to answer the first part of the ask we have to tackle the second. 'What has this action achieved' only works as a comprehensive criticism if we look at it in isolation to all of JSO's other actions. What I mean by this is: JSO launched by blocking oil refineries for days on end. In the two years they've been active they've done similar actions, including but not limited to disrupting fuel distribution centres, petrol stations, interrupting fossil fuel conferences, and, most recently, trying to stop the relocation of asylum seekers to prison barges. Their actions go far beyond blocking roads and disruption of public events. I think this is important to establish as I don't know how much of a working knowledge anyone not in the UK Climate movement actually has about JSO and I think it's good we're all on the same page.

But if they do all that (effective, important) direct action, then why target Les Mis? What does a West End show have to do with fossil fuel companies and climate change? And in response to these questions I'll ask one of my own: were you aware of the fact that JSO tried to stop migrants from being deported until I mentioned it just now? A lot of these actions, the ones that actually target infrastructure and confront those directly responsible, get little to no media coverage. When news of the Les Mis action first broke out, I saw so many people on Twitter with the same reactionary takes: why target Les Mis when the Conservative Party Conference literally happened the same weekend? And that's a fair and valid point- if it wasn't for the fact that JSO were at the conference. I know this because I was there too. They had a huge bloc in the march and went on to do other actions in the city after the march had ended. The whole thing, the entire 10,000+ strong protest, got maybe 30 seconds coverage on the local news and not even a mention of JSO's presence (or of climate change in general for that matter.) JSO's previous actions directed at fossil fuel companied themselves get very little, if any, coverage compared to their big flashy sports/awards show/performance interruptions.

So yeah, some of JSOs actions are 'performative'. But I don't think it's unreasonable to suggest that even performative actions have their place within the wider struggle. I understand not liking public disruption as a tactic and I understand the issues with it, but I also think it's worth reflecting on why groups like JSO use it.

Editing my draft here to report that earlier today they smashed the frame of a painting that was previously vandalised by the Suffragette movement in 1914. That's a performative action, sure, but you have to admit it makes a point. Just like the tageting of Les Mis, a play about an unjust society and the people striving to change it, makes a point about hypocrisy. It gets the media coverage. We can debate all day about the usefulness of that coverage and if chasing media headlines should be our goal in the first place... but at the end of the day, it's been proven that JSOs membership grows every time they do something like this. It gets more people to join, which means next time it comes round to blocking key infrastructure, they'll be in a stronger position to succeed.

This isn't to say don't criticise them at all! I actually think criticisms like this one are a key part of organising and, done with care, can only make our movements stronger. I have my own issues with JSO- namely, the carelessness with which arrest is actively encouraged/promoted as the only valid form of resistance- but that's a whole other conversation and one that doesn't undermine my support and solidarity for the activists who are doing those actions (and sacrificing a whole lot in the process.) I think mass direct action movements are rarely ever perfect but I also think we need to show solidarity first and foremost when people are trying to do the right thing, especially if how they're doing it is in conjunction with or as a response to other tactics.

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Education can be expensive, but everyone should have the ability to access it. So they can pursue a life, and career that fulfills them and/or meets their needs!

You can help a family struggling to evacuate Gaza, and obtain that education!

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They are relatives of Osama Basil, a web developer who is managing his own campaign to repair his web design business and establish a stable wifi connection to the besieged Gaza Strip.

He's also trying desperately to help his younger relatives escape Gaza and improve their lives.

Please share so more people can see their need, and the progress of their campaign!

Then if/when you've got some extra money, consider making a donation.

Every action no matter how small, Helps. It helps more than you may ever know.

Thank You.

Here's the direct link to the campaign.

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A HUGE thank you to all donors and sharers who helped us get here! We've gotten this far, so we can't stop now.

Tag list to help this post make the rounds. Thanks to everyone on this list for helping campaigns get their footing! You can dm me for removal.

@a-shade-of-blue @sunnylittledragon

@selflovejolteon @virovac

@frustrated-froglet @qattdraws @heydreamchild

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[maybeseveralthings]

From the perspective of a community organizer, this seems like a really successful action according to basically any metrics they might choose to use:

- rhetorical points are entirely in their favor, it was a good play to choose and a good song to do it in. The musical is both about a (doomed) popular uprising and thr ways that governments and other systems fail individuals and whole societies

- they sure are getting a lot of attention and press

- they've got a lot of people who usually aren't talking about gas/oil/petroleum talking about those things

- it's a lot of bang for not a lot of actual people effected -- compared to say a March through a city or blocking a highway, this could not have dorectly made problems for more than 750 people including audience, performers, staff, etc. I've been part of marches that hold up a lot more traffic than that

- live theater is amazing. Part of what's amazing about it is that it's LIVE, that small (or large in this case) things can change, that there is something special about this performance, this time. These people sure got that.

- personally as a fan of the musical I'd be delighted. What an amazing story.

Some footage of the protest that I hadn't seen before in this vid from Mickey Jo!

[cloudybarnes]

bella donna

Pairing: theodore nott x reader

Summary: a sick night in bed calls for your cute boyfriend to come in and take care of you

Word Count: 800+

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰

Nothing was helping.

The soup burned your tongue, the medication didn’t cure your stuffy nose, and your throat felt like it was on fire.

You felt like total shit right about now. 

“I’m sorry mi amore.” Theodore said as he wrung out a wet rag to place on your forehead. You were laid up in your bed, covers drawn to your chin as a chill wracked through you. 

Theo sat on a small stool next to your bed. He was being the sweetest boyfriend ever. He waited on you hand and foot for everything you needed. 

He was the one to make the soup and fetch the medicine and rags for your head. 

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Theo,” you mumbled. “You’ve done literally everything right for me.”

He smiled softly, then just as quickly, his smile fell. “I just can’t believe how suddenly this came about. Something must be going around; I heard Draco coughing in class yesterday, he must be the one who got you sick.”

You chuckled but were soon thrown into a fit of coughs. The coughing was so bad, you had to sit yourself up in order to catch your breath. 

“Mio dio,” he softly said. “My poor baby.” Theo rubbed your back as you caught your breath. You smiled at him, grateful for his being here. 

“What would I do without you, Theo?” 

He smiled and left a tender kiss on your forehead. The action was so soft and sweet, your eyes involuntarily closed, a soft smile adorning your lips. Theo really was something special. While most may find him to be a brute and hard to get on with, you’d only ever seen the kind, caring boy standing in front of you. 

“The real question,” he replied, “is how could I ever live without you?”

You giggled as Theo led you from your seated position to lay down. 

“You need your rest, sweetheart. Don’t waste all of your energy sitting up.”

You nodded and let Theo guide you down. You sniffled, but all that did was send more mucus to your throat, causing it to hurt worse. A whimper came from your lips without meaning to. 

“What hurts now, dolcezza?” He felt your forehead with the back of his hand, and gently picked up the discarded rag to dunk it in the bucket of ice water on the floor. 

“Just everything: my head, my throat, my nose, it all just sucks,” you said. “At least I have you to take care of me.”

Theo smiled, his eyes alive with love for you. “I’ll always be here to take care of you, even when you’re snotty and coughing on me.” He teased as he wrung out the ice rag and placed it back on your forehead. 

“Hey!” You whined with a teasing smile. “I didn’t cough on you, just in your general direction.”

“Oh, so that’s how we’re describing it, now, huh bella donna?” 

You gave a health-hearted smile and shifted a little in bed. “I don't feel very pretty right now. I’m all snotted up and it feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“I think you look beautiful, (Y/N). Fully and truly, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart swelled. You had the sweetest boyfriend in the world. Theo never failed to make you smile and make you feel beautiful, even when you felt far from it. 

Slowly, as to not hurt the ache in your head, you pushed yourself up into a seated position. 

Theo started to fix the pillows so they would accommodate your upright position. “This okay, amore?”

You smiled down at him. Never had you felt more in love with this boy than you did just then. “It’s perfect, my love. Everything you do is just perfect, Theo. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

A pink hue tinted your boyfriend's cheeks as a smile crept onto his face. “You’re everything to me, (Y/N). I would do anything for you. Something as simple as taking care of you while you’re not feeling good is my job as your lover.” 

You didn’t think your heart could take anymore sweetest from him. “Come ‘ere,” you mumbled as you patted the empty side of the bed. “‘wanna lay with you for a little while.”

Theo walked around the bed and climbed into the empty space. He fit perfectly in the bed, like it was made to accompany him. 

You pushed him to lay down so you could rest your tired head on his chest. He lightly chuckled at your movement, and pulled you close to him. His arms wrapped around you as your fist held onto the fabric of his shirt. 

“I love you, (Y/N),” he mumbled. 

You smiled, closing your eyes. Right before sleep pulled you in, you responded, “I love you most, Theo.”

[jpbpxma]

hush;

content warnings/tags: nsfw, contains smut, exhibition kink, sex at a movie theatre, javier peña x f!reader.

"Stop it, there's people here," Javier whispers, voice stern and eyes serious as he looks at you. "Stop what? " You whisper back innocently while repeating the action, making him grab your wrist. A shaky breath escapes him when you cup your palm around his already semi hard cock. His reaction makes you more confident as you rub his erection over his jeans and Javier reacts right away, twitching under your palm and letting out a deep groan. Luckily there weren't many people out today to watch the reshowing of some random crime thriller movie.

"Baby, seriously, I don't want to get kicked out," Javier nearly grinds out, trying to keep his voice steady. You pout and mutter under your breath about how you were in the back of the theatre and nowhere near anyone else, anyways. Crossing your arms over your chest, you return your attention back to the movie refusing to further acknowledge Javier’s presence. You hear him chuckle, but turns back to concentrate on the movie. Eventually you find yourself getting sucked into the movie, as well, until you feel his hand, that was resting on your knee, move up slowly.

Still annoyed with his prior rejection, you ignore him with a huff. Despite this, when his hand moves up under your skirt so it's in between your upper thighs, you find yourself parting your legs involuntarily. "You are so cute, you know that? Part of why I can't resist you," Javier whispers lowly into your ear while nibbling on it. Tracing slowly along your slit over you panties and he lets out a quiet 'Oh? ' upon discovering your dampness. You hold yourself back from whining but your body betrays you when you buck your hips just to chase any amount of friction.

He turns his body completely towards you now, movie long forgotten, sliding his fingers over your clit. You tremble at the contact, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. "Please," you let out so quietly, he wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't inches away from your face. Without warning, Javier pushes two of his fingers into your pussy, stroking the velvet walls by curling his fingers. Your mouth hangs open, captured in a silent moan as he begins thrusting languidly inside.

You're so focused at the feeling of his fingers, with your head thrown back and your eyes closed, that your moans start to get louder without you realizing. Javier takes his fingers out completely, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. You open your eyes to protest when you see a few heads turned around looking at your direction to see what the disturbance is. Feeling your face warm up, you sink lower in your seat. Javier just looks over at you amused, "See, you have to be quiet, mi amor, otherwise this isn't going to work."

Once everyone's back focused on the movie, Javier turns to you and spreads your legs again but sinks three of his fingers inside this time. Luckily the actress starts screaming in fear loudly at the same time because you couldn't help but let out a long, drawn out moan. His pace is brutal as he slams his fingers repeatedly into your dripping pussy as you hope no one could hear the wet sounds it was making. He uses the upper part of his palm to press circles on your clit and with each passing second, your thighs shake harder in an effort to keep yourself upright.

"I'm gonna- fuck! " You mewl silently, grabbing onto his shirt as you come completely undone. The orgasm leaves you breathless, wave after wave threatening to knock you over while he prolongs the pleasure. Your mind is hazy with lust that makes it impossible to keep your eyes open. You're still trembling as Javier kisses you on the cheek, putting a piece of hair behind your ear. "Satisfied? " he murmurs, as he moves to wipe his fingers on a stray napkin but decides to just put his fingers in his mouth and suck them clean himself. "Not... yet," you reply, breathlessly - further turned on by his actions.

You get up slightly to slide over the arm rest and sit down on his lap, pressing your ass to grind against his now fully hard erection. Javier jerks forward with a sharp intake of breath but catches on right away; he lifts you up gently to take his cock out of the zipper of his jeans. "Oh, someone's eager now," you whisper smugly. "It's actually kind of hot," he whispers back, surprising himself. You pfft but continue to hover over his lap, holding onto the arm rests as he strokes his length a few times, angles the head on your entrance, pushing your panties to the side and pulling you down so you sink down onto his cock slowly.

You shudder, knees crossing together as he groans deeply behind you, "Fuuuck, you feel so fucking good." He's sweet enough to wait until you're well adjusted to not move but you're beyond turned on at this point, especially knowing you were doing something you weren't supposed to be doing. You moan mutedly as you fuck yourself onto his cock. Javier understood quickly and he started pounding himself up into you with increased tempo, his hips slapping against your ass. Thankfully, the movie was at its climax and loud enough to tune out the sinful sounds.

You're both so into it, you end up meeting halfway as you move down on his cock and he thrusts up into you. "Shit, ah- harder, Javi," you whimper, your moans getting loud again. He reaches his arms around you, one to clap over your mouth and one to grip one of your breasts, so he can hit deeper inside you. You're so out of it, lost in your own pleasure that you're barely moving now, Javier doing all the work as he easily bounces you up and down with the grip he has on you.

"Mmmh," your cry muffled as your body jolts when the head of his cock brushes against your g-spot. Javier knows you well enough by now to know when he's hit the right spot, he groans breathily as he increases his speed, deliberately angling his strokes to abuse the spot. It isn't long before you feel your body vibrating from an impending orgasm, the coil in your stomach tightening as your head begins to swim with pleasure. Javier’s hand that grips your breast snakes down to play with your clit, swiping in tandem with his thrusts.

You didn't have time to warn him when the second orgasm crashes over you, your loud moans muffled by his hand as you fall back into his chest, your eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted. The sensation of you clenching around him was enough to send him into his own orgasm with a last roll of his hips and he comes with a deep groan of your name, chest flush against your back, his hips stuttering to a complete stop. 

The movie continues to play, nearing the end of the climax. You're both breathing heavily, his arms around your waist as the back of your head lies on his shoulder. When you finally come down from your high, you fix your clothes and slide back to your own seat, not failing to notice the couple three rows down and in the corner smirking at the two of you. "Hey, at least we gave them a good show," Javier whispers to you with a wink.

[meatonfork]

hoiii, can you do a platonic team 141 x reader where s they’re the youngest/smallest one on the team yet they seem to be able to beat everyone on when sparring and everyone’s like wtf…

omg hello! i’ve never had a request, so this is new hehe

i’m not great at writing! i will try my absolute best to make this good. i struggle with adding personality to my characters without over explaining. so let’s see how this goes!

——————————————————————————

Bloody Hell

pairing: platonic 141 x gn!reader :)

*readers call sign is grim :)

warnings: none!

——————————————————————————

you’ve found that being the smallest and the youngest on the 141 had its cons. but, you’ve also found that it had its pros.

“uncle! i’m tap- i’m tapping! you can STOP-!” soap was writhing and sputtering beneath you.

you and the rest of the team were in the cafeteria, having just eaten lunch, when soap had decided today would be a great day to challenge you in sparring. seeing as none of the guys had seen you in action, they figured this would be easy for him. it was almost comical, seeing their smug smirks and eyes shining in hunger at seeing someone so small to absolutely demolish in combat.

he also wanted to show you, the newbie, your place. your stature was tiny compared to ghost. when stood next to him, you looked like an ant. squash-able and minuscule.

but, you had been chosen for the 141 by laswell herself. who was price to argue? your folder was mostly confidential. there wasn’t much to go on. but one thing price knew for sure was that you’re a force to be reckoned with. just because you were small didn’t mean you weren’t strong, and soap soon found that out.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea, sergeant.” your eyebrow had raised, and your voice was an eery calm. soap almost backed down. almost.

he probably should’ve.

“oh, c’mon. scared i’ll whoop yer ass, grim?” his face donned a cocky smirk, and you couldn’t resist.

poor guy.

with a sigh, you stood from your seat. the guys looked for any sign of hesitation, or nerves from you, but found none.

as the both of you moved to a clearer area, the others followed. gaz was mentally preparing to help you after you got your ass handed to you, and ghost honestly just wanted to see how this played out.

soap quickly got into position, feet spread shoulder length, one slightly in front of the other, and both hands brought up. you stood across from him, and cracked your neck before quickly getting into the same position.

“are you sure you’re ready, soap?” you wanted to make sure this was absolutely something he wanted. there was no going back after, and you wanted him to at least have a little dignity.

he laughed.

he was ready.

price stood to the side, yelling out a go ahead. he, himself, also a little curious to see how this played out.

soap immediately lunged to your right side. sidestepping, you drove an elbow into his back. he lost balance, but quickly regained it and spun towards you. his lip twitched a bit, and his eyes narrowed. maybe this wasn’t going to plan, but he was confident he would win this. he tried to kick your leg out from under you, but he was too cocky and you caught on, jumping up slightly.

soap heavily relied on brute strength, but you were quicker. he threw a punch, only for you to duck and charge at his midsection, throwing him to the mat beneath you.

he thrust his hips up and quickly flipped you, so he was on top and pinning you to the mat.

you smirked, “i’m likin’ the view serg.”

soaps eyes widened, and his grip slightly went slack. not much. but, enough for you to get a hand loose and land a punch to his cheek.

using the momentum of the punch to your advantage, you quickly rolled the opposite direction of him and onto your knees. soap got up quicker than expected, throwing a punch to your side, and next you knew, you were back on the ground. back in the same position you were just in.

a sigh left your lips, but your eyes were glistening in satisfaction seeing a bruise forming on his jaw. a mischievous smile slowly grew on your face. soap’s eyes narrowed once more.

“wha- FUCK” with a swift knee to the groin, soap toppled over. you pounced on top of your sergeant and quickly threw him into a headlock.

“oh fuck!” gaz’s voice rang from somewhere to the side.

soap’s whines and gasps were loud, and the smile only grew on your face. hair falling in your face moving in and out with your heavy breaths.

“uncle! i’m tap- i’m tapping! you can STOP-!” soap was writhing and sputtering beneath you.

you let go of the man below you, and stood. hands on your hips, heavy breath, and a satisfied smile.

johnny lied there a moment, trying to catch is breath. opening his eyes, he sees your hand. you haul him to his feet and pat his back.

“are you okay serg.? didn’t mean to hurt ya too badly.” your voice held amusement, but it was sincere.

“bloody hell, johnny. they got ya good” ghost sauntered over and crossed his arms. you look over to see his eyes scanning you, a flash of approval ran over his eyes. you weren’t quite sure, but you thought you saw a small tug at his mask near his mouth.

sick, he thought you did well.

gaz and price made their way over, small smiles on their faces.

“ah, whatever. lets go again.”

“what? are you sure?”

“yeah, let’s go.”

soap lost every time. he also always had an excuse.

there was something in his eye.

he lost his footing.

he heard a bird overhead and wanted to see it.

you beat him every time, but you also managed to take a few hits yourself.

ghost and gaz continued to stand at the sidelines, but price walked off a bit ago. shaking his head and muttering to himself about ‘soap’s gonna get fucked up’ or something like that.

——————————————————————————

a/n: thank you sm for reading! again, i don’t ever write so i hope this satisfied you! i’m working on getting better at characteristic and really getting the boys’ right. criticism is always loved and wanted <3

[wileys-russo]

hi!

could you do a fic with reader x aitana bonmati??

okay so maybe reader is swedish but is still shorter than aitana, frido finds it super funny and constantly teases r for it but aitana finds it cute

half sized II a.bonmati x reader

"bon dia! if it isn't my favourite little half swede." you looked up from your phone with a filthy glare toward your national team mate who gave you a toothy grin.

"i thought you were full swedish?"pina asked with a confused frown, whining as you rolled your eyes and lightly smacked her forehead. "i am fully swedish, frodo just thinks she is a comedian." you scowled up at the older girl who flipped you off for the nickname.

"she is a half swede because she is half sized." frido explained happily and you exhaled deeply at the laughter than rang out throughout the locker room. "do you like having two unbroken legs frodo? keep going." you warned seriously, pulling on your boots.

"at least my legs are fully grown lillis. did you not eat enough vegetables as a kid? not drink enough milk?" frido continued to coo, moving closer to grab your cheeks and pinch them, shaking your head to and fro as you kicked at her and yanked them off.

"lillis?" keira questioned with a raise of her eyebrows. "it means little one, because she is so little!" frido mocked, darting out of the way as you swung at her and unloaded a string of swedish curses in her direction.

"such a filthy mouth for such a small body." frido whistled with a smirk, standing to go after her before hands fell to your shoulders and pushed you back down onto the bench.

"hey, do not listen to her amor." you settled at the familiar voice, your girlfriends presence soothing your anger instantly. "it is every day now, it was worse at camp!" you huffed quietly, head falling to her shoulder as her body vibrated with gentle laughter.

"ignore it hermosa. actions speak louder than words, shut them all up on the pitch." aitana pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. "i love you." you mumbled, stealing a quick kiss from the slightly taller girl.

"you should ask your girlfriend for a piggyback lillis, longer legs mean you get places a lot faster." frido continued to tease as you all made your way out of the locker room, doing your best to ignore her as aitana tried to busy you in your own conversation.

"tana will you be renovating your apartment?" your girlfriend turned and gave frido an odd look at the question. "and why would she do that?" you sighed, the older girl more like your sister than your teammate having taken you under her watchful eye both for country and now club, and you both treated one another as such.

"well how are you going to reach everything if you move in lillis? her kitchen is sized for normal people, not dwarfs." "mi amor don't-"

but you didn't listen to the catalans warnings, turning and charging at the taller girl with a war cry, tackling her to the ground as the two of you rolled around on the grass. "the height thing again?" aitana looked up as mapi stood next to her with an amused grin, ingrid rushing over to try and seperate you and frido.

"it is always at its worst once they get back from camp together!" aitana rolled her eyes, mariona holding you back as ingrid tried to reason with frido about the teasing and laying off you a little.

"si frido you need to be more respectful-" your girlfriends arm draped over your shoulder as you moved away from mariona and more into her side. "-after all she has half a temper." you looked up at her in shock as frido doubled over with laughter.

with a huff you shoved her off of you, storming away into the gym and ignoring her calls after you, most of which were drowned out by frido's obnoxiously loud barks of laughter.

you battered off the girls attempts to speak to you all morning, shrugging off her hugs with a glare and a scoff, blocking your ears to her sweet words and busying yourself in the company of your other teammates.

"why are you ignoring tana chica?" alexia chuckled as the two of you paired up for the final drill of the session. "she joined in teasing about my height." you huffed with a roll of your eyes. "i see." the captain hummed with an amused smile as you glanced at her.

"ale! don't." you warned seriously, knowing a teasing remark was likely on the tip of her tongue. "i did not say anything! so sensitive." the older girl tutted as you continued, grateful that the focus needed to be on the ball as you went through with the drill.

finally the coaching staff called time as everyone moved to the coolers for some water. "hey look, they have ones your size lillis!" frido teased, handing you her half drunk water bottle as you scowled. "frido." ingrid warned, sending her a look which the woman dismissed.

"hey frodo, think you should cool off!" you grinned, opening another water and dumping it over her head, the girl squealing in shock. now she was the one to let out a war cry and lunge for you though you'd already taken off, sprinting away and toward the locker room with her on your heels.

though before you could quite get away you felt hands grab at your training top, yelping as you were tugged into another room. you felt a hand now settle over your mouth and frido's angry footsteps go racing past before it was removed.

"hola amor!" you rolled your eyes at your girlfriends grin, the two of you jammed together in what appeared to be a janitors closet. "are you done being mad now?" aitana teased, her body pressing into yours as her hands fell to squeeze your hips.

"are you done making fun of me now?" you countered, crossing your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow only making her smile grow wider. "i was not making fun of you hermosa. i think it is very cute that you are shorter than me, come on amor you know i love you." the girl promised, pushing herself more into you.

"lo siento bebita, lo siento." your eyes fluttered closed as her nose tucked into your collarbone and her lips peppered gentle kisses. "tana-" you started but she shushed you, massaging your hips in her hands as you melted, the girl knowing exactly where to kiss and touch you to have you be putty in her hands.

"i think we should head home amor, let me really show you how sorry i am for my teasing."

[gremlins-hotel]

From the notes of Capt. Alfred Jones: "Davie was a bus and the 'Flying Fortress' moniker seemed to pass her by, but it was a ship with a brave crew. The trudge of getting back to England from enemy territory is a story for another day. I miss her and sometimes I miss the boys we lost that day."

-✪- -✪- -✪-

B-17F "Dear Davie": *U.S. Army Model B-17F-65-BO Air Corps Serial No. 42-29670 Delivered Cheyenne 31/1/43; Pueblo 18/2/43; Salina 15/2/43; Brookley 19/3/43; Smoky Hill 23/3/43; Dow Field 18/4/43. Assigned to the 333rd Bomb Squadron/94th Bomb Group [TS-L] "DEAR DAVIE" 22/4/43; Missing in Action near Hamburg 25/7/43 with Alfred "Comet" Jones, **Co-Pilot: Daryl "Speed" Reed, Navigator: Richard Reed, Bombardier: Charlie Marstaller; Radio Operator: Johnathan Graves, Flight Engineer/Top Turret Gunner: Clyde "Pepsi" Ray, Ball Turret Gunner: William Ortlieb, Waist Gunner: Leslie Lipsey, Waist Gunner: Paul Rapoport, Tail Gunner: Thomas Pugh (6 Killed in Action); "DEAR DAVIE" lost to flak/anti-aircraft fire, crashing near Uetersen, 15 miles NW of Hamburg, Germany.

-✪- -✪- -✪-

[nerd things & acknowledgements below cut]

Notes on the B-17F... The B-17F was an upgrade of the previous E model, with several notable changes: A one- or two-piece plexiglas nose cone, as opposed to the ten-paneled cone of previous versions. Reinforced landing gear allowed for a greater maximum payload, from 4,200 lb (1,900 kg) of ordnance to 8,000 lb (3,600 kg). Flight and combat range of the F model was improved by 900 mi (1,400 km) with the addition of nine self-sealing rubber fuel cells in the wing root, aka, "Tokyo tanks". The F model was generally characterized by being tail-heavy - which lead to part failure - and woefully undefended from the front; the early F models had no front-facing armament, leaving a 60° blind spot to the direct front of the aircraft - a flaw which was exploited by German pilots, who held air superiority. Later F models would see a list of possible available modifications (factory and field) such as inserting two .50 caliber machine guns into the nose cone to solve the blind spot. Other modifications to later F models were bulged cheek turrets, as opposed to the window-mounted guns of earlier iterations, and the available addition of the iconic "Bendix" chin turret. The chin turret is far more common on the subsequent G "gunship" variant. ("Dear Davie" is an early F model without the nose mount, bulged cheeks, or chin turret.)

*This model production block, serial no., and fate are borrowed from real-life B-17F #42-29670, "Thundermug." "Thundermug" was an aircraft that originally served in the 333rd Bomb Squadron/94th Bomb Group alongside my great-grandfather and his usual steed, "The Gremlins Hotel." It was transferred to the 544th BS/384th BG, at which point it went Missing in Action over Hamburg from flak/aa-fire; 8 of its crew became POWs while 2 were KIA. I have had the honor to speak to descendants of both of its crews and help them research "Thundermug"; I wish to voice a mere glimpse of their stories in a unique way.

**All names of Alfred's crew are either cobbled-together family names throughout our history here or entirely fictitious - though some were inspired by real people whom I grew up with stories of. All inspirations were individuals that lived good lives post-war.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Happy Birthday

pairing: javier pena x f! wife reader

summary: with all the birthday celebrations, javier shows her how much she truly means to their family.

PSA: in honor of today being my birthday, you just know i had to write a special story.

Javier Peña woke up early, quietly slipping out of bed to avoid waking his wife, Y/N. Their newborn son, Mateo, was already stirring in his crib, so Javier picked him up, whispering soft words to calm him. Down the hall, their three daughters Sophia, Maria, and Elena were already awake and bustling with excitement. It was Y/N’s birthday, and they had big plans.

“Shh, girls. We have to be quiet,” Javier reminded them with a smile.

The girls nodded eagerly, trying their best to stifle their giggles. Sophia, the oldest at ten, took charge of the kitchen, directing her sisters in making breakfast. Maria, eight, carefully measured out ingredients for pancakes, while Elena, five, watched the stove with intense concentration. Javier juggled Mateo on his hip, helping where he could and ensuring the chaos remained somewhat controlled.

“Sophia, remember to flip the pancakes when they start to bubble,” Javier instructed, his voice gentle but firm.

“Got it, Papá,” Sophia replied, her face scrunched up in concentration as she carefully poured batter onto the griddle.

Maria meticulously arranged the bacon on a baking sheet, making sure each strip was perfectly spaced. “Do you think mamá will like this?” she asked, her voice tinged with a bit of anxiety.

“She’ll love it, sweetheart. She’ll love everything,” Javier reassured her, kissing the top of her head.

Elena, standing on her tiptoes, tried to scramble the eggs with a big wooden spoon. “Papá, can you help me? My arms are too little,” she said with a pout.

“Of course, mi amor,” Javier said, chuckling as he set Mateo down in his bouncer. He stood behind Elena, guiding her hands as they stirred the eggs together. “You’re doing a great job.”

An hour later, with a tray laden with pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and freshly squeezed orange juice, they tiptoed back into the bedroom. Y/N stirred as they entered, her eyes fluttering open to see her entire family gathered around the bed, grinning widely.

“Happy birthday, mamá!” they chorused.

Y/N’s face lit up with joy as she sat up, taking Mateo from Javier’s arms. “Thank you, my loves. This is perfect.”

Sophia carefully placed the tray on her lap, beaming with pride. “We made it all ourselves, mamá! Well, Papá helped a little.”

Y/N laughed softly, her eyes sparkling. “It’s wonderful. You all did such a great job.”

They spent a leisurely morning together, enjoying the breakfast and each other’s company. The girls shared their plans for the day with bubbling excitement, their voices overlapping as they each tried to outdo the other in enthusiasm. Afterward, Y/N had a few errands to run, so Javier saw her off with a kiss and a promise that they’d make her day special.

As soon as she left, Javier rallied the kids. “Alright, team. We’ve got a lot to do!”

They sprang into action, decorating the house with streamers, balloons, and handmade birthday banners. Sophia and Maria took charge of the decorations, climbing onto chairs to hang up the colorful streamers and carefully placing balloons around the living room. Elena was in charge of handing out the decorations, her tiny hands busy as she delivered supplies to her older sisters.

“More balloons over here, Maria!” Sophia called out, pointing to a corner of the room.

“Got it!” Maria replied, rushing over with a handful of balloons.

Javier supervised the activity, making sure everything went smoothly. He glanced at Mateo, who was happily kicking his legs in his bouncer, cooing at the flurry of activity around him.

“You’re being such a good boy, Mateo,” Javier said, bending down to kiss his son’s forehead.

In the afternoon, Chucho arrived, bringing his warmth and laughter. He hugged each of his grandchildren, lifting Elena up into the air and making her squeal with delight. Y/N’s parents followed shortly after, their arms full of presents and their hearts full of love. Together, they set up the dining room, transforming it into a festive celebration space.

By the time Y/N returned, the house was a burst of color and joy. Her eyes widened in surprise as she stepped inside. “Oh my goodness, this is incredible!”

Javier greeted her with a warm embrace. “We wanted to make sure your day was as special as you are.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. “You all did this for me? It’s beautiful.”

Dinner was a labor of love, with Javier at the helm. He prepared her favorite dishes, the aromas of roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and fresh vegetables filling the house. The family gathered around the table, sharing stories and laughter. The kids were bubbling with excitement, barely able to contain their secret.

“Papá, can we tell her now?” Sophia whispered, bouncing in her seat.

“Not yet, mija. After dinner,” Javier replied, a twinkle in his eye.

Finally, after the meal and a delicious slice of cake, it was time for gifts. Chucho and Y/N’s parents presented her with thoughtful presents, each one met with heartfelt thanks and hugs. Then, it was Javier and the kids’ turn.

Sophia, Maria, Elena, and Mateo all gathered around, holding a large, wrapped package. Javier guided it to Y/N, who looked at them with curiosity.

“Open it, mamá,” Sophia urged.

Y/N carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing a stunning painting. It was a family portrait, beautifully detailed and capturing a moment of pure happiness. Javier had worked with a local artist for months to get it just right.

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she looked at the painting, then at her family. “This is… this is the most beautiful gift. Thank you all so much.”

Javier pulled her into a tight hug, his voice soft with emotion. “We wanted you to have something that shows how much we love you, and how grateful we are for everything you do.”

The kids joined the hug, wrapping their small arms around their parents. Y/N’s tears were ones of joy and overwhelming love, feeling blessed beyond measure.

That night, after tucking the kids into bed and saying goodnight to their guests, Javier and Y/N retreated to their bedroom. Javier locked the door behind them, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at his wife.

“You made today so special,” Y/N said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

Javier’s hands slid down to her waist, pulling her close. “You deserve it, mi amor. And I want to make tonight special too.”

He leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Y/N responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him. Javier’s hands roamed over her body, caressing her curves and making her shiver with anticipation.

With a gentle push, he guided her back against the bedroom door, his lips trailing down her neck. Y/N gasped as he nipped at her sensitive skin, her body arching into his touch.

“Javi,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He dropped to his knees before her, his hands sliding up her thighs as he pushed up her dress. Y/N’s breath hitched as he kissed his way along her inner thighs, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine.

“Javi, please,” she whispered, her fingers gripping the door behind her for support.

Javier looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and lust. “Anything for you, mi amor.”

He buried his face between her legs, his tongue finding her most sensitive spot through the thin fabric of her underwear. The sheer fabric clung to her wetness, enhancing every flick and caress of his tongue. Y/N’s legs trembled, her back pressing harder against the door as she tried to steady herself.

The sensation was exquisite, the friction of the fabric against her swollen clit driving her wild. Javier’s tongue moved with deliberate slowness, tracing circles and flicks that had Y/N’s breath coming in ragged gasps. He wrapped his hands around her thighs, holding her steady as he intensified his movements, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Javi, oh God,” Y/N moaned, her hands sliding into his hair, holding him close.

Her hips began to move, seeking more of the delicious pressure. Javier responded by pressing his tongue harder against her, his hands gripping her hips to guide her rhythm. The combination of his expert touch and the added sensation of the fabric was driving her closer and closer to the edge.

“Please, Papi, don’t stop,” she begged, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Javier’s response was a deep, guttural groan that vibrated through her core. He could feel her getting closer, her body trembling with the building intensity. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster, more insistent, until he felt her body tense, the telltale signs of her impending climax.

With a final, expertly placed flick of his tongue, Y/N shattered. Her orgasm crashed over her in waves, her cries of pleasure echoing in the room. Javier held her through it, his tongue still teasing her through the fabric as she rode out the aftershocks.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found Javier standing before her, his eyes dark with desire. He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed and laying her down gently.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too, baby ,” she replied, her eyes shining with love.

He joined her on the bed, their bodies entwined as they made sweet, passionate love. Javier’s touch was tender, his hands exploring every inch of her skin as if memorizing her all over again. He kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing together, creating a symphony of desire and love.

Javier’s hands roamed down her body, slipping under the hem of her dress to slide it off her. She shivered at the sensation of his calloused fingers against her soft skin, her breath hitching in anticipation. He paused to admire her, his eyes drinking in her beauty.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Y/N blushed, her heart swelling with love. “I’m yours, Javi. Always.”

He kissed her again, more urgently this time, his desire for her palpable. She felt his hardness pressing against her thigh, and a surge of heat pooled in her core. She reached down, tugging at his shirt, eager to feel his skin against hers. Javier quickly obliged, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside.

Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, the heat between them rising. Javier’s hands slid down to her hips, pulling her underwear down and discarding them. He moved to position himself over her, his erection pressing insistently against her entrance.

“Are you ready, mi amor?” he whispered, his voice strained with need.

“Yes, Javi. I need you,” she replied, her voice trembling with anticipation.

With a slow, steady push, Javier entered her, filling her completely. They both moaned at the sensation, the connection between them electric. Javier began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, savoring every moment.

“Javi,” Y/N moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

He responded by increasing his pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. Y/N’s breath came in short gasps, her body arching to meet his every movement. The pleasure was overwhelming, building with each thrust.

“Javi, please,” she begged, her voice breaking with need. “I need more.”

Javier’s eyes darkened with desire. He shifted his angle slightly, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder. Y/N cried out in pleasure, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him.

“Yes, Papi, just like that,” she gasped, her body trembling with the intensity of their lovemaking.

Javier leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as he pounded into her with a relentless rhythm. She felt her climax building again, the pressure mounting with every thrust. Her moans grew louder, her body shaking with the intensity of her impending release.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Javier urged, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you cum around me.”

His words sent her over the edge. She cried out his name, her body convulsing as her orgasm ripped through her. Javier groaned, feeling her tighten around him, pushing him closer to his own release.

“Javi, please, give me another baby,” she begged, her voice raw with desire. “I want you to cum in me.”

Javier’s eyes widened with a mixture of shock and desire. Her words pushed him over the edge, and with a final, powerful thrust, he came, spilling himself deep inside her. His hand came up to cover her mouth as she screamed his name, his voice a low growl. “Quiet, mi amor. The kids are sleeping.”

She nodded, her eyes glazed with pleasure as she bit her lip, trying to stifle her cries. Javier kissed her deeply, their bodies still joined as they rode out the aftershocks of their intense lovemaking.

When they finally stilled, Javier rolled to the side, pulling her close. Their bodies were slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” Javier whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too, Javi,” she replied, her heart swelling with love and contentment.

They lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring the quiet moments of intimacy. This truly was the best birthday ever.

[courtforshort15]

A Matter of Opinion

Pairing: Matt Murdock x femReader

Word Count: 2,800

Summary: A tale of disagreements, egging each other on, and a general disregard of the other’s opinion.

Trigger warning: So much fluff it might as well be cotton candy

Masterlist

“So what you’re saying is…you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

From across the room, Foggy snorts.

The gloating smirk falls from Matt’s face, quickly replaced by a look of confusion. “What? That’s not at all–”

“That’s what you literally just said to my face.”

Matt scoffs, waving his hand in dismissive action. “I definitely didn’t say anything of the sort.”

“You told me you don’t trust my opinion, Matt,” you say with narrowed eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You stare him down, knowing that while he can’t see it, he can certainly feel it. With a mild look of alarm crossing his face, Matt leans back on his left foot as if the force of your stare actually unsettles his balance. 

He clears his throat. “Well, not when it comes to–”

“Ah ah ah,” you cut him off before he finishes his sentence. He rolls his shoulders, standing up straight, files of case notes at his fingertips from where he stands next to the table. Matt tilts his head, still looking incredibly confused. It takes everything in you to not walk out of the room and leave him to sweat it out. “You either trust it or you don’t.”

“Come on, you know that’s not at all how I meant it.”

“How are we jumping from not trusting you to not wanting to be with you?” he asks as his face shifts to one that’s a mix of incredulity and slight anxiety, voice growing steadily louder. He takes a small step forward, frowning when you take a step backwards.

“And if you don’t trust my opinion, then how can you trust me?”

“So you admit that you don’t trust me.”

“I didn’t say-”

“And if you don’t trust me, then why would you want to be with me?”

Matt groans and tosses his head back in a gesture of God help me. “Sweetheart–”

“Foggy,” you call to the other man in the room, not bothering to shift your head in his direction, eyes still locked on Matt’s tense form in front of you as you ignore the pet name. “Did you or did you not just hear Matthew say he doesn’t trust my opinion?”

Foggy snorts again, the sound of rustling paper sliding throughout the office as he picks up his folder. He doesn’t bother looking up as he shakes his head in amusement. “Nope. Not getting in the middle of this.”

“Come on, Foggy,” Matt says, his tone bordering on exasperation. “You gonna let her tear me down this like this?”

“Not getting in the middle of it,” Foggy repeats with a wide grin that suggests he’s enjoying watching Matt be put on the spot. Foggy moves into your field of vision as he noisily slaps a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I love you, but she scares me. I’m playing Switzerland on this one.”

“I’ll get in the middle of it,” Karen cheerfully chirps from the conference room table as she picks up her own laptop and begins gathering her stuff to take back to her office. “I’m siding with your girlfriend on this one, Matt. You threw yourself under your own damn bus when you told her that you had better taste than her.”

Matt groans loudly as you send a bright smile her way, catching her wink and flashing one of your own. “Thanks, Karen. Your tab is on me tonight.”

“I did not say that,” Matt says as he runs an agitated hand through his dark hair. You bite your bottom lip in amusement, always secretly pleased at the way you’re able to rile him up, well aware that he’ll get you back at some point this evening. “You all know that I–”

You interrupt him with a smirk. “You said, and I quote, “Why would we go to that awful pizza place she likes when I have a much better option for us? You know I have a better sense of taste.””

One masculine and one feminine set of laughter match each other from the other side of the table, further fueled by the pained look on Matt’s face as his words are shot back at him. Karen and Foggy are helpless to stop the giggles at their friend’s misfortune. He flounders for a second as he flushes, and you briefly consider taking it easy on him.

“I didn’t mean it to sound that way,” Matt tells you, his tongue sliding out as he ran it over his lips, the telltale sign of anxiety. “I just thought that we should go to the restaurant off of 37th. I’ve walked by it quite a bit since it opened and it smells amazing. So much better than–”

All sympathy for the devil leeches out of you with a snap. “I dare you to finish that statement.”

“I’ve been to where she’s talking about, Matt,” Karen pipes back in. She finishes picking her stuff up from the table, curled blond hair sliding over her shoulders as she flashes a smile your way. “It’s pretty good.”

“No offense, Karen,” Matt says with a shake of his head, red lenses glinting from the office light, “but you’re not from New York, so you don’t know what good pizza is.”

Karen raises a perfectly arched eyebrow and you can’t help the cackle of glee that escapes your lips as Matt digs himself further into a hole. “You really want to go there, Matt? I think you’re sadly lacking in allies right now.”

“You chose her side, Karen. We’re not allies right now anyway.”

“Maybe not,” she says with a happy shrug of her shoulders, lips splitting her pretty face open in laughter. Her blue eyes glint in a sense of amusement that barely hides her sharp ability to tear a man down a few pegs. It’s one of your favorite things about her. She crosses the room with her laptop tucked in one arm, folders in the other hand. “But it doesn’t mean we’re enemies. Just take back what you said about her opinion on pizza places sucking.”

“She’s from Chicago!” Matt growls in frustration. “Of course it does.”

You throw your head back with a loud laugh, enjoying the look of your flustered boyfriend, finding the conversation too funny to even be offended. “New York doesn’t own the market on good pizza, Matthew. Why can’t you just–”

“There’s just something about Chicago pizza that isn’t right,” he cuts you off with a look that suggests aggravation. He shakes his head emphatically, hands on his hips. “The ingredients are wrong, the spices and sauces just don’t match together all that well. It’s a travesty.”

“You act like you know all there is to know about food and what things go together and what don’t.”

“I do!” Matt cries out as he suddenly throws his hands in the air. “I literally do. And even without my senses I’d know that nothing beats New York pizza.”

“So arrogant,” Karen quips. “Can’t bring yourself to admit that others simply have different tastes than you.”

“Karen, you eat your pizza with ranch. You really have no room to talk.”

“Pizza with ranch isn’t bad,” you throw in, sending Karen a wink as you shrug your shoulders in a display of casual nonchalance. “I’ve been known to enjoy it a time or two.”

Matt turns to the other man in the room, one hand gesturing towards his friend in frustration of being all but ganged up on. You can’t help but snort at the motion that seems entirely too desperate for the situation. “Foggy, back me up here.”

Foggy laughs loudly. It’s the kind of laugh that offers no pity or effort to console, just a laugh that tells the room that Matt is on his own. “No can do, my dear friend. I am an equal opportunist when it comes to pizza. A pizza connoisseur, if you will.”

“You all are crazy.”

“Says the man who only eats ice cream if it’s plain vanilla,” you say as you raise your eyebrows, watching the man. His mouth drops in a sharp sense of betrayal, as if you were giving away a private secret that no one else in the room is privy to, though you know both Foggy and Karen are completely aware of his extremely picky eating. 

“I eat sorbets, too,” he says defensively, hands back on his hips. From behind red lenses, you see his eyes narrow.

“Sorbet is not ice cream.”

Matt tilts his chin up. “It is a sweet and tasty treat that you put in a freezer and later eat with a spoon. It counts.”

“Ice cream is dairy based. Sorbet is fruit based. Big difference.”

“I’d hardly–”

“You’re so lucky you’re pretty, Matt,” you coo suddenly, taking a few steps in his direction and reaching up to touch his heated cheeks with the back of your fingers. “You had a late night last night, didn’t come to bed until three. I can tell you’re tired and not thinking straight. Maybe we should go home instead of going to dinner so my beautiful Matty can take a nap.”

“Isn’t this a form of gaslighting?” Foggy whispers to Karen in the background.

Matt gently pushes you away with a growl of annoyance even as his lips twist up in the beginning form of a smirk. “I’m fine. It’s not my fault your pizza sucks.”

“That’s super rude of you, Matthew. I hope you’re prepared to sleep on the couch tonight.”

The smirk falls. “Sweetheart–”

“You two fight like an old married couple,” Foggy interjects from the other side of the room, finally on his way out of the conference space, mouth tilted in a grin that doesn’t bother hiding her extreme amusement. “Just propose already.”

You flush, eyes wide as you give Foggy and Karen a look that’s both panicked and pointed. “We haven’t even talked about marriage yet–”

“Shut up, Foggy,” Matt hisses as you’re talking, a severe frown aimed at his friend. “You know the ring is still being sized, so I’m not–”

Your mouth clamps shut as his words hit you, effectively cutting off the rest of your response to Foggy and Karen, and Matt immediately freezes when he realizes what he’s said. The energy in the room abruptly shifts, silence sharply cutting through the laughter and teasing argument. You don’t turn to him just yet, instead letting your round eyes take in the hand that Karen had slapped over her mouth and the pale face of Foggy who clearly hadn’t expected Matt to respond the way he did. Between Karen’s shocked face and Foggy’s look of guilt, it’s enough to cause you to swallow sharply, goosebumps lighting up and down your skin.

Matt clears his throat softly, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice how tense his form has gone, his white dress shirt straining slightly at his shoulders as he holds himself stiffly. “Can you—can you give us some privacy?”

Foggy and Karen leave with jerky nods of their heads and exit the conference room without a word, though they both take multiple glances back. When they’re gone, you finally manage to turn your face back towards Matt’s, taking in the flushed skin and eyes that have suddenly lost their glasses. He doesn’t speak, though he opens his mouth and closes it a few times as if he has something to say but doesn’t know how to say it. 

The silence is almost nerve-wracking, so you put an end to it.

“So…” you trail off, raising your eyebrows as you study him fondly, eyeing the way his hand twitches at his side, glasses held in a tight grip. “There’s a ring?”

Matt nods his head slowly, tongue poking out to run slighty over his bottom lip. His eyes flutter closed for a quick moment before he takes a deep breath and snaps them back open.  “Yes. There’s a ring.”

A wide smile blooms across your face, and you’re unable to reign in the joy that pulses through you. “Is there…a specific question that’ll go with that ring?” you ask as your hand reaches out to finger one of the buttons on his collared shirt, your tone teasing. The action is instinctive, one you often use to catch Matt’s attention and encourage to step forward closer, and it receives the same response as always. Matt’s lips shift into a soft smile, the one he so often gives you in these quieter, more intimate moments, and all at once, the nerves fall away.

“Of course there’s a question,” he responds with a brief nod of his head, the apprehension in his eyes shifting to something warm in his blank gaze. “Is there an answer that you might have?”

You tilt your head in consideration and pretend to ponder the question. Matt’s eyes blindly trail over your face, a barely noticeable hitch in his breath betraying a mind that, despite the small grin lighting up his face, is on edge in anticipation.  “Yes.”

Matt raises an eyebrow at your one-word answer. “Yes, as in there’s an answer? Or yes, as in…you’re saying yes?”

“What do you think it is?”

He tosses his head back with a groan. “Sweetheart, don’t play with me. What are you–”

“Y–”

“If I might interrupt for just a moment,” Foggy’s voice calls out from his office, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just cut off your answer to Matt’s question, leaving the two of you standing close to each other with Matt growling in annoyance under his breath even as your lips curve into an amused smile. “As best man, I’d like to offer the suggestion that pizza not be served at your wedding. And–”

The conference room door is quickly slammed shut in a brief flash of long blond hair as Karen opens her mouth to yell at the other man. “Shut the hell up, Foggy, before I cut your tongue off and make you mime your opening argument to the jury.”

Foggy makes a startled choking noise of horror before he manages to squeak out, “yes, ma’am.”

When Matt’s satisfied there will be no more interruptions, his head turns back towards yours from where he had been glaring daggers in Foggy’s general direction. A small smile tilts the corner of his mouth up as his body relaxes, no doubt having heard your mouth open with a yes before Foggy rudely had cut off the full word.

“You were saying?” he asks as he steps further into you and presses the heat of his body into yours until all you can feel is warmth.

You send him a teasing grin before it changes abruptly into a false frown. “You know, I actually just lost my train of thought,” you say in mock sadness. “What were we–”

“Holy mother of God,” he mutters under his breath. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“If you’re referring to our pizza argument, you’ll recall that I never dissed New York pizza the way you dissed Chicago pizza. You’re the one who—”

“Shut up,” he huffs in barely restrained amusement, reaching out to settle his hands on your shoulders in a failed attempt to change the tone of the conversation. Eventually he just gives in, eyes lighting up as he shakes his head. “I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”

“Technically, you haven’t actually asked any–”

“Marry me.”

“Honey, that’s still not a question. That’s a demand.”

Matt’s hands pull your face to his, angling your head up so that he can press his lips to yours as swiftly as possible before pulling away just as quickly. “Will.” Another kiss. “You.” A nip to your bottom lip. “Marry.” An open mouthed kiss as you giggle against his lips. “Me?”

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out, Matt’s matching grin the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as he pulls away. It’s a question you don’t even have to consider the answer to, but that doesn’t mean you won’t tease him for it. “Of course I will, but–”

Dark eyes widen drastically. “There’s a but?”

“Hush, Matthew. You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

Matt gives you a frown that is far too exaggerated to be actually offended. “I can’t believe your answer to my marriage proposal was yes, but.”

You roll your eyes fondly as you reach out to tap his cheek in soothing matter that feels more like a teasing gesture. “Yes, I will marry you, but on one condition.”

He openly gapes for a second before he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Name it.”

“We ditch these losers and have our own naked pizza party at home.”

“I am NOT a loser!”

“Yes you are, Foggy.”

The smile on Matt’s face is nothing short of blinding, even as the other two object in the background. “I happily agree to these terms, but from the place I suggested.”

“You’re prepared to die on that hill, aren’t you?”

He laughs, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours. “You gave your condition, I gave mine.”

“You drive a steep bargain, Counselor, but I accept.”

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [2/…]

- OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"Do-mi-ti, why not me? Why not me?"

— Mitski, "Washing Machine Heart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstance.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past, hot tension, resentment and love, flashbacks, Reader is strong AF

A/N: Buggy's behavior in this chapter kinda gives off Yandere-vibes, but he's not. He's just really desperate, and a general asshole, (and lonely).

He's dead.

Gol D. Roger, captain of the Roger pirates, your captain, is dead. Pierced through the back by the Marines like a pig for slaughter, a death unworthy for someone of his rank. He deserved to live a long life, drunk on rum, surrounded by his friends and crewmates, before being finally laid to rest in a casket and shipped off with the waves as per tradition.

As chaos ensues and all hell breaks loose, his corpse remains on the same stand where he met his end, left to roast in the warm sun. At the very least, he did not leave this world without flipping one last bird at the Marines.

His final words leave such a domino effect upon the witnesses, one that will last for years to come. Sailors, pirates, men, women, and children all head toward the vast oceans in a hurry, ships pushing off the docks at record speed as they prepare to hunt for his legacy. To claim his title for their own. A title he earned and subsequently put up for auction.

The Marines were hoping that his death would mean the end of Piracy, but as though fate itself had something else to say about it, it had the exact opposite effect.

You're not moving with the swarm of people. The race goes on, but you do not. 

You're still standing in the same spot as you were when you watched the officers drive their spears through your captain's back, having ceased to function as you saw the man who practically raised you, succumb to the same fate that claims all in the end.

Even as people are pushing their way past you, shoving you in God-knows how many directions on their way to the oceans, you can't find it in you to move on your own accord. 

The world has gone deafly quiet now, everyone else is gone, and you're its sole occupant now. Despite the unrest going around, and the wind that brushes against your neck, Roger's last words echo in your ears like the whispers of a ghost.

"Wealth. Fame. Power. I found everything this world has to offer. Free yourselves! Take to the seas! My treasure is yours to find!"

Someone - whether accidentally or not - thrusts against your stomach, and you take a tumble to the ground. The world finally perforates your consciousness, yet it leaves you exposed to its chaos. You attempt to stand up, but the ongoing movements from all around halt your efforts. 

You raise your arms to shield your face from further damage, suffering several pairs of feet and a handful of scratches from the crowd. Nothing too bad, but you don't dare to try and get up just yet. Your initial plan is to just stay put until the storm is over.

That is, until you hear a voice calling your name from somewhere in the crowd, muffled by the ruckus, but still audible for you to make out among the many others.

"COME ON! HURRY!"

You're hastily pulled up to your feet and collide face-first into a chest. Looking up, you only manage to register Buggy's hand tightly clenched around yours in a near-painful hold as he pushes you both through the ongoing crowd. 

While trying to navigate through the masses, you raise your head to gaze at his face.

Not unlike your own, his eyes are stained with tears.

------

Nothing is in its correct shape when you blink your eyes open. For starters, the room is spinning at an incredible speed, and for seconds, there is twice of everything. Two coats are hanging on the rack just on the edge of your vision, the same color and length and everything. You discover you have two pairs of hands and feet as you sit up, and at least over a dozen iron bars are separating you from the rest of the room.

In a minute or two, your sight establishes yourself. The world has become one again, but to your chagrin, you discover that the number of bars caging you remains the same. 

Shaking off the dizziness and nausea that accompanies your waking, you get up to your knees and discover that, once again, you're fucking trapped. This time, it's in a metal cage hanging off the floor by a hook and chain, swinging you lightly back and forth with each fraction of movement you commit yourself to. 

Exhausted from simply waking up, you clash your forehead against the bars. "Shit."

"Well, good to know that your colorful vocabulary remains the same."

You snap your eyes up to see Buggy striding into the room, and your gaze immediately narrows.

"And your eyes." His right hand dislodges itself from his wrist and hovers over to you with an outstretched finger, where it lands right in the space between your eyes. "Sharp as ever, if not even sharper. Careful, you could kill someone with those."

"Wishful thinking," you murmur indignantly and raise your hand to wave off the offending appendage. Like a fly will with sugar, it merely withdraws for a few inches before returning to the same spot. 

You elect to ignore it as best as you can.

He feigns a horrified gasp at your words and clutches his chest with his remaining hand. "Such harsh words! I thought we were friends, you and I. I mean, what kind of friend would threaten the other with their life so cruelly?"

Friends? That's rich coming from him. You haven't considered him as such since the day he left. You won't even dignify that with a response, and so you merely turn your head to the side and rest your cheek against the bars.

His voice lowers a few octaves, enough for you to differentiate between the real him and the act he puts on for a performance. "Then again, what kind of 'friend' leaves the other behind?" His footsteps come closer, each one weighing heavier than the last. "What kind of 'friend' abandons the other?" 

Your eye twitches, but you still refuse to look at him, much less speak to him.

"What?" the Showman farce has by now ended and been buried as he takes one last step forward. "Nothing to say? I'd thought that after twenty years, you'd be happy to see this handsome face."

As much as you want to admit that, yes, the years have done wonders on his face and he most definitely would've been categorized as 'handsome' in your dictionary, you don't. 

"What do you want me to say?" You tilt your head marginally to the side so that merely one eye is aimed at him. "That it's good to see you? That I've missed you?" Even though both of those statements are true to some extent, he doesn’t need to know that.

"Well, I could go for all of the above if you insist on being cordial, but for starters, an apology might suffice enough on its own." If you weren't already looking at him, you'd think that he’s joking. He isn't. He’s as serious as a heart attack, and he’s not smiling this time. All you can think at the moment is that it's strange not to see a clown smile.

"An apology?" You withdraw the impulse to scoff. "What, exactly, do I have to apologize for?"

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he doesn’t do or say anything at all. You can't even hear him breathing, and it’s twice as eerie as his general demeanor. It's a foreboding omen that signifies he's on the edge of his temper like a bomb sizzling just before it goes off. 

"What do you have to apologize for?" he echoes.

That's all the warnings you get before the cage rattles with enough force to knock you back against the other side of the cage. Buggy's hand curls around the iron bars with such vehemence that it almost looks like he's about to break them right off the hinges.

He leans forward until his nose barely brushes against the cold steel placed between you, his bright-blue eyes near-bloodshot with the way they glower. Even now, with the few feet between you, you find yourself almost drowning in those blue irises of his. 

"You left me. You betrayed me!" he shouts loud enough for his voice to reverberate throughout the room, all thoughts of maintaining his composure thrown out the window the moment you inadvertently admitted your own cluelessness. "Just like all the others! Shanks, now I could've predicted that, but you?"

His hand dislodges yet again to point an accusatory finger at you, but it maintains a safe distance this time. Probably afraid of what you'll try to do with it if you get your hands on it. 

You have to give yourself some credit. You've not lost your temper once since you ended up here. In your adolescence, you would've torn him a new one fo the trouble, but you can't be bothered this time around. You’d have thought two decades of separation would’ve led to some pent-up fury like it has done to him, but all you feel is … well, nothing.

Nothing yet, anyhow.

"What you did to me, now that was cruel. That was something I did not expect, but you did it, and for what?" The cage continues to shake as his fingers dig into the rods. This time, you observe, he’s keeping his head slightly tilted downwards, rendering you unable to detect his eyes. "For Red-Haired fucking SHANKS!"

With all the movement going on in your limited space, you’re jolted forth again like a ball and cling to the front bars with your hand positioned right above his. Even with the gloves and the short distance keeping you separated, you can feel the scorching heat emitting from him.

How long has it been since you were last this close to him? It was underneath the stars, you unexpectedly recall. You were clinging to him, crying your heart out as the death of your captain had finally been processed. He was holding you close, whispering something you could not make out at the time.

It was during a time when it was just you, him, and Shanks. The three of you, against the rest of the world, ready to live up to Gol's legacy and become the Pirates of the New Age. With  Shanks’ leadership, your strength, and Buggy’s general unpredictability, nothing could stop you.

But now you're here, a captive. No longer a friend, no longer a... 

It never went that far, anyhow. No use bringing it up now when it’s hardly relevant. 

When Buggy’s raspy breaths slow down and his hold on the iron rods lessens, you decide to finally speak. 

"You're the one who left, Buggy," you say, your words laced with such apparent apathy that no one would’ve guessed what you’re feeling. In reality, you want to scream until his ears literally pop. 

Your chest constricts just to say it out loud, but you won't even stop and address the tremble that threatens to claim your voice the more you go into it. "I went with Shanks, because who else was I supposed to go with? The Roger Pirates were spread to the fucking corners of the earth, Gol D. Roger was dead, and you left. I had no one except for him. You closed that door, not me." 

Silence reigns loudly upon you as you're left there, nearly breathless after your little rant despite having kept your voice even throughout it. You feel pathetic, childlike, small. People say that admitting something is the first step towards overcoming it, but you feel neither achieved or relieved of any burdens.

You just feel ... small. As small as you were the day he disappeared from your life.

Buggy doesn't say anything, his countenance empty of any tell-tale signs regarding what he might be feeling. It's almost ironic. The man who used to wear his emotions on his sleeves, the same expressive man who used to spend hours bragging about his capacities and capabilities on the Oro Jackson, has now been rendered mute like a mime instead of a jester.

His eyes find yours again after an unknown amount of time, only now, it's not just bitterness and resentment you have to salvage from them. For a second, just a brief flash of the moment, there's something else. Something vulnerable. 

It goes as quickly as it came. 

He shoves himself from the cage, his indecipherable gaze – now laced with both anger and regret – lingering on you before he starts pacing around the room, having calmed down from his outburst but being no less agitated by the turn of events. 

"What are you talking about?" he demands, sounding a tad more curious now than accusatory. "You were already going to leave with Shanks before I booked it, I just beat you to it."

This time, it's your turn to point an accusatory finger toward him, lowering your voice just enough for him to hear you recount the most painful memory you have, save for Gol D.'s death. The memory you had spent almost two decades trying to bury deep down inside you. 

"The last thing you told me was that you wished that you'd never even met me, and then you fucking left me behind to go do who the fuck knows what. Which, apparently,— " You gesture to your surroundings with a dismissive wave of your hand. "— Includes enslaving people and keeping them in cages."

"Hey, people are allowed to have side-gigs!" he retorts, almost boyishly as if you didn't just have a serious argument moments ago. "Don't judge me! You used to steal shit when we were kids, but you didn't hear me bitching about it!"

You roll your eyes. Some things don't change, that being the childish bickering, not the enslaving and caging bit. Your lip inclines upwards for just a second, and it declines just as quickly. You lean back against the other wall of your cage and heave a breath, tired of it all

"Speaking of kids," he rests his arms atop a crate to his left. "What's up with you and Rubber-Boy over there? Luffy, was it?"

Your lip drops to a scowl. Looks like the kid's Devil Fruit powers have come to light, one fruit eater to another. "What about him?"

Buggy smirks and pulls out a knife from inside his coat. He turns it playfully in his hand, balancing the sharp edge at the tip of his finger as though in deep thought. "He yours or something? 'Cause, I gotta admit, I never took you as the white-picket-fence type."

He’s joking, right? 

Right?

"He's not mine.”

The look that befalls his face almost seems like … relief? He’s quick to mask it though with a half-assed smirk.

"No?" He tips his head to each side and lets the knife lie on the crate. "You sure as hell seem protective over him, and I know for a fact that not just anyone earns the favor of the legendary Cross-Hairs.” He puts a hand under his chin, feigning a motion of deep thinking. “What'd he do? Save your life? You found him in the trash? Or did you shag up with his daddy or something?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I made a promise."

At the mention of this, he promptly ceases with his ridiculous guesses and his words turn sharp. "To whom?"

"None of your fucking business." You're pretty sure that if he learns that you made that promise to none other than Shanks, he'd unleash a different kind of hell not even the death of Roger could hope to spark. 

Rather than pushing the matter, he shrugs with an air of indifference. "I just find it funny, that's all." He chuckles, but his tone lacks any visible sense of comicalness. "You, one of the most notorious pirates to ever cross the East-Blue, disappeared for a decade to do what, exactly? Look after a simple-minded brat who talks shit about becoming King of the Pirates." 

He snaps his attention back to you and moves closer to the cage again, crouching on his knees to gaze up at you instead. "Sorry not sorry to burst that little bubble, but that title will belong to me. Once I get the map your stretchy little runt has hidden, I will find the One Piece. I will become King. I will be known, and I will be loved."

("You were loved,") a part of you wants to tell him. The part that still lingers in your shared past. ("You were always loved.")

But you keep your mouth shut.

He perceives your silence as a sign to continue. "You know, despite everything that happened, I'm opening my heart to forgiveness, for old times’ sake."

"Forgiveness?"

He smiles, but this one, you discover, is genuine. At least, in comparison to all the other ones he's flashed you beforehand. It's a lukewarm feeling, but familiar. You're almost tempted to reach through the bars and feel his cheeks, trace the edges of his lips, and smudge away the red make-up just to know if it is real or just a figment of your imagination. 

"If you convince Rubber-Boy to hand over that map of the Grand Line, I might consider opening a special spot in my crew, just for you. I know better than anyone what you're capable of. Hell, it'll be just like old times, like nothing ever changed. You and me, against the rest of the world."

Slowly, he reaches his hand up and towards you through the bars, palm open for you to take.

"Don't you miss it?" he whispers, wistfully. "I do. Save for the One Piece, it's been the one thing I've wanted more than anything else."

You blink, and a feeling settles over your chest. Not uncomfortable per se, but not kind either. Like being enveloped by a warm yet tight blanket, staving you off the cold but suffocating you all the same. 

Your dream. You remember your dream. The one you thought gone forever, now seemingly resurfacing from the depths in your heart where it initially drowned. To travel and explore the seas, the three of you by each other’s sides until the very end. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Now, Buggy is opening up the possibility of that dream coming back to life again. 

You're tempted to take his hand, feel the warmth that once held you so openly when you were younger.

You raise your hand to him ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Rubber Boy can come too for all I care.” He proceeds to add. “He's a special case, and there's nothing I appreciate more than special ones." 

Your hand stops and promptly withdraws.

Buggy raises his eyebrows in shock, his fingers curling as they were about to grasp at yours only to find empty air. "What? What is it? What's wrong?" 

Luffy.

You shake your head. "He won't give up. He won't give up on his dream." 

"What, Rubber-Boy?" he scowls like the name itself tastes like bitter venom on his tongue. "He's just a stupid kid, he'll grow out of it. Once he sees that there's no way he would last in the Grand Line on his own, he'll get in line."

You take a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation that's about to come with your next words. "He won't, and no power or authority on this earth is ever going to be able to change that."

A flash of hurt crosses his facial features, only for a second, yet it feels like longer. Then, it stops, and all that's left is the same bitterness he showed that very day.

Snarling, Buggy pulls his hand back and gets back up on his feet. “I should’ve expected this. You never choose me!" he flares and pulls both his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. "It's always someone els- Always someone fucking else. First Shanks, then this damn brat! Why?" He briefly pauses, as if weighing his next words. "What did they ever do that was so special that you decided to stick around for them that I didn't do?"

You’ve just about had enough of his self-pitying attitude. 

"I never 'chose' Shanks!" you hiss back at him. "It was never a choice. Why was I supposed to 'choose' anyone for that matter? What made you reach the conclusion that there had to be a choice at all?!"

He parts his jaws to answer with what you can only expect to be yet another sneer when the curtains behind him parts, and a member of the troupe enters. A dark-skinned man with a Mohawk of sorts, with filed teeth resembling a shark more than a man.

"Boss, the kid ain't saying nothin' about the map." The man ("Sharptooth", you decide to call him for now) says with a deep twinge of aggravation. "We're already at nearly thirty-damn-feet, and all the little shit does is fuckin' laugh at us."

Buggy does not even turn to address the man, his attention solely at you, but you can tell he's irritated by this interruption.

"Sharptooth" turns to you, having just realized you’re here. A sinister grin spreads along his cheeks, and he licks his upper teeth lecherously. "What do we do 'bout her? Is she up on the menu yet? I'm starvin'."

You crouch down, one hand positioned between your knees like a predator ready to lunge at the slightest movement. Truth be told, despite your reputation, killing someone has never been one of life's greatest joys for you, and it's been a while since you last committed a murder. However, the years have done little to weaken you, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty if the situation demands it.

You'll be sure to let him know first-hand that if he dares to try anything.

"No," Buggy replies, voice void of any tangible emotions. "She'll snap your neck like a twig before you can get within a foot of her." He turns to face the disappointed performer, and before the latter knows it, a severed hand clamps around his throat and dangles him above the ground with what you can only expect to be a bruising grip. "I am, on the other hand, not limited by such proximity."

The man's face begins to pale as the blood flow to his brain is cut short, but the grip does not lessen at all.

Buggy speaks like he’s having a normal conversation. "She stays here, and no one, and I mean no one, is going to touch her. Understood?" His soft say leaves no room for opposition.

You watch as "Sharptooth" struggles to form a coherent sentence as he desperately clings to the hand keeping him afloat. "Y-Yes si— Yes, Captain. W-We won't!"

With a bored swish, the hand shoves the performer back a good two feet, where he crashes to the ground and clutches his neck in search of air.

"Splendid!" Buggy attaches his wrist back and claps his hands together, his Show Man act replenished. "Now, be sure to tell the others of that little fact, and while you're at it,—" he draws his palms away from one another in a straight motion. "Add another five feet."

The crew member wastes no time shuffling from the ground and all but books it out of there.

Buggy heaves a deep and dramatic sigh, exaggeratedly slumping his shoulders, and swings back to you again.

"Supporting casts, am I right?"

You don't bother with a reply.

He takes this with a lackadaisical shrug. "Now, as much as I'd like to continue this intriguing, little tête-à-tête, I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere. The show must go on, but I’ll come back before you know it."

It doesn't matter when he'll be back. You don't plan on waiting for him. You've already waited twenty long years, and as your temper simmers evenly under your skin, you intend to get one thing across.

"Just remember this, Buggy," 

You lean against the bars, pressed so tightly that it feels like your body is about to push through the narrow gaps. "If you do anything to the kid, anything at all, and you can consider our past six feet under. I'll come after you, and when I'm finished,—"

Fist clenched; you deliver a solid strike to the bar that rattles throughout the room to the point where it feels like even the ground is quacking from the force. Buggy jumps a few steps back in retreat, and when he looks up again, his breath halts. 

Where there was once a straight bar keeping you contained, there's now a prominent curve pointing out towards him. Not nearly large enough for you to squeeze through, but it's there, nonetheless.

When you lower your fist, knuckles red but intact, you finish your warning. "— Not even your Devil-Fruit powers will manage to keep you intact."

His eyes flicker between you and the now-deformed iron bar. Unexpectedly, he only stares, neither returning a threat nor even a joke to ease the tension. He doesn’t say anything at all, and the absence of words leaves nothing up to interpretation.

Buggy knows better than anyone that you don't make half-assed threats. Never you. Once you’ve set your eyes on a target, you don’t rest. He recalls the look of pure bloodlust in your eyes from back when you were young. It was neither cruel nor sadistic, but it felt cold to witness. Ice incarnate. 

A predator just following its prime instincts.

Whenever someone posed a problem to either you or your crew mates, you would counter it with a threat. It didn't matter how bold-faced it sounded, you always made sure to see it through. 

As a teenager, he begrudgingly thought that it was hot as hell. You were. Watching the way your eyes would almost glower as you made good on your promises, it did things to him.

Now, even when he's on the receiving end of it, it still does.

He can't deny that the feeling hasn't diminished. For what it’s worth, it means that you’ll keep your focus on him. He’ll have your eyes, all for his own now. Those very eyes, always so sleek and ready to cut and by God, he realizes at that moment just how fucking much he’s missed them.

How much he’s missed you.

“Well,” he says as he makes his way to the exit. “I guess I’ll see you in the front row.”

[morgana-larkin]

okay okay okay, this is silly but i just need a fic where mel goes all silly and awkward when r is around, abbott staff notices and so does the camera crew where sometimes they caught / filmed when mel is being like all goof around the girl, and when the crew interviews her about it she threatens them and tries to make them wipe off the tape but r pops up to the interview and was like "no, no, you're too cute in there mi cariña, and once again, Melissa who's always in her so tough bravado, immediately folds in live action and makes a fool out of herself and r thinks it's cute. I just need a fic where Melissa loses her sht and melt because of a girl lol bahsjjajaja

Ask and receive 😉. I really liked this prompt and had a lot of fun with the fic so thank you for suggesting it. As always, not edited at all and I hope you like it!

And just so everyone knows, I’m working on another prompt. And for all the Worth It fans, I am working on chapter 7 so don’t worry, it’s not abandoned or forgotten. Everyone feel free to send in any prompts you want.

Part 2

Caught on Camera

Warnings: none

Words: 2.1k

Melissa is leaning against the wall looking at the camera, arms folded, getting interviewed. She was getting asked a question when you walked by and smiled at her. Melissa looked at you and smiled back, then she lost her balance and stumbled for a second before immediately correcting herself. “Melissa?” The interview person said, getting her attention. Melissa turned to look at them. “Sorry, what was the question again?” Melissa says and continues with the interview.

Melissa was walking down the hall with Barb when you walked by. “Good morning girls!” You told them as you walked by them and Melissa looks at you and turns her body a bit. “Hi sweetheart!” Barb says “hi y/n” Melissa says to you with a smile. As you walk away in the opposite direction, Melissa stares at you while still walking and accidentally walks right into a wall. “You ok Melissa?” Barb asks and tries to hide a snicker. She knows her best friend has a little crush on you. “Ya I’m fine.” Melissa tells her. Unknown to Melissa, the camera caught it.

“I’m telling you it’s true!” Jacob says to Melissa one day in the break room. “No it isn’t.” Melissa tells him, she wasn’t going to change her mind no matter what he says to her. “Y/n, back me up here.” Jacob says as you enter and Melissa whips her head around to see you. “Back you up about what?” You ask. “That Misty Quigley is totally into girls.” He says and you laugh. “Oh she definitely is, even if they don’t outright say it.” You say. “Melissa doesn’t think she is.” Jacob says and you look at Melissa. “Wel-well I guess she could be. I-I just, well they would need to confirm it for it to be 100%.” Melissa stutters and everyone looks at her. “Melissa, she totally is, like she was so obsessed with Natalie and even asked her to go to the reunion with her, basically as her date.” You tell her. And just like that, Melissa switched sides. Everyone looks at each other, wondering why Melissa switched so easily and quickly as soon as you said your opinion. The cameras on the other side of the room caught the entire conversation.

All the teachers are gathering in the gym for a meeting before school. Melissa is sitting next to Barb in the middle aisle at the end, with the trio right behind them. She has her arms crossed and feet out , and half on the chair. You walk by and smile at her and give her a wink. Melissa stares at you and proceeds to slip forward and falls off the chair. All 4 of them asking if she’s ok while they all try to hide a laugh. One of the cameras caught the exchange.

Melissa was getting interviewed out in the hall about the read-a-thon. “Oh I still got this, Janine’s class is going down.” She says and you walk by. One of the cameraman asks if you could be a part of the interview. You agree and are told to stand right beside Melissa. You get asked about the read-a-thon and who you think will win. “Oh Melissa’s class for sure. Her class wins every year.” You said confidently and Melissa blushes and has a goofy smile that she tries to hide, but the camera caught it.

On another day, Melissa is getting interviewed again, you walk by and get asked to be a part of it again. When Melissa gets asked to speak again she doesn’t know what to say. All her brain processes is that your arm is touching hers and all that comes out of her is a stuttering mess. The interviewer smiles after you two left to continue the day, he sees that Melissa acts differently only around you.

The next day, Melissa is interviewed again. This time she gets asked about you. “What about y/n?” She asked. The interviewer smiles “we have a bunch of moments where you act differently when she’s around.” Melissa blushes. You heard the question as you were walking by to the bathroom and you stop to listen. Melissa glares at them, “delete all that footage or I know a guy that will make you.” She tells them sternly. “Delete it? Melissa no, you’re too cute in them mia carino.” You say and she freezes, her mouth open and eyes wide in shock as she processes what you just said. Then her cheeks go red and closes her mouth as it goes dry. “Oh, ok, ya..of course, ya, they should keep the footage.” Melissa says, stuttering and stumbling through the entire sentence.

After the camera crew figured out that Melissa likes y/n, and her entire tough bravado falls when she’s around, they try and get moments of them together on camera and try and interview both of you together as much as possible. And every time, without fail, Melissa blushes and smiles, and her tough Philly girl act is basically non existent. While they know Melissa’s feelings about you, they don’t know how you feel about Melissa.

“How do I feel about Melissa?” You say the question they asked. “Oh, well she’s nice and very passionate about what she does, it’s kinda cute.” You say, trying to hide a smile, the camera catches it.

The rest of the Abbott crew caught on to Melissa’s feelings, and they have fun whenever Melissa’s personality completely changes when you’re around, which is every time.

Then the PECSA weekend comes. When you get there, you find out the hotel accidentally overbooked and they don’t have a room for you. You sighed, disappointed and defeated, you turn and go to walk out. You walk right into Melissa as soon as you turn around.

“Oh Melissa! I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.” You tell her.

“Y/n, hi, oh it’s fine, it happens. Shouldn’t you be heading the other way though to bring your stuff to your room?” Melissa says to you with a blush.

“Oh actually they overbooked and I don’t have a room. So I’m gonna go see if another hotel close by has a room I could stay in.” You tell her.

“What? Nonsense, just stay with me.” She says and your face goes red.

“What? Really? Are you sure?” You ask her and Melissa’s brain catches up with what she just said. She isn’t going to back out now though, especially when she sees the hope on your face.

“Ya, ya of course. Let me just check in and then we can go up.” She tells you and you accept her offer with a huge smile. The camera in the lobby caught you two.

After she checks in, and gets 2 keycards, you and her go to the room and you freeze when you see only one bed.

“I promise I don’t bite. But I do want the right side.” She tells you. And on the inside, she’s freaking out, the fact that she’ll get to share a bed with you for a whole night…she feels a rush of happiness run through her whole body.

Once you two get settled in, you go downstairs to where all the teachers in Philly are and the convention booths and Barb is there waiting.

“Hey Barb.” Melissa greets her. “Sorry I’m late. They overbooked and y/n here didn’t have a room, so she’s staying with me now.” Melissa says with a grin, and Barb gives her a look then looks to you.

“Oh, sorry that happened sweetheart. I’m glad Melissa was able to help you out.” She tells you.

“Ya I’m glad she was too. I won’t get in your way though. I’ll let you two do your thing.” You say as you go to walk around by yourself.

“You can always join us sweetheart.” Barb says and Melissa snaps her head to Barb as Barb gives her a smirk.

“Ya of course, just join us, more fun when you’re with other people.” Melissa says and smiles at you.

You smile and accept their offer. You stay close to Melissa the entire time and vice versa. They don’t stay long though, they go to leave after they run into Janine. The smile on your face falls when you realise she’s leaving to go to the pool, and are about to ask Janine and Jacob to walk around with them when Melissa grabs your shoulders with her hands.

“You can come with us hun.” Melissa says and she lights up when you accept. You’re glad you packed a bathing suit, you knew there was a pool and packed one just in case you get time to swim.

You come out of the bathroom in your bikini but with a little beach dress covering you. You two walk down to the pool and meet Barb there. They find some lounge chairs and order drinks. You put your towel on your chair and take your dress off, revealing your body in a bikini. Melissa is sipping on her drink when she sees you take your dress off and she chokes and starts coughing. You go and gently pat her upper back and rub and Melissa’s face goes red and her breath hitched. Melissa has a hell of a time trying to keep it together and try not to stare too much when you’re swimming in the pool. She feels like life is testing her when you climb out with the ladder, with your hair and body all wet and you walk towards where they are to get your towel. Melissa can’t help but stare at your body as you dry your hair with the towel. Barb had to give her a small nudge to snap her out of it.

It only got worse for Melissa when it was the big party time. You come out with a black dress on that stops mid thigh and has a revealing neckline that shows off your chest amazingly. Melissa stares at you as you walk out of the bathroom, and if she was paying any attention, she would have noticed you staring at her. Melissa stares at you almost the entire night. At one point they were going to sit down until Melissa’s sister comes and sits down and they get up to leave.

“Hey guys, are you leaving? I was just about to come join you at the table.” You say as you make your way over. Melissa immediately sits back down again.

“No we were just going to walk around a bit but that can wait, come sit.” She says and gets a look from her sister and Melissa sends her a glare. You look and see that there isn't another chair around and before you do or say anything, Melissa grabs your waist and pulls you down to sit on her lap. You freeze and Melissa wraps her hands around your waist and smiles.

The more into the night it gets, the more drunk you and her get. At one point you guys are walking to get drinks and you stumble a bit and crash right into Melissa, and she’s tipsy too and she stumbles back into a wall. She freezes and blushes like crazy when she sees that she’s trapped between you and a wall. You look up at her to apologise but freeze when she’s already looking at you and she licks her lips when she looks down at yours. You lean in and kiss her and her whole brain freezes. You go to pull away when you realise she isn’t kissing back, but then she pulls you back in and kisses you back. The cameras caught all of it.

The next morning you, Melissa and Barb are sipping energy drinks to help ease the hangover. When you all step out of the elevator, Melissa wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you to her and kisses the side of your head and you smile at her. The entire Abbott crew saw as you catch up with them.

“Um, what was that?” Janine asks you both.

“What was what?” Melissa asks. And they all know not to question it further, but they still all smile at the two of you. As you guys walk out, you pass by a camera and Melissa looks up at it and smiles. She got her girl.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

If you wish to be added then let me know!

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

You know who else needs food right now? And funds, and shelter, and to be able to live with at least a tolerable quality of life?

This Family! @ali-manar3

(Verification info is on the linked post and here's a screenshot from the @gazavetters list)

One of the children in this family also received a shrapnel wound. So they've got no choice but to live in a crowded tent, while their children suffer from both hunger and injury.

Every share can help rally more support for this campaign! So please don't hesitate.

Then if/when you're able to donate please keep the currency conversion in mind!

10 Kroner = 1 US Dollars (approximately)

Every action no matter how small helps more than you know. And it will help this family survive until they can find lasting safety.

Thank You.

Current Funding 8,449 / 550,000 SEK

But in US dollars that's only

845 / 55,000 USD

Direct Link to the Campaign Here

Tag List to help this reach more people. Please share to help this struggling campaign reach more people. Ya'll are wonderful for the help you give and the work you do. Dm if you'd like removal

@geekydragon @a-shade-of-blue @sunnylittledragon

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[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Stargoth oneshot - Safety

“Grandpa Ralph,” Chase calls out as he’s heading to the door. “I’m going to go pick up my friend.”

“All right! Be careful driving at night!”

Chase stepped out. Deacon really wasn’t fond of the idea of Chase doing this alone. But Chase insisted he should. He didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy.

Chase gets in his car and Deacon comes over to the window. “Be safe, man. Do you have the pocket knife?”

“Yep.”

“And the pepper spray?”

“Mhm.”

“And the taser?”

“Yesssss! I have everything I need in case this goes south. My phone is off of silent, I set up the emergency button on my phone, and I have my whistle. I’ll be OK.”

Deacon furrows his brow. “OK…”

Before Chase could roll up the window, Deacon quickly says, “And Chase. If he really is… yknow.. If he really is going through what he told us he’s going through.. Make sure he’s doing fine.”

Chase nods. “I will. And I’ll tell him you’re concerned!”

“Please do not.”

Chase rolls up the car window and backs out of the driveway, setting the route directions on his phone and turning on some music, the first song coming on being a YOASOBI song. He started to drive down the road, seeing the sunset in the distance. Chase wasn’t sure how he managed to get through to him, but if this really is going to work, then this could be the most important thing he’s ever done, right along with trying to help his mom.

He passes by a sign that read, “Bus Stop 10 miles.” The road in this area was rocky, causing him to drive slow, the song now playing being a Britney Spears song.

He finally reaches the bus stop, it being nearly completely dark out right now. He pulls up next to the sidewalk, not parking so he won't get in trouble.

And there he was..

Buddy wasn’t dressed how Chase was used to. He wore ragged clothes that hung loosely off of his frame. They didn’t look like they’d been washed in a while. And his hair.. When was the last time Buddy had taken a shower…?

He rolls down the window, turning down the music. “Hey.”

Buddy looks up. He looked so tired. “Hey..”

“You not here to jump me, right?” he asks in a gentle playful tone.

Buddy shakes his head. “No.. no..”

He nods and leans back in the driver’s seat. “OK.. get in.”

Buddy hesitated. It felt like if he were to leave this bench and get in Chase’s car, that would be it. It would truly all be over. Like crossing the line into peaceful territory. And it felt too good to be true. But, he eventually managed to push himself up and got into the passenger seat. As soon as the door clicked, he knew this was it. It was finally it. He was free.

The two looked at one another. They’ve never been so close before. Not emotionally. Buddy’s never felt so seen.

Chase holds out his hand. “You doing good?”

Buddy pauses, considering his response. What could he say? What would he usually say to Chase, on any other day? Usually a snarky response would come to him so quickly, but it’s hard being witty when you’re so scared.

The only response he could give was a choked sob. He’d never cried in front of Chase before. He never wanted to cry in front of Chase before. It had been one of his worst nightmares.

But instead of mockery, or heaven forbid awkward pity, Chase simply rubs his back, no words needed with the action. Buddy only felt like crying even harder because of the action. Because it felt so good, so warm, so needed and so.. So loving.

“I have a pack of tissues in the glove compartment,” Chase says softly, patting Buddy’s shoulder.

Buddy nods, keeping his face turned toward the window so Chase can’t see him. 

Chase wondered if Buddy had any smeared makeup or something, but seeing Buddy’s reflection in the window causes him to realize he wasn’t wearing any makeup. And then he remembered.

“They don’t let me have anything,” is what Buddy had told him. And based on the clothes… ya. Probably not.

Buddy shrugs off the jacket he was wearing. His favorite jacket that he wears all the time. He places it over Buddy’s shoulders.

“The drive’s around 30 minutes,” he says gently. “Wanna listen to music?”

Buddy thinks for a moment. “Like.. Beethoven or Debussy?”

Chase snorts.

“What’s so funny?”

“Don’t.. Don’t worry about it. Be grateful you don’t know.”

“OK?”

“But, um.. We can listen to those if you want. Is that who you would listen to back in the Ex Libris?”

Buddy nods.

“OK. Lemme put on some of their music.”

Buddy hesitates, looking at Chase’s phone. He’d.. actually never seen one. He’s never had access to anything electronic or the internet.

“Actually,” Buddy says. “Can we listen to some of.. Your music?”

Chase looks at him, surprised, before nodding. “Ya. Of course, sure!”

He presses shuffle, the first song coming up being Chappell Roan’s Good Luck, Babe. 

Buddy hugged his knees, listening to the song playing as he looked out the window, watching the dark shadows of trees and buildings go by. Something about the words of the song just.. spoke to him. He never listened to music with words. Hell, he’s never heard anything speak about pining for someone of the same gender. He glances over at Chase, who’s tapping the steering wheel.

“So..” Buddy says. “Where’s your friend.. Deacon?”

“Oh. I didn’t want him to come.”

Buddy’s heart skipped a beat at this. And he hated that it skipped a beat. And then he hated that he hated it because why can’t he just let himself be vulnerable?

“Well.. it’s been a while that it’s been just us without him..”

Chase looks over at him at that comment, blushing a little. “Ya.. Guess it has been.”

The song came to an end and Buddy looked at the bluetooth screen. “Can you.. Can you play more stuff like that?”

“Huh? O-Oh! Sure! Ya, totally I have a pretty good playlist.”

The next song to come up being Mad Tsai’s Stacy’s Brother. Chase blushes brightly, not wanting to listen to a song like this with Buddy, but before he could skip it, he saw the intense look of concentration on Buddy’s face. He wanted to listen to this song, and Chase couldn’t just skip it. And it was a really good song… So why not just let it play? Even if he might start gay panicking, this isn’t about him. It’s about Buddy.

They eventually reach Chase’s house and Buddy looks at the home, suddenly terrified. He’s going to be in Chase’s home. He’s going to meet Chase’s family. He’s going to be in Chase’s life now. And Chase will be in his.

Chase steps out and opens Buddy’s door for him. “You all right?” he asks, noticing the look on Buddy’s face.

“I.. Does your family know I’m coming?”

“I told my grandpa a friend of mine needs somewhere to stay.”

“Your grandpa?”

“Ya. Don’t worry, he was cool with it.”

Buddy keeps hesitating before tightening Chase’s jacket around his shoulders and then steps out of the car. “OK.. Just make sure that they don’t touch me or anything.”

Chase snorts. “I would never let them touch you, your majesty.”

Buddy couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

Chase opens the door for him. Buddy steps in and looks around. The home was.. Simple. It was just cozy and it wasn’t like a fairytale home. It was just a home. And that was something Buddy had never seen before.

“Grandpa!” Chase calls out, startling Buddy. “My friend is here!”

There was no response at first, and Buddy just thought that Chase’s guardian probably didn’t care and ignored the announcement, but then an older man came around the corner.

“Ah, yes. Chase told me you were struggling and needed somewhere to stay. I need you to try this,” he says, holding out a spoon of brownie batter.

“Huh?”

“I need this to be better than Diane’s.”

“Than whose?”

“You don’t have to eat it, Buddy,” Chase says.

Buddy stares at the spoon before slowly taking it. It smelled like.. chocolate! He quickly eats it and he’s just taken so off guard by how good it tasted.

“That’s really good.”

Ralph nods. “Yes. Yes it is.” He turns to Chase. “Take him to the basement, and set up his bed.”

“I knooooow, Grandpa.” He turns to Buddy. “Cmon.”

He leads Buddy upstairs, and Buddy looks around. He really can’t believe that this was Chase’s home. Chase, the boy he’s hated. The boy he’s fought. The boy who’s cared about him. This was where he’s lived this whole time. It’s like this home was a storybook all about Chase that Buddy had stepped into. 

They reach a bedroom and in the bedroom, Buddy sees a familiar face. Sitting on a swivel chair, reading some romance novel was the freckled brunette who Buddy really hates. 

Deacon looks up from his book and his eyebrows go up. “Well, dang. He really is here.”

Buddy is confused, looking in between the two of them. “Do you 2 live together?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Chase says, laughing. “Deacon is my cousin! I forgot I never told you that.”

This surprised Buddy. Family. This was all Chase’s family. Something that he’s never had, or experienced.

Deacon leans back in the chair, trying to seem cool, but ends up nearly falling back. Chase snorts. “Dorkin.”

“Shut. Up.”

Buddy watches the two of them. He’s seen them argue before, but this felt different. Maybe it’s because of the knowledge of their relationship. Maybe it’s because he’s witnessing it within their home. But it was still just.. Different.

Chase turns back to Buddy and takes his hand, catching Buddy off guard, but he doesn’t get a chance to pull away before Chase takes him to another staircase, this one leading toa secret cubby in the ceiling. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to sleep upstairs with the keys.”

“The keys?”

He pokes his head out and there he sees them. Golden, silver, and bronze figures looking at him. The other keys.

“Haha!” declares the Hero Key. “Here you have arrived! We have waited for you, valiant friend! Welcome and amazing job turning to the side of light!”

“Uhhhhh..”

The Helper Key sighs and doesn’t seem too interested in Buddy being here. “Just don’t step on my house.”

“House?”

“Oh ya!” Chase says. “They all have their own houses!”

“You.. You gave them houses?” “Ya!”

“Why?”

“Why not? They deserve something nice too.”

He stares at them, trying to understand. They were just keys.

The Heroine Key places a hand on Buddy’s knee.

“Violet. Is she..”

Buddy stares at the silver key as he remembers Violet.

He couldn’t get her. If he did, the elders would’ve noticed almost immediately and he would’ve never been able to escape.

“I..” He clenches his jaw and feels the tears coming again. He shouldn't cry over a damn key. It’s not like it was a person. It’s not like he cared about Violet. No, about the Villainess Key.

The Heroine Key gives him a sympathetic look and she nods. “I understand.”

He watches the silver key walk off and for some reason, some reason, he calls out, “She misses you.. I know she does.”

The Heroine key looks at him again and smiles. “Did she speak of me?”

His heart hurt as he remembered. “All the time.”

She nods. “Thank you.” She disappeared inside of her makeshift home.

“That was nice of you,” Chase says next to him.

“Oh.. was it?”

“Ya. But I’m not surprised.”

Buddy raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a good person.”

Buddy paused, not understanding what Chase had said. Why he said it. No he wasn’t. He really wasn’t. But Chase said it like he really did mean it.

That he was a good person?

A good person?

But, when Chase says it with that sincere look in his eyes…

How could he think he was lying?

“You can borrow my shower and I’ll lend you some clothes to sleep in. And then tomorrow we can go shopping!”

The idea of wearing Chase’s clothes freaked Buddy out, but kind of in a good way. He hugs the jacket he was wearing and looks down. “Why are you helping me? After everything I’ve done?”

Chase looks at him, confused. It was such an obvious answer that he didn’t know where the confusion could be coming from.

“Because, Buddy. I don’t let anyone suffer when they don’t deserve it.”

Buddy begins to walk to the ladder, about to leave to give Buddy some privacy and time to adjust. But right before Chase could leave, Buddy reaches out and touches Chase’s hand, stopping him.

The two stare at each other, blushing faces at stares that say everything in the world.

“My name. My name is…”

The words escaped his lips and damnit.. Saying it outloud felt like the release of a heavy burden. 

Chase stares at him and repeats the words, each syllable coming out beautifully on his lips.

“Ya… OK.” He squeezes his hand. “You’re safe here. This is your home now… We.. I am your home.. Now.. If you’ll let me.”

The raven haired boy stares at him, no words coming out, but his face says it all. That Chase was everything.

“Come down for a shower when you’re ready,” Chase says. “And.. welcome to the Hollow home.”

Hollow.

No.

This house was anything but hollow.

And Buddy’s heart felt full.

Divider by @bunnysrph

[darlingofvalyria]

As the Princess of the Realm's most favoured maid, there are certain liberties you are privy to demand. Jealousy of the people surrounding your lady is not one of them. Amused, Rhaenyra wishes to show her jealous little darling that there is nothing to worry about.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ MIND MANIPULATION, BLOOD PLAY ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,763 ] [ masterlist ] | Vampire!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Maid!Reader

contains— smut, fluff - monsterfucking, hurt/comfort, jealousy, allusions to murders and kidnapping (not reader), mind manipulation, mentions of blood - this is a darkish fic - nsfw: monsterfucking, v and v sex, blood play(?), thigh riding, dubcon - no betas.

a/n— countess bathory rhae version. + Quick note: I don't actually remember/know if a crown princess is higher in stature to a queen consort. I know a queen at least is higher than a crown princess... but in this fic, i'm making it so that a king's direct/crowned heir is higher in status to that of a queen consort, as in what i want you to understand here that a king's chosen heir has bigger power than someone who is only married to royalty and title. this is of course different than the show but eh. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You understand why they salivate after her like starved dogs for a hunt. Prowling, on the verge of humping the very ground she walks on.

Your princess is every consonant and vowel of her royal visage and title, adorned in jewels and gold, Valyrian steel interlaced across her throat and waist. Fat rubies in her ears, weighted layers of gold gleam across her collarbone with a Valyrian steel necklace that strung an almost black amethyst drop nestled in her bosom.

Rings of all kind adorned her fingers as she held a goblet, amused by whatever topic the Riverland Lord was saying with gusto, fat stomach straining against a leather belt.

In any feast, she is the star, unable to be shadowed by her enemies now that her confidence had bloomed. She presided every conversation, lords and ladies following her red mouth as much as her words, dominating circles of power with ease that surpassed her gender.

The Heir to the Iron Throne. The Realm's Delight.

You had never been prouder to say you serve such a woman, body and soul.

And at the same time, you cannot help the feeling of jealousy to flash like a quick strike of a dagger. It is not your mistress' fault that people stave off the attention she gives them. It isn't their fault either as you understand the sentiment. Once you've played in her hand, you are evermore enraptured by her.

But you're different. In a way.

As soon as the lord— a Lord Erodd Mudd, a vassal of House Tully who had proudly proclaimed to be an eager follower of the future Black Queen, henceforth his vassals flooding gifts and compliments to your princess — had gotten too close for comfort and too red from the overflowing Arbor Red, that as soon as you see the quick flash of Princess Rhaenyra's comfort threatened, you spring into action.

You move about dancing bodies and beautifully crafted ladies to get to her, your eye meeting her sword shield, the Ser Strong, with a nod. You know your strengths and weaknesses; wrangling a drunken lord physically is not one of them. Neither is a violent drunk, and there had been enough unsavoury gossip of the Lord Mudd for you to be on edge the minute he approached the princess.

You take a low bow in front of them at your sudden interruption, your voice calm but firm. "My princess, the Prince Joffrey is ready to be put to bed."

Rhaenyra smiles, gladdened of your quick feet and quicker thinking. "Thank you—"

"Audacious!" Lord Mudd squeaks, the spittle and stench of alcohol almost makes you grimace. Almost. "The princess is talking to a lord, she does not want—"

"— the princess does not permit others to speak on her behalf, much less about what she wants or thinks," you can't help but snap. "Please refrain yourself from doing so, my lord."

He purples in offence, fist shaking that you sidle up to move in front of the princess. "Oh why, how dare—"

You let out a breathless exhale at the appearance of Breakbones and his meaty hand on the lord's shoulder. "My lord. I'm afraid you've enough to drink. The night grows long." As the lord opens his mouth to retort, Harwin's smile sharpens is enough of a warning that he swallows and jerkily nods.

He bows to Rhaenyra. "G-good night, your grace."

Rhaenyra smiles amusedly, as if she is letting you in on a joke. "And to you, my lord. I will have a maestre prepare a concoction my... little brother uses in a time of head aches. He so prefers the sweet Red such as you."

As he bows again gratefully, Lord Mudd manages to shoot you a final glare before being escorted by Ser Harwin. For a brief moment as the revelry continues on, most guests now well into their cups and dreams to kiss your princess' arse, she laughs quietly in the privacy of your closure.

You snort softly. "I am glad the night has amused you thus far, my princess."

She giggles again. "How can I not? You had been glaring at the poor fool for the better time of the night. He had thought that he had offended me in some way, and was trying to appease with all sorts of ridiculous promises."

"Hm. What can a small vassal house by the name that means 'wet dirt' could possibly offer the princess of the realm?" You can't help but be haughty. Though you do recognise you are being a bit unfair to the lord, for he isn't just the only one who had pried the attention of the princess all night.

"A pretty new maid," Rhaenyra muses, making your blood freeze. "He said he's got a pretty collection of wenches, all well trained by his mother, whom I do know has a heavy teeth with her servants. Lord Tully has endorsed them so. Lady Tully as well. Oh, and that he has daughters fit to be ladies in waiting, should I want for more... high browed ladies."

You inhale deeply. "It is indeed... a good idea to expand your ladies. You are the Heir, higher in stature to the Queen Consort who has an army of ladies both in Great Houses and Vassals." You nod jerkily. "It is a smart idea, my princess."

Rhaenyra smirks, enjoying far too much the inner turmoil of your little head. You don't notice it, as you had perfected serving her for such a time and she is sure onlookers would see only a lady conversing with her maid, but when you are upset and trying not to show it, you blink three times as if wrangling your thoughts in order. There is only a small dip in your serene mouth that always makes her want to press it. Move it around. Then maybe bite you.

But if she touched you now, she would not stop. She knows her hunger very well, and in preparation for the three-day celebrations as well as handling her duties between council meetings and audiences with the common folk— she had not drank in a while.

If she touches you now, there would be no care for titles or eyes.

When she shudders faintly at the image, your keen eye sees it immediately. You see the faint pallor, the inch of peakiness. She had been consuming more and more raw meat, but animals barely curb the thirst.

"Shall I prepare your feast, my princess?"

She blinks at you, surprised. "My feast? Surely this is enough."

You're unable to stop your sigh as you look away. "My princess, surely, you don't think such a feat should go unrewarded? Lords of Great Houses are swayed to your cause. Their vassals are following suit. Even if a Great Council is demanded once more in your reign, the tide will turn for your favour."

"You do not know that." Rhaenyra laughs lightly as you are already shaking your head. "We should not tempt fate."

"You had been doing your duty unto the realm as its heir and its delight. We are tempering any whisper of revolt. Your win is marked in stone," you insist. "A reward is only just."

You scoot closer, pinching your voice low. Rhaenyra holds her breath with a sharp intake of air, a coil, nothing but a whisper, of your scent finds her nostrils and her hunger tightens in her stomach that her fangs sharpen. She bites her bottom lip hard.

"My apologies," you whisper. "But I know your hearing turns mortal when you have not eaten in a while. You must eat. The bustle for the celebration has been a good excuse to hire more alongside what we needed."

Her eyes flash. "... Maidens?"

"At least four of them, my princess."

She gasps, inhaling quickly and your scent comes first, the sweet imprint of your blood hums her own, but her eyes widen at the thick stench of maidens right in her room. Your gift. For your beloved. You smile, despite the niggling, pinch of jealousy that has a thick hold on your neck and Rhaenyra can smell it.

"The revelries will continue on," you say with finality, bowing. "The Prince Jacaerys is doing well with the Northern delegates thus far, and the Young Prince Lucerys has charmed the pirate lords from the Free Cities, as well as the Dornish Prince and his... mistresses. We are well here. I will keep an eye on your heirs. Enjoy yourself, my princess."

The revelries go well into the Hour of Owl before you give nod to the last of the guards and servants tasked with ensuring the more raucous guests find their way to their beds, moving along the quiet flutter of candlelight and sharp, slanting shadows like a wraith. Or a ghost. No one pays you any mind, and they know better.

You sweep straight into the princess' apartments, locking the doors behind you. The iron stench of blood is already thick here, seeping through the corners and clinging to the tapestries. You're used to it, even if the first times had been shaky in your memories. But your actions are a routine, moving to the tub filled thick with blood, almost to the brim, moving a finger through it, beads of blood clinging to you when you raise your hand, falling in slops back to the tub.

You hum along your duties, the actions of a routine is familiar... if not surgically placed into your mind, though the uncomfortable reminder strikes your head in a low, dull thud. Worrisome thought is a blunt knife to the steel guard your princess has wrought in your head.

For your protection, my sweet, Rhaenyra had purred, feeling her nails scratch in the fragments of your malleable brain.

Candles are flickering by the time your princess strides into her room, the heavy door deadbolting with a heavy thud. The stench of blood and her scent— grapefruit and vanille, a touch of something more ancient, cloying and heavy — thickens as you bow, your fingers in unlacing and getting her off the bloodied dress. It’s relatively clean, and she throws you a smirk for it. She knows you hate having to share just as much as she, and knows even better you would never make much fuss, but your chest warms at her thoughtfulness regardless.

She sinks with ease, a low, satiated hum escapes her lips.

“I will assume this is another present?” she teases. “No maidens?”

“Not after the Lannisport incident, no.” You regard her weightily but she only laughs. Sunk in blood, her paleness almost makes her glow. A goddess if nothing else. But her cheeks are also fuller, vibrancy clinging to her gold spun hair and gaze. “These were just as much eager to serve the crown as the young women were eager to serve their princess.”

Rhaenyra’s laugh is spoilt as much as it is indulgent. “And I am assuming you never told them the length or width of their servitude?”

She really does feel much better if she is in such a teasing mood.

“No,” theres a petulant, almost offended notch in your tone that you dont hide as well, if youre ever truly trying to hide it. The day wanes and the moon waxes, and you have been obedient all day.

Rhaenyra bites her lip. You have been good. And deserving. She leans forward, pressing herself back. “Come.”

You still, holding onto her oils. “I still have to wash your hair, princess, it has been an arduous day."

“It has, and you have done so well in pleasing me that I require you here, with me.” Her voice pitches, irises molting to a startling black. Your spine straightens and your gaze glosses. She hums, delighted to see that the full force of her prowess is back. Though it isnt truly much. The strings from your mind and body is one that she has owned long before. “Take off your dress, sweet girl, thats it, faster— and here, right on top of me.”

You are awake and dreaming, its a state you know quite well, but you move where she wants you, your strings hers for the taking, and you are up to your navel in blood before your mind catches up with thought that you are bare, bare before your princess as she looks up, her hands, soft and cold and wet with blood, moulding against the divots of your soft flesh.

She pulls you down with ease, so careful with your skin. Her hunger though fulfilled, the remnants of the creature within her still breathes. Your heartbeat is a siren song and the urge to devour you, to sink her teeth right in that throbbing, fluttering pulse— four maidens down her belly and her hunger for you is still so strong.

Your mind is your own when you have settled righto n her thighs, bracketing her between your own. A shuddering gasp leaves your mouth as she draws her hands from thighs to your centre to your breast to your jaw, pulling you to meet her mouth in a soft exploration between tongue and teeth.

It is kissing for beasts, for creatures trying to find pleasure unknown to them but hungering for it; her tongue tangling with yours, licking at the roof your mouth, her teeth, sharpened, tugging and grating against your soft lips. It is gluttonous as it is guttural, and you feel debased. But you like it, you like the clouding of your mind from pleasure, chasing the hums from her throat and smiling from her little laughs.

It is no wonder that your body craves, hips moving in an insistent, errant sway against her thigh that she laughs once more, finish suckling a bruise on your arched neck.

"Sīr needy hae iā līve, So needy like a whore," she purrs against your skin. "Are you my," she grips your buttocks and pulls you to her, though you stumble, you are still relatively on your knees and your pearl that is craving for attention hits against her stomach and you gasp, "little whore?"

"Yes," you murmur, arms wounding against her neck as she adjusts you more comfortably on her lap, watching intensely at your pleasure as she sits you down and starts moving your hips in a rhythm. "Y-yes I am."

She snakes a hand between you to pinch at your clit. You jolt.

"Manners."

"Yes, my queen!" You sob, head falling on her shoulder as your hips go faster, the blood is spilling, the smell of iron is so strong it fills your lungs, but your first relief is near and Rhaenyra hates denying you pleasure.

Even her punishments have always been to over feed you your own pleasure, indulge in the staccato wails broken by whines as your last peak has barely finished before she is making you reach it again.

"There she is, my sweet girl."

She helps your thighs, moving you faster and faster as she drinks in your skewered brows and hanging mouth, taking a breast into her mouth and laving it with her tongue, groaning at the blood and suckling deep. You will be blooming with bruises come morn and she cannot wait to see the spring she has created on your skin. You are so delicate, so... human. Your fragility is a beauty she enjoys.

Like right now, when your pleasure catches up to you fast and she has made it a mission not to touch your cunt at all, maintaining your movement even as you whine deep in your chest, your forehead falling to her shoulder as you twitch and shudder. When you garble her name, falling your please, p-please, 'smuch, she stops, running her hands instead to your sides, cupping your breasts faintly before she's nudging against your nose until you give in with what she is silently asking: soft, tugging kisses.

"Deep breaths, sweet one," she whispers against your mouth when she pulls away, "I will take more of your pleasure. All the sweet maidens in these lands are nothing to the taste of you." For emphasis, her other hand is already between your thighs, brushing insistently against your pearl.

Teasing, always teasing. You shudder.

"Your pleasure is much your reward as it is mine. Now, once more. On my fingers." She bares her fangs, another light laugh that tugs at your core because it is full of promises. "Then against my cunt."

Because Rhaenyra gives as much as she takes.

And she wants everything you... 'willingly' give.