#No idea if there's already a different ship name for these two but if not

[terresdebrume]

The old fashioned try

Fandom: Band of Brothers Rating: Teen & up Warning: None Pairing: Bill Guarnere/Babe Heffron Length: 2 260 words.

Summary: Bill and Babe have a regular Thursday night meetup. It's the highlight of Bill's week, except when Babe sits at the table with the stress levels of a deer being hunted for sports.

Note: The other day @gamebird prompted me to write about my favorite character being under tremendous amounts of stress. This isn't quite that, but it's still only here because of the prompt, so thanks for that :) Hopefully, I'll manage to clean it up and edit it enough to crosspost to AO3 before the 31st, but if not it'll be my first fic of 2024 I guess x) Also, this is part of the same modern AU as the story centered on Ruth Liebgott, but you don't really need to have read that to read this.

There’s something wrong with Babe. Bill clocks it before he even sets a crutch in the diner. His first clue? It’s seven pm on the dot, the exact hour they’ve agreed to meet, and not only is Babe right there, he’s got a mostly-empty beer bottle right in front of him. Which means he’s not just on time: he was early. Bill frowns. Babe has many, many qualities in life, but God knows punctuality is not on the fucking list. So what the hell brought him in so soon? 

Frowning harder, Bill steps away from the window. He makes his way to the front of the diner, swearing when his right crutch catches on an old chewing gum, but he doesn’t let it distract him for more than a moment. He’s got to figure out what the hell is going on with Babe. He’s sitting at their usual table, at least, but he’s barely paying attention to Doris and her jokes. Bill shoulders the door open without paying it the slightest bit of attention: at the table, Babe’s knee is bouncing so hard it’s threatening to shake the table. Babe’s hair is a mess, too, like he’s been running his hands through it. His usual pale face has gone pasty white, and his finger taps at the tabletop like he’s trying to use morse code.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Bill maneuvers around some dicks hanging out between tables instead of sitting the fuck down, and feels his frown deepen when Babe fucking stands up as he notices him. Stands up—what the fuck is this, a business meal? Come the fuck on. Bill smiles anyway, because it’s Babe and their Thursday dinner is the fucking highlight of his week. Doesn’t mean he turns his eyes off. Or his brain for that matter.  Babe’s palm is sweaty when he grips Bill’s hand. His hug jerky. Babe’s nervous, but what the fuck about is the question?

“How you doing?” Babe asks, a light frown hovering over his brow.

Bill answers, of course, and the conversation proceeds almost like it’s any other Thursday night…except Babe doesn’t fucking relax. He’s jittery and distracted, and the more Bill sees it the more tense he feels himself get in response. He can’t tell what it’s about, is the fucking thing. It’s not a new partner, for sure, or Babe would have spilled the beans already. Ditto: the return of the Doc. Babe and Gene parted on amicable terms last year, if Babe were back with the guy he wouldn’t need to be cautious about announcing it. So, Bill concludes as they discuss his and Babe’s weeks, this isn’t about Babe’s love life.

It’s not about family news, either. Bill had his Ma on the phone this morning, and his ma talks to Anne Heffron every Wednesday during book club. She’d have shared any important news. So, no sick Heffron, no sudden death, nothing like that. Besides, news like that would make Babe look sad, not like he’s about to vibrate off the goddamn couch! And yet the attitude just…persists. Babe jitters as he recounts a frankly uneventful week of essays and uninspiring classes. He taps his finger against the table, his glass, his plate, as he listens to Bill’s anecdotes from the VA. He runs his hands through his hair no less than four times—four times! —while they trade news about their group of friends.

It goes on past their opening beers, past the arrival and clearing of Babe’s red gravy pasta and Bill’s tomato pie, and past the moment Doris comes back to see if they want any dessert. And all the while Bill feels his heart speed up, feels the prickle of sweat under his armpits, the hair standing up at the back of his neck. It starts in a slow simmer, the heat of it rising, and rising, and rising steadily, until Bill snaps.

“Alright, spit it out, Babe.”

Babe’s eyes widen in doe-like surprise, and Bill would chuckle at the sight if he weren’t too busy panicking. It’s not good news, it’s not a death in the family, it’s probably not about Babe’s job—but’s enough to make him look like he’s preparing to be lined up against a wall or something, and not knowing the what’s what is giving Bill the worst fucking case of the jitters.

“Spit what out?” Babe retorts, looking even more caught out.

Bill kicks him under the table.

“What the fuck?” Babe hisses, switching from cornered to annoyed in less than a second. “What was that for?”

“Don’t give me that ‘spit what out’ bullshit,” Bill hisses right back, glaring into Babe’s eyes, “You’re shaking so much I could sit a gal on your leg and charge her for the joy ride, what the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing,” Babe says, and Bill kicks him again. “Ow! Fuck you!”

“Just fucking tell me what’s going on,” Bill demands, feeling his patience unravel at high speed. “You in trouble or something? Do I need to help you hide a body?”

“What? No!” Babe says, switching track again, from annoyance to clear indignation. “Of course you don’t need to help me hide a body! Jesus Christ!”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Bill knows he’s flailing as he asks, hears the faint lisp creeping back into his voice, and could maybe be embarrassed about it, but isn’t. This is freaking Babe, okay? They’ve known each other since they were in diapers! Bill was there for Babe’s first communion, for his first girlfriend, his first heartbreak. He let Babe crash in his bedroom after he came out to his parents and they didn’t take it so good, the two of them watching vines under Bill’s blanket while his Ma went and gave Anne Heffron a stern talking-to about acceptance. Hell, Bill was right there for all of Babe’s story with Gene Roe, from their meeting in college to their amicable break up last year.

What the fuck could Babe be afraid to tell him of all fucking people? Babe can be nervous around his parents, or his brothers, or anybody else all he wants, that shit just happens, but around Bill? Unless—

“Did I do something?” Bill asks after a bit, his frown coming back full force.

“No!” Babe replies immediately. “No, you didn’t do nothing! It’s me, I’m just.”

Babe cuts himself off, and if Bill still had two legs he’d be fucking standing on them because what the fuck else, then? If it’s not something he did or said or—what the fuck is it? But Bill doesn’t have two legs, and getting to your feet on crutches is too slow to look suitably dramatic. And even if he did want to go for it anyway, he wouldn’t have the time to do it because Babe comes to some kind of conclusion in his head: with an explosive sigh, he swipes a hand through his hair and says:

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Careful with that, I hear it’s dangerous,” Bill says automatically.

It makes Babe snort, which brings a smile to Bill’s face. It’s nice, making Babe laugh. Or smile. It’s the best part of spending time with the guy, really. Not that now is the greatest time to indulge in the pastime, but still. At least it makes the tension in Babe’s shoulders loosen.

“Speak for yourself, oldhead,” he says, yelping when Bill swats at him.

Doris comes by with their ice creams and a wink for Babe, which he receives with the perennial embarrassment of one who had a very obvious childhood crush that didn’t go unnoticed. Bill waits for Doris to leave before he makes a kissy face at Babe, which has the unexpected effect of making flush like he’s just spent a hot day at the beach without sunscreen. Normally, the only thing the joke does is make him roll his eyes, and Babe feels himself pout in confusion.

“I’ve been thinking,” Babe repeats, still flushed, his eyes down on the table.

Then he clears his throat and looks back up at Bill with his chin raised, like he’s expecting some kind of argument. Bill has no such thing planned unless Babe doesn’t fucking say what’s on his mind right the fuck now, and he’s about to say as much when Babe finally manages:

“I think we should date.”

What?

“What?”

“I think we should date,” Babe repeats.

Oh good. For a second there, Bill thought he’d heard wrong. Which, to be fair, he doesn’t think he can be blamed for: he didn’t exactly come here expecting his best friend to ask him out! Not that it’s. It’s not. Uh. Bill blinks.

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” Babe says, his tone matter of fact despite the violent red of his ears.

That’s a compelling argument right there. A surprise, really, because Babe’s never really shown any leaning in that direction, but Bill is doing some mental math of his own and he’s not exactly finding any flaws with Babe’s reasoning on that one.

“Because I thought I was lying to my Ma when I told her I wasn’t interested in meeting anyone new, but now I don’t think I was.”

That’s…. Not to be mean to mama Heffron or anything! God knows she and her husband came a long way since Babe was sixteen and stressing out about being thrown out so bad he’d let Bill’s older siblings kick their ass in Overwatch. But the simple truth is that her main criterion for introducing anyone to her son is ‘are they a good Catholic’ which, really. Babe’s best friend is Bill. She should know better. So, yeah, it would have made sense for Babe to just say things to get her off his back.

The fact that he wasn’t—that he’s truly content with his life as is, with Bill as the main fixture of his social circle? Dating or not, that’s one hell of a flattering thing, really, and Bill feels his chest warm up from the inside out at the revelation. His mouth curves into a smile on its own accord. He’s not really interested in stopping it.

“And,” Babe adds after a beat, finger tapping away at the tabletop again, “because I think—I hope. I hope we can stay friends, even if it doesn’t work out.”

“Of course we will,” Bill retorts, indignation pushing out the warm affection from earlier. “The fuck kind of—I fucking told you, Babe. You and me, it’s for life, alright? We’ll still be shooting the shit in the nursing home, you’ll see.”

Babe grins, all traces of apprehension leaving his face, and Bill relaxes in response. ‘I hope we can stay friends’ what kind of fucking—of course they’ll stay friends. The only question left is whether they’ll be fucking married or happy exes by then! Sure, Bill didn’t exactly give it any thought before, but he is now. Giving it some thoughts. He’s giving it the thought that probably most things aren’t gonna change, really. They’ll still be thick as thieves and they’ll still be best friends, and depending on how this thing goes they’ll just add sex and living together and a dog in the mix. And frankly, out of the list, there’s two Bill would be okay to have with Babe even if they don’t make it romantically, so.

“Okay,” he says after a brief moment of silence.

This time, it’s Babe's turn to blink at him.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Bill confirms, grinning in the sharp way that makes Babe chuckle all on its own sometimes. “You’ve convinced me.”

“How romantic,” Babe mocks, rolling his eyes.

He’s grinning back, though, and the flush has moved from his ears to his cheeks—it looks good on him. It’s always looked good on him, the blush and the fucking twinkles in his eyes, and the grin that’s been pulling Bill’s eyes to his mouth for months, really, now that he thinks about it. And he hasn’t thought about it before, not consciously, but as it turns out it’s one of those things Bill knew without knowing he knew them. Like when Babe came out to him all those years ago: Bill hadn’t known but he wasn’t surprised, just like Babe hadn’t known about him but hadn’t been surprised either.

Hell, even Babe’s fucking banter—it’s new but it isn’t. Because alongside the abrupt thrill of a new step, something beautiful and exciting beginning, there’s also the familiarity and the comfort of Babe, and everything they already share. And so it’s with the same challenging grin as ever that Bill retorts:

“You want romantic? How about I walk you back right now and we see how we feel about kissing goodbye?”

Babe doesn’t even pretend to consider it, just straight up rolls his eyes:

“Fine. But next time, I want flowers.”

And it’s funny ‘cause see, here they are: haven’t even made a proper date out of the evening yet, and they’re already planning the second one. But what the hell, it’s Babe: date or not, if he wants flowers he’ll get flowers. So they leave their half melted ice creams on the table along with enough money for the bill and a generous tip, and they walk the two and a half blocks to Babe’s parents’ place. Bill bitches about his crutches the entire time, and Babe tells him he should stop being a baby and get a goddamn knee scooter already, and when they get to their destination they do try out kissing goodbye.

They like it alright.

[gingintigtig]

To give International peeps an idea of what the fuck is happening to the Conservatives in the UK right now, leading up to the July 4th election

In a grand total of only 14 days, the conservatives have done the following on the campaign trail.

Announced the election outside of number 10 in the pouring rain with no plans to use an umbrella or take it inside.

Went to a brewery in Wales and asked if they were looking forward to the summer football, only for staff to respond that Wales didn't make the qualification for the cup.

Person who questioned the PM on Television was actually a plant

Went for an interview at the Titanic Quarter in Belfast and the reporter said "are you captaining a sinking ship into this election?"

This picture.

Promised a return of National Service which OBLITERATED the young vote.

A top Tory minister instead of campaigning went to fucking Greece.

A Tory minister gave up her own seat and told everyone to vote for the Reform candidate instead.

Three Tories defected to a different party.

Did a PR thing involving the PM dribbling a football and someone commented on camera "he's as good at football as he is as being Prime Minister" (he was terrible).

Former Tory minister suggested on Twitter that once he loses the election he would bugger off to California to be a speaker at GOP conferences like other former Tory ministers have done, and he had to furiously deny the allegations.

He said he'll get rid of poor value for money University Courses and when asked which ones, couldn't name a single one.

Announced the election but were nearly 200 candidates short to compete and are scrambling to find some.

Hung the flag upside down in their campaign video, which means we're in distress.

Gave a speech with factory workers, and one woman was so aghast at his bullshit on camera that they sent someone out to stand in-front of her to block her reactions; it has already been satirised.

A high profile conservative MP called a pollster who was live on air, the pollster answered, telling him that he was going to lose his seat by a massive majority. The MP didn't say anything and just hung up. Again, this was LIVE ON AIR.

They went campaigning in Hanley, and in the river behind them, the Liberal Democrat party very slowly sailed by on a little boat. The camera man panned the camera away from the prime minister to focus on the Liberals in the boat slowly sailing down the river.

A new poll shows that for the first time in decades, if not over a century, the Conservatives could be in third place, with Labour (Social Democrat) and the Liberal Democrats becoming the top two parties.

I hope you've been keeping count here, because it's been fourteen days and that is 18 pieces of terrible publicity.

[hhoonii]

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ WHEN + WHY ENHYPEN STARTED LIKING THEIR IDOL! S/O

pairing: idol!enhypen x fem idol!reader, genre: fluff, requested!! enha realizing they're down bad

— heeseung

when he saw you perform

he was absolutely stunned by your stage presence. you carried yourself with so much confidence that it was hard to not notice you. the way your hair swayed in the air whenever you moved and the way your lips curved into a smile did things to him more than he liked to admit. after finding out your name, he was guilty of looking you up on google and stalking your instagram. the members would hear him giggling, and they would instantly know it was because he was watching videos of you.

— jay

when both of you appeared on a variety show together

it just so happened that you two had to be paired up for the whole episode. literally. connected by a bracelet, you had to walk, eat, do missions— everything together. he didn’t think much about it at first, but he found himself smiling when he saw you skip so excitedly, dragging him with you. and when you wiped the bit of pasta sauce off his lips, his heart started beating a little faster. your chemistry with him was off the charts, and all he wished was for your on-screen romance to become a reality.

— jake

when you filmed a tiktok together

he thought you were cute trying to learn the choreo for “XO”. you couldn’t quite get the hand movements right, prompting him to gently touch and guide your hands. maybe it was the close proximity, the warmth of your hands, or the way your eyes met, but there was this unexplainable tension that filled the room. he quickly looked away, hoping you didn’t see the creeping blush on his face. although the filming went smoothly, he kept replaying those moments with you in his head.

— sunghoon

when both of you were special mcs

seeing how pretty you are up close made something spark in his heart. he kept stealing glances at you while you were practicing your lines. he chuckled at the slight pout you would make when you made a mistake, which you playfully glared at him for. the first thing he did after the show was look on social media to see if fans captured any cute moments between you two. normally idols want to avoid being shipped with other idols, but the idea didn't sound too bad to him if it was with you.

— sunoo

when he saw you with another male idol

you two have been close friends since childhood. your friendship was well known in the industry, and strictly platonic. it wasn’t until he saw you talking and laughing with another male idol that he started to feel a little jealous. that guy didn’t know what makes you laugh most, nor your deepest secrets like he did. and why was he leaning so close to you? he wanted to brush his feelings aside, but imagining you with someone else didn’t sit right with him...

— jungwon

when he saw you practicing

back in his pre-debut days, you were his sworn enemy. you two competed for the top trainee spot, always trying to one up each other. after both of you debuted, one day he peered into your practice room window, but something felt wrong. watching you as an idol made him suddenly see you in a different light. your messy hair no longer looked stupid, but rather hot. your annoying voice was now something that made him feel giddy just hearing it. he could deny it as much as he wanted to, but the heart never lies.

— ni-ki

when you did a collab stage together

he was already aware you were one of the best dancers in the idol industry, so he looked forward to working with you. but what impressed him was how you were so kind to him, always looking after him and complimenting him. he remained calm up until the choreography that required your faces to be mere centimeters apart. you had to be in his arms, maintaining eye contact, but he couldn’t look at you without internally panicking. you were attractive, and he wondered how one could be so perfect inside and out.

[cvnntagious]

Girls | M. Sturniolo

"Fuck your ex-man, I'm the man now / Think I feel bad? He was fanned out." -The Kid Laroi

pairing : Exesbsf!Matt x Fem!Reader

summary : What happens when you finally break it off with your cheating hoe of an ex, only to quickly find out his best friend can easily treat you better?

warnings : use of y/n, drinking, swearing, random ex bf name, slight chris x tara mention (i don't ship them, it's js for the plot), smut, bigdick!matt, gentle sex, body praising, 18+

a/n : this took a long time to finish, so sorry to anyone who was waiting for it. this fic was requested by my friend lily 👅 if anyone has any requests/ideas, feel free to dm me on here or put it in my ask box! (or feel free to just say anything, i get bored a lot so i'll answer fs)

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

You weren't exactly enthusiastic about this party, unlike most parties you ran around at over the past few years, earning you the title of LA's number one party girl. You usually loved the loud buzz of chatter muffled by the music, and the blinding lights filling large houses. This time was different. You couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling.

It'd only been about two weeks since you broke up with your ex boyfriend, and you'd already seen him posted up with multiple girls, seemingly loving the single life. Not like this was anything new though. It was the reason you'd dumped his cheating ass. Didn't mean it hurt any less though.

When you were invited to this big influencer party by a mutual friend, you immediately knew Cole would be there too. The thought of bumping into him alone was enough to make you reluctant to attend. Even so, you were expected to attend, just like you did almost every other party. Lord did you wish you could just get a break.

As you scoped out the party, eyes scanning the crowd while you slowly inched into it, you took small sips of your cooler. It didn't take long for you to find what you were looking for, your ex sitting on the couch with a girl under his arm as he spoke inaudibly to his friends around him. You had to rip your eyes away from him, honestly just glad you knew what part of the house you'd have to avoid for now as you pushed through the crowd to figure out what could be in the opposite direction.

It took a few minutes for you to make it to the kitchen because of all the people you had to excuse yourself past, but when you finally made it, slightly out of breath from the sweaty bodies thickening the air on the way there, you gawked at the display of large bottles set up all around you. "Someone came prepared." You heard a familiar voice say from behind you, causing you to turn your attention to him with a small chuckle.

"These parties never have the drinks I like, Chris," You replied defensively, placing a hand on your hip as you held your can of alcohol up to show him.

Chris couldn't help but chuckle with you. "Yeah?" He hummed, grabbing the can out of your hand to taste before making a sour expression, sticking out his tongue with a pant for dramatics, "Maybe that's 'cause nobody likes Smirnoffs." He handed your drink back to you with a small burp.

You rolled your eyes at the display, wiping the rim of your drink with your finger to rid it of Chris' saliva. "Clearly I do."

"All this alc in front you and you still somehow find a way to be picky," He replied teasingly before grabbing your wrist to guide you with him, "Come on. Me, Nick, and Tara are chillin' outside."

You couldn't help but giggle at the way he dragged you out of the sliding glass door with him, not caring for the people who'd tried to get your attention along the way to the pool. You smiled as Tara let out a loud squeal at the sight of you, instantly wrapping her arms around you as Chris let go of your wrist. "I knew you'd make it!" She exclaimed as she pulled back, holding your arms to take in your outfit, "And who are you trying to impress, girl? I'm loving this slutty look!"

If that comment had came from anyone but Tara, it would've been offensive. But of course, you knew what she'd meant. You smiled, giving her a quick pose at her words as you stuck your tongue out playfully. "Fuckk man, I guess I was just feelin' extra slutty tonight. You really like?" You played along, holding Tara's hand as she nodded.

"I do too," Nick chimed in, smiling as he placed a hand on your shoulder, "It's so cunt."

You turned to look at Nick excitedly, "Bitch, says you!" You looked at Nick's white and black outfit, topped with his iconic Cheetah print hat.

"What about me?" Chris asked, clearly feeling left out as he turned to us with a drink that had seemingly appeared in his hand.

You giggled. "You look great, Chris."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" Nick asked in a disappointed tone, snatching the drink from his brothers hand. "I thought we agreed you'd only have a few drinks tonight — the party just started."

Chris rolled his eyes, "I have only had a few... And then I'll have a few more later on in the night"

"Hey, where's Matt at?" You cut Nick off before he could say anything as soon as you noticed Matt wasn't with the three of them when you'd made your way over, hoping to stop the brother's argument before it started, "Did he not wanna come again?"

Nick, Tara, and Chris gave each other a look as tension instantly built up high in the air. A silence had fallen over the group of friends as they looked anywhere but at you. "He's... with a friend," Chris finally spoke up, clearly nervous.

You gave them a suspicious look before smiling. "Who? I wanna go say hi to Matt," You replied, your tone as bubbly as before to pretend you hadn't noticed the shift in their demeanors.

"It's-" Nick started, hesitant to finish as he forced out a small chuckle, "I'll just call him and tell him to get over here. I'm sure he wants to say hi to you too." Nick pulled out his phone and dialed Matt before you could even respond, plugging the ear his phone wasn't hovering over to drown out the music as he took a small step away.

You were silent for a moment as you looked back at Chris and Tara, who were both already looking at you for tour reaction. Tara cleared her throat after a moment. "Are you planning on getting laid tonight or what? You haven't been single in, like, two years," She finally said happily, stepping into you to hook her arm around yours and pull you away from Chris.

You chuckled, shaking your head at the way she joked around with you. "Planning on it? No," You looked down at her, unable to help admitting, "But I wouldn't be mad if I did.'

"Perfect! The first time we've been single at the same time," Tara spoke a little louder than she'd intended, "Maybe we can both go crazy in the rooms next to each other." She teased, glancing back at Chris, who was sipping his drink obliviously.

You gasped, "You have to be kidding." You tried hard to give her an unamused look, only to smile at her stupid jokes anyways.

She raised her hands as if to claim innocence while she laughed loudly at her own words. "I am, I am. I swear!"

Almost immediately after, you felt an arm wrap around your neck, putting you in a loose headlock as your drink splashed all over your cute, extremely revealing top. "Don't be over here eyedfucking my brother, Tara." Matt hadn't even noticed the spill. You gasped again, this time not because of a playful joke. He finally looked down to see your drink all over you. "Shit, sorry! I didn't mean to," Matt said from behind you, letting you free from his grasp.

You turned towards Matt with a small groan, looking down at your wet shirt. "Always with the stupid shit, Matthew," You complained, looking up into his tired blue eyes.

"Matthew? What are you, my mother?" He noked with a nervous chuckle, though he really did feel bad for soaking your shirt. "I'll help you clean up... let's go."

You rolled your eyes at him as he walked past you, causing you to follow him back into the house. You placed your hand on top of his shoulder to decrease the risk of losing him as he pushed through the crowd of hot bodies for you, nodding his head whenever he made eye contact with someone he knew. As you guys made your way through the living room, you heard the voice you'd been praying wouldn't all night. Cole. "Matt!" He called out, practically screaming over the music, making Matt slow his pace and flick his gaze up to your ex, who was still sitting on the couch only a few feet away.

Matt glanced back at you as you bumped into him, surprised when he'd stopped in front of the couch. "Come hit this," Cole spoke again, holding up a half smoked joint to Matt.

You poked your head out from behind Matt, scowling at the douchbags face. His eyes widened in surprise, his face twisting in confusion before he looked up to meet Matts tight-lipped expression, clearly unwilling to respond to Cole's offer. "What's up, man?" Cole let out a cocky chuckle as he threw he head back for a moment, "You were just hangin' with us and now you're sneaking behind my back with the girl who dumped me like I was some bitch a few weeks back?"

"Sneaking?" Matt questioned, "We're right in front of you."

"What happened to bros before hoes?"

"Hoes? You didn't date her for two years?" Matt replied begrudgingly, unable to contain his smalk smirk, "I spilled a drink on her... Was gonna clean her up, nothing more."

You looked up at Matt, who had defensiveness radiating off of him as he spoke calmly to his close friend. 'So that's why they didn't wanna tell me where he was. He was with Cole,' You thought, your attention switching between the two as they spoke tensely to each other.

Cole sighed, "Yeah, whatever dude. Fuck her if you want, I moved on." He says, laughing as he looks to his right, where a beautiful girl sat prettily under his arm. You grimaced, wondering if he'd do the same to the girl as he did to you.

You didn't have much time to wonder though, Matt gently slinging his arm over your shoulder before you pulling you back on his way. "Clearly, you whore," Matt mumbled as the two of you walked away, thinking you couldn't hear the way he spoke about his supposed best friend.

━━★

And now here you were, standing in a random persons bedroom as Matt stood in front of you. The hunger in his eyes was apparent, but he moved slow. His hands gently grabbed your waist, his thumbs caressing the skin underneath them in circles. "Lift your shirt. We'll hang it to dry." He urged in a soft tone, tugging at the wet fabric.

Your shirt wasn't the only thing wet though. You thought to ask him if you should hang your panties to dry too, but you were too absorbed in his small facial movements. The way he licked his pink lips. Or how his eyes refused to break from yours. You lifted your arms like a toddler, allowing Matt to curl the bottom of the shirt in his hands and lift it over your head.

"You know I knew, right?" He asked as he turned his back to you, hanging your shirt on the top of the door to the walk-in closet in this large room he'd found for you two.

"Knew what?" You asked. You both spoke questly, just above the sound of the muffled music two floors below, as if someone would hear you.

"He was cheating," Matt admitted, "God, I feel awful. I should've told you."

He walked back over to you, genuine sympathy written all over his face as you furrowed your brows at him. "I just... You're both my friends - or were - I didn't know how to tell you without all the drama," He further explained, sort of rambling before he met your eyes again, "And your heart— I wanted him to be the one to break it. Alone. Without me involved"

"Matt, it's oka-"

"So I could be the one to stitch it up," Matt cut you off, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your neck, "I'll show you how he was supposed to make you feel."

Matt wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him to suck little red marks on your lower neck and exposed collar bone. His soft lips on your neck was enough to have you panting, only to let out a surprised hum when they connected with yours. You lifted your arms to wrap around his neck as he slowly lowered you on the bed behind you.

Matt broke the kiss as soon as you were placed comfily on the bed. "I wish our first time wasn't at a party," He said, a little timid as he reached into his back pocket to pull out a condom, "I'd much rather you were laid up in my bed. I'd prefer if there wasn't the nagging feeling of needing to rush, so I could take my time. I just can't help myself... You do want this too, don't you?" Matt rambled on, looking into something that you'd originally thought would be a one time thing. But it seems Matt has other plans.

You couldn't help but giggle at the way his face flushed like a highschool preparing to have sex for the first time, nodding at his question. "Was this planned?" You joked, lazily pointing at the condom he'd taken out.

"This?" Matt started, looking to the condom you'd pointed at before shying away from it, "Oh, no! I'm just— parties, ya know? I'm a safe guy."

"Right." You lifted yourself so you where sitting on the edge of the bed, Matt standing between your legs. "Take it off," You stuck your finger into his belt loop, tugging him forward gently.

He only gave you and eager nod, following you as you scooted back on the big king sized bad, practically ripping his belt out of the loops once he had it unbuckled. His pants slid off of him the further up the bed he got, revealing the almost pulsating bulge in his loose underwear. You laid your head back on the pillow, Matt hoovering over you with an awestruck look on his face as he scanned your half-dressed form.

Matt slipped a hand under your back, unclipping your bra with one hand as he kept his eyes glued to yours. Embarrassingly enough, he let out a quiet gasp when your bra fell loose, lifting it off your chest with two fingers. Your nipples were already hard with arousal, but if they hadn't been, they would've hardened from the cold air hitting them. "You're perfect," Matt let slip, almost whining at the sight.

The uncomfortable feeling in his boxers only grew stronger when he saw you flushed before him, instinctively reaching down to palm himself to relieve some of that tension. You swiftly grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements. "Just fuck me, Matt, no foreplay needed. I'm already soaked," You told him hurridly, not wanting to waste time. To be fair, he said it himself, there was a need to rush here.

It didn't take long for Matt to free his length from his boxers, your eyes widening at the sight. He was huge. Bigger than you'd ever seen. Not only long, but girthy, and veiny. If you had to guess, he was a good 8½ inches. Beads of precum had already built up on his angry pinkish-red tip, causing him to spread it with his thumb and a hiss.

He looked up, gaze met with your gawking before he reached to remove your short jean shorts. He couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips when he revealed your soaked underwear, feeling pride in how wet he could make you without even touching you where you craved him most. He sat up again, crouching between your legs before leaning in to rub his member against your clothed clit.

You mewled at the friction muted by the fabric as he stroked himself against you, enjoying the teasing. Your hand reached up to caress his tattooed arm that rested on your thigh, forcing him to look up at you. He gave you a bashful smile at the way you furrowed your brows, then sliding his fingers under your panties and pulling them to the side to reveal your small cunt that leaked your juices.

He rubbed himself against you again, this time sliding between your folds. Your clit practically buzzed, cunt aching to be fucked. Matt leaned down to kiss your inner thigh, "You're so fucking sexy, baby, fuck. This perfect body," Matt praised, his tone desperate as he contined to tease agonizingly slow, "How could someone ever think there's something better than this out there?"

"Will it fit?" You asked, not meaning to stroke his ego as you looked down at the way just his shaft spread your lips wide with each stroke between them.

"Will it fit?" Matt echoed, unable to contain his laughter. "I'll make it fit," He assured you, pulling his length back to rip open the mangnum packaging labeled 'large' with his teeth and slide it on effortlessly.

Quickly, Matt went back to stroking his length between your folds, sliding just your tip in every now and then. You whimpered desperately, which only made Matt want to tease you more. He couldn't help himself, he just needed to hear those sweet noises. "Please, Matt. I want more," You pleaded, looking at him with begging eyes as you squirmed more and more beneath him.

Finally, he began slowly pushing himself into you. Your jaw went slack as he stretched you out in ways no one had before, careful not to dive in too fast in hopes to keep it as painless as possible. Your knees bent on either side of him as he groaned. "Fuck, you're so tight," Matt heaved, bottoming out, "I needed this– shit."

You panted beneath him, looking fucked out already. Matt waited for your nod before slowly pumping in and out of you with one hand on your hip as the other pulled your thong to the side. You squinted in pain at first before it slowly turned to pleasure, causing you to let out long moans. Your sounds let Matt know you were really ready for him, picking up his pace as time went on.

Moans began filling the room as your perfect tits bounced in front of your face. Matt lowered himself into them, not stopping his deep, sensual thrusts as he sucked on the skin of your chest between your boobs gently. One hand reached up to take your soft boob in it, kneeding it a bit before he attached his mouth to it. He swirled your hardened bud with his tongue as you moaned, both of your breathing becoming ragged.

You felt that familiar knot in your stomach, tembling a bit under his touch. He took his mouth from your nipple with a 'pop', itting back up straight to see your eyes screwed shit and one side of your face in the pillow under your head as he fucked into you. The image alone was enough to make him bust then and there, but he knew he had to wait. Your pretty sounds grew louder as his pace picked up, bringing you closer to the edge. "Fuck, Matthew! I'm- I'm so close. So fucking close," You babbled out, unable to open your eyes.

"Matthew?" He grunted, chuckling like he'd done earlier that night. Of course, under different circumstances. "I love it." No one ever called him by his full name, and he'd kill for you to be the only one.

Soon after, you reached your climax, practically screaming as you repeated his name like it were a prayer. "Matt," You chanted as he fucked you through your orgasm, cumming himself not long after with a loud groan.

Matt pulled out slowly and plopped on the bed beside you as the two of you caught your breath, both staring up at the white ceiling. Matt's length slowly softened, still fairly large, to your surprise.

"Who would've thought Matthew Sturniolo had an absolute chopper?" You teased as soon as you caught your breath enough, finally looking at him beside you.

Matt gave you a quick chuckle, rolling his eyes lightheartedly as he forced himself off the aide of the bed, standing up to grab your guys' disgarded clothing. "Whatever. Here, put these back on." He threw your clothes back onto you, including your now mostly dry shirt.

"I mean, seriously. And he knows how to use it?" You continued on as you sat up in bed. "What's the rush with this?" You picked up your bra, reaching an arm out to put it on.

Matt shook his head in embarrassment. "You haven't go to dance yet tonight," He explained as he slid his boxers back on, "It's what you usually do, and I wanna join you."

dt : @mattsturnihoe

[starfinss]

ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ — ʀᴏʀᴏɴᴏᴀ ᴢᴏʀᴏ

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: One Piece

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Roronoa Zoro + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7,375

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again.

Storms were the worst.

You used to love them, before you became a pirate. You found contentment in listening to them; the musical sound of rain against the window, thunder growling overhead, lulling you to sleep. Peaceful. That’s what you thought of them. There was a certain kind of incomparable coziness that came with laying tucked into bed while a storm raged outside. You were inside, warm and dry, in your own little bubble of warmth.

But that was then, and this was now. 

You knew you were in trouble when the sky had been blood red that morning, indicating the coming storm. It was just like the old mariner’s rhyme said, though thanks to Nami, you now knew the science behind it. Something about how the red color came from high water content in the atmosphere. You couldn’t remember the exact words she’d said.

Science or no, storms spelled trouble for sailors of any kind, even the kind that engaged in certain illegal activities such as piracy. Life was easy when the water was calm and the weather cooperated. Storms were a complication, and this one was no exception.

The low visibility, torrential rain, and rough water forced the Merry to dock at a tiny island town you didn’t even catch the name of, with you and the other Straw Hats left to find a motel or some other form of lodgings, since the rocking of the ship was making it hard to even stand up straight, let alone fall asleep. 

And that led you to now. Drenched and miserable, and standing in the shabby lobby of the town’s motel. 

“A room for six, please.”

The clerk looked at your captain for a moment before speaking.

“For six, sir?”

Luffy whirled around, counting the group out on his fingers before facing the clerk again. 

“Yep,” he said, and even unable to see his face, you knew he was grinning. “Six. One bed should do.”

Nami looked at Luffy in askance, clearing her throat. 

“Sorry about him, he’s an idiot,” she said, “how about six individual rooms?”

“A waste of Berry,” Luffy countered, waving off the navigator, “just give us the biggest bed you have.”

Nami sighed, running her hand through her hair, which was plastered to her forehead with rainwater. Your own was no different.

“Luffy, there’s absolutely no way we can all fit in one bed,” Nami said, then turned to the clerk, “we’ll take six rooms, if you have them available.”

The clerk nodded, clearly pleased with Nami’s much more reasonable request, turning his back to the group to check a clipboard. 

“We have five available, miss,” he said, “four with singles, one with a double.”

A hush fell over the crew as you took in the information. You chewed your lip. This was fine. You could just share with Nami. You were both women, so it made sense that way. Plus, you knew she didn’t snore, so you’d get a comfortable night’s sleep. You were just about to say something about this when Luffy beat you to it. 

“Who wants to share with me?”

Nami didn’t even look at him. “Not happening.”

Luffy wilted. “Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not?’”

Luffy looked offended. “I’m great at sharing beds!”

You figured this was as good a time as any to bring your idea up. “Nami—”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Nami said, more to Luffy than you, “you guys figure it out. I need a shower.”

“Wait, Nami,” you tried again, but she was already turning away, disappearing down the hall after collecting a key from the clerk, leaving you dumbstruck. 

Usopp gave you a look of sympathy. You appreciated that, even if it didn’t fix anything.

“Let her go,” he said, “she’s the one who navigated us through the storm to this island. She deserves her own bed.”

He was right, but that didn’t remove you from the awkward spot you were in. Your wet clothing was starting to get cold, and you were beginning to shiver, so it was suddenly less important who you may end up sharing with. 

“I’m still okay with sharing,” Luffy said, oblivious to any awkwardness, “anyone?”

You chewed your lip. You didn’t want to share with Luffy, and no offense to Usopp, but you weren’t all that keen about sharing with him either. He was your friend and you cared for him, but being that close in proximity with him would just be awkward. Sanji was similar in that regard. 

And that left Zoro. 

Zoro was different. 

You weren’t entirely sure how to define your relationship with the swordsman. It didn’t start off as smooth sailing, for lack of better terms. From the moment you met, you were constantly bickering. He was just as hard headed as you were, resulting in anything from petty spats to full blown arguments. The unstoppable force meets the immovable object, though it was hard to tell just who was what in that regard. 

Then the ‘incident’ happened, and things got even more complicated.

You shook yourself from your thoughts. You were too tired to deal with stupid feelings and the way Zoro’s eyes were boring into the back of your head. He had to be thinking exactly the same thing as you, and the thought of that simultaneously pissed you off and made your stomach twist in confusing knots. 

“I’ll take one for the team,” you said, breaking yourself from your thoughts, “one of you shares with me. It’s up to you which one it is. I’m going to take a shower.”

Without another word, you grabbed the key to the room with the double from the clerk, stalking off down the hall.

You jammed the key into the keyhole, stepping inside the room after you reached the door. It was a small room, a little shabby, but clean enough. The bed was on the left wall, centered beneath a painting of either a whale or some kind of indistinct mythical creature, you were unable to tell. The wooden floor was covered with a well worn striped carpet. The far wall was mostly taken up by a lumpy-looking red sofa, as well as two windows, both rather small and covered by threadbare curtains the color of watered down mud. Everything in the room had a sort of well-used air to it. As you entered, you got rid of your boots, leaving them by the door to dry out. 

All you’d brought along was yourself and a small rucksack with a nightdress you’d grabbed from your things, as well as a fresh change of clothing for the morning. You were starting to smell like fish and brine, so you made your way to the incredibly cramped bathroom connected to the room, quickly peeling off your clothes. 

Your skin was cold as you turned on the water in the standing shower, and you shuddered as you stepped under it. Thank God for the hot water. You half-expected it to be cold, which wasn’t uncommon in backwater motels like this one.

There was a half-full bottle of shampoo, seemingly left over from the last guest, and you hesitated to use it, but you also didn’t want to go to bed smelling like the worst parts of the ocean, so you squeezed some into your palm, lathering it into your hair. 

You knew what you were doing. You knew exactly who would follow you into this room. You groaned inwardly, your forehead thudding against the tile wall of the shower. You blamed that stupid jammed door for all of this. You blamed the idiot at the bar who hit on you, and the alcohol, and everything that led up to you being trapped in a closet with Zoro while bounty hunters trashed the building looking for your crew. 

Because that stupid series of events were what made you realize you had feelings for Zoro. And now things were weird. 

Silence filled by bickering was left empty and awkward, and the way Zoro kept looking at you when he thought you couldn't see didn’t help at all. Neither did the way his hands would linger on your waist if he passed you, just a brush of his fingers, sending electric shocks up your spine. And neither did the way he’d rest a palm on your thigh when you sat beside him at the dinner table. Nami was the first to notice the shift, though it was Sanji who deduced that something had happened between the two of you when you were shut in that closet, not that you’d ever tell him what it was, despite all his prying.

And something had. 

You remembered the buzz of alcohol fading as you bickered aimlessly, pressed closer than comfortable as Zoro struggled with the door. You remembered the way you snapped, something about how confusing he was being, and then he was gathering you into his arms, crushing his lips against yours, and how he’d crowded you against the wall behind you soon after. You remembered how his hands felt, drifting down your body to grab at your hips, how his tongue tasted like the whiskey he’d been drinking before, and how just his touch alone made you feel like you were losing your mind.

He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again. 

That was one week ago. You’d been in the kitchen, fixing yourself a sandwich late at night when Zoro appeared with the same idea. It started with you trying to bring up the closet incident, and ended with you caged against the countertop by Zoro’s arms, his mouth hot against yours, your fingers in his hair. 

And that wasn’t spoken of, either. 

You wanted to talk to him about it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. You’d tried to approach Zoro about it, only to either chicken out, or end up with even more questions. It was incredibly strange, not only because it was out of character for Zoro to beat around the bush, but also because he seemed just as awkward as you were about it all. 

Maybe this would force his hand, you supposed. Or maybe he’d ignore you, though that was unlikely for obvious reasons, and you’d end up spending the night in the same bed as Luffy or something.

Through the thrum of the running water, you heard the door to the main room open, then close again. You couldn’t hear anything else, however, and whoever had just entered didn’t bother to announce their presence, but you were already pretty sure you knew who it was. You took a breath before turning off the shower, wringing out your hair before stepping out.

You toweled yourself dry before finger combing your hair, making sure to get rid of any knots before putting on your underwear and pulling your nightgown on over your head. 

You opened the bathroom door, pausing briefly when you saw Zoro sitting on the bed, busy unlacing his boots. He turned to look at you when you entered, clearly intending to only spare a glance, but his gaze lingered, doing a full sweep of your body. You suddenly felt self-conscious, tugging the bottom of your nightgown down further.

You shook it off. This was fine. You had him alone now. He had no way of escaping the discussion that needed to happen. 

With a breath, you circled the bed, sitting down with your back to him.

“We need to talk,” you said, “no more avoiding it.”

Zoro said nothing. You heard a soft thud as he tossed his boots away, followed by the rustle of fabric. 

“Zoro,” you said, “I’m serious.”

“Can we do this another time?” He said, finally, and you sighed, annoyed.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like it right now.”

You turned around to face him finally. He was standing now, and wearing less clothing than when he’d first entered the room. His shirt was gone, as was the haramaki he usually wore. The latter was laid out on the nightstand alongside his swords, the former clutched in one of his hands. You didn’t blame him for taking it off, it was surely soaked with rainwater, but him being shirtless really wasn’t helpful at the moment. Infuriatingly, you felt heat rising to your cheeks. 

“I don’t care,” you said, “you haven't ‘felt like it’ in two fucking weeks. We made out, Zoro. Twice. Plus… everything else. That happened. We can’t pretend it didn’t.”

“We did,” Zoro said, crossing to the bathroom. He left the door open as he wrung his shirt out into the sink, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“There,” he said, “we talked about it. Are we done?”

You rose to your feet, arms crossed. “No. I need to know why. I need to know what that meant.”

Zoro turned to face you, leaning back against the sink basin. “What do you think it means?”

You tossed your hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. You kissed me. Both times.”

He shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant, his face as impassive as always, though something about him was unmistakably smug. “I did.”

Zoro folded the shirt over the edge of the sink, moving to lean in the doorway. You cleared your throat, taking a step forward as well.

“Is that a problem?” He continued, eyes lifting at the corners in taunting mirth, “it didn’t seem like it at the time.”

“If it’s this easy to acknowledge it, why didn’t you talk about it at all? You got jealous, Zoro.”

Another shrug. Then a scoff, a near laugh, as he pushed off the doorframe to cross over to you. 

“I did,” he said, “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Don’t tell me you’d rather have been in that closet with that stupid drunk rather than me. Or that you’d rather be with someone else in that kitchen. Or, y’know. Everything else.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

A flash of mischief appeared in his dark eyes. “So you liked kissing me?”

You avoided his gaze, displeased with the way he’d taken control of the situation. “That isn’t the point. The point is—”

But you didn’t get to finish. Because before you could even finish being annoyed with him, Zoro was grabbing you by the shoulders, pressing his mouth to yours. It was a chaste, quick kiss, but it still left you speechless and reeling.

“And what about that one?”

You blinked, your thoughts a jumble of nonsense.  “Still not the point,” you managed, “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, Zoro, this isn’t—”

Another kiss, deeper this time. You gasped in surprise, fighting back the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Stupid, infuriating man, doing stupid, confusing things to you. You pressed your hand against his chest, pushing him gently, just to get a word in before he pulled you back in.

“Zoro,” you said, “what do you want?”

“You,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Fuck it. Fuck this, fuck him. This stupid moss-headed moron was messing with you, he had to be, and you could tell from the way he was smiling at you, crooked and devious, like the cat that got the cream. He liked seeing your confusion and uncertainty. He’d just been waiting for this, for you to snap. You stared at him furiously and wild-eyed before it was your turn to pull him in, your mouth colliding with his. 

Zoro’s hands rose to cup your cheeks, then shifted down to land on your waist, and you were moving, back colliding with the wall beside the bed. He tasted like whiskey again, which was puzzling since he hadn’t had any to drink that you knew of, though, knowing him, he probably had a flask stowed somewhere. 

It was almost a relief to kiss him, like a salve being applied to a burn, and you had to stop yourself from crying out as his hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing, his knee pressing at the close of your thighs. Zoro had been like a cat before, playing with his prey. Now he was going in for the kill. 

But two could play at that game. 

You slid your hands down from where they’d been folded behind his neck, flattening against his strong chest. Your fingers trailed down the defined muscle, pressing into the dips and curves of his abdominals, finally catching on the waistband of his trousers. Your thumb dipped into the ridge of muscle at his waist, nail scraping gently against the warm skin, and you felt him shudder, breath catching. 

His hand caught your wrist, with no particular strength, but enough to warn you of what you were getting yourself into. You responded by taking his lower lip between your teeth, tugging gently before linking your mouths together again. You knew what your were doing, and you knew what would happen if you riled him up more.

That did it. Zoro sighed against your mouth, a slow release of breath that seemed to display his rapidly fraying restraint, especially as you twisted your wrist free of his grip, fingers trailing up his sides, making him shiver. His grip on your hips tightened, the fabric of your nightgown bunching between his fingers, causing the garment to ride up, but you hardly cared, not when his knee was slotting itself between your thighs, pressing flush against your clothed cunt. 

The slow, easy grind made you gasp into Zoro’s mouth, hips twitching, but he was holding you down, firm against the wall, still an utterly infuriating tease, even now. You retaliated by palming him through his trousers, slow and deliberate, and he broke the kiss to look at you, breath heavy, gaze heated.

“You sure you wanna do that?” He warned, “you’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like getting burned,” you shot back, defiant.

Amusement danced in his dark eyes, his lip catching between his teeth as he fought a smile, and it was then that you noticed his face was flecked with countless freckles, a constellation across his cheeks. Absently, you wanted to kiss each and every one of them.

But the thought was ejected from your mind as he was kissing you again, tongue pressing into your mouth, and your fingers found his hair as he pulled your leg up to rest against his hip. Then his hand was between your thighs, broad palm against your clothed center, fingers pressing against the rapidly dampening fabric, dragging so slowly that it made you crazy, but his opposite hand was still holding you in place, unwavering, even as you squirmed in his hold.

Zoro’s fingers slid to your clit, pressing through the fabric of your panties, making you gasp into his mouth, the sound devolving into a low moan as he pressed again, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. He kissed you deeper, slower still, making you arch into him as his hand tightened its grip on your hip, pushing the fabric of your nightgown up higher, then sliding beneath to touch your bare skin. 

Fuck, the feel of his palm, rough and worn and calloused, against your flesh, it felt like perfection, and your body twisted as his fingers pressed against the bend of your waist, his touch like a simmering heat. 

“Touch me,” you blurted, muffled by his mouth, and he pulled back to look at you, amused.

“Aren’t I already doing that, doll?”

Your defiance was draining away more and more as the seconds ticked by, especially at the sound of his voice. It was a low, rough sound, husky and heated, and it made suffocating arousal shoot down your spine. It was almost embarrassing just how quickly he’d gotten you like this, only with his hands and stupid, smart mouth. 

“You know what I mean, jerk,” you shot back, but he simply chuckled, fingers sliding away from your clit to press at your entrance, pushing the fabric of your panties against your heated skin. 

You squirmed, but he held you still, his grip like iron on your body. You felt his breath against your skin, making you shudder, one hand gripping at his wrist, the one between your legs. His mouth brushed against the curve of your shoulder, dragging up the column of your throat, teeth grazing the spot just beneath your jaw, and you almost felt lightheaded. 

His fingers pressed against your panties again, aided well by the wetness that was soaking through the fabric, causing your body to jolt in his hold, back arching against the wall when his index finger circled your clit again. 

“Zoro,” you gasped, fighting for control, “please.”

“Please?” He rumbled, “‘please’ what?”

Your head fell back against the wall, eyes squeezing closed as he pressed down against your clit. Fuck, how were you already so wet? His mouth skated down your throat to your collarbone, teeth grazing your skin before you felt his tongue dart out, dipping lower, towards the top of your already low-cut nightgown.

“Just take them off,” you blurted, head swimming, “do it properly.”

Instead of doing what you said, he simply pushed the fabric aside, but before you could counter, his fingers were dragging along your cunt, teasing, and you let out a low whine. His mouth attached itself to your throat, teeth sinking into the tender flesh and making you cry out. His tongue smoothed over the spot he’d bitten before repeating the action. 

Slowly, his fingers sank inside of you, and your hands were grasping at his hair, making him groan against your skin, a sound that only riled you up further. He moved away from your throat to rest his forehead against yours, and when your eyes fluttered closed, he crooked his fingers inside of you, forcing a cry from your throat.

“Eyes on me,” he whispered, “don’t look away.”

A flush of arousal flooded your system at the request, and you realized how much of a struggle fulfilling it was as he began to move. His fingers were able to reach much deeper than your own were, not to mention that they were thicker. The slow, almost tortuous pace he’d adopted made the friction of his rough palm against your clit even sweeter. 

Gasping, breathless, your hands curled around his forearms as you clambered for any kind of purchase, anything to keep you anchored. Your eyes were still locked with his, leaving you unable to hide the flush on your cheeks, the desperation in your gaze. 

His eyes were growing wild. Famished and dark as midnight, his gaze slid down your body to what he was doing between your legs, and you watched in rapture as his lips parted, drawing a shuddering, stricken breath at the sight. You squeezed his arm, forcing him to look up at you.

“Don’t break your own rule,” you said, voice heated, and amusement flashed on his face.

“Minx,” he countered, palm grinding against your clit, and you let out a startled moan.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, “that’s what I wanna hear.”

You groaned, both in pleasure and in frustration. “Then go faster.”

He chuckled, full lips pulling into a roguish half smile. 

“Oh no,” he said, fingers curling inside of you, making your back arch, “I intend on taking my time with you. You have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you make me feel? I wanna savor this.”

His thumb moved to your clit, rubbing in slow circles, and you bit your lip to muffle your gasp of pleasure. This was embarrassing. You were so defiant before, but some pretty words and his stupid, pretty hands were enough to make all of that crumble.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bite back. 

One of your hands slid down his chest again, fumbling with his belt before tugging it off. He was already hard, something evident through the fabric of his slacks, and when you pressed your palm against him, you got the pleasure of hearing him gasp.

You tugged at his button for a moment before it came unsnapped, then pulled down his zipper before reaching down past the fabric, palming him through his underwear. He shuddered under your touch, a muscle in his jaw tensing as you explored, breath coming out in a sharp burst when your thumb ran over his clothed tip. His eyes briefly flicked away from yours as you focused on that spot, rubbing in circles, making him grunt, and when you pressed down, ever so gently, he groaned.

“You’re making it hard to focus,” he said, and the way he was looking at you was almost predatory.

You looked at him through your lashes, causing his breath to hitch. “Good.”

Finally, you pushed his underwear down, tugging him free and catching him in your hand.

Fuck.

He was thick. Your fingers only barely met as you wrapped your hand around him, and his length was worth mentioning as well. Six and a half inches, you’d guess, maybe even seven. It was oddly pretty, too, with a pink flush. He was a good deal bigger than anything you’d been expecting, not that you thought about Zoro’s dick with any kind of frequency. 

You took him into your hand, rubbing at his leaking tip, smearing precum with your thumb, an action that made him groan. You stroked him slowly, just as slow as he was touching you, and you watched as he fought to keep his eyes on you, lashes fluttering. His jaw clenched, hips shifting towards your hand as you thumbed his tip, sliding your fingers down to rub the underside of him. 

Zoro’s breath left him in a burst, hips twitching forward, the hand on your waist tightening its grip to nearly bruising. His fingers curled inside of you, making your back arch, free hand flying to grab at the back of his head, tangling into his hair. Your eyes were still locked, and you wanted to kiss him so badly, but you wouldn’t be the one to break, not when he was still going so slowly it was driving you crazy.

So you sped up. You knew you’d catch hell for this, but you decided that whether or not you’d be able to walk tomorrow was a problem for then, when your thoughts weren’t blurry with arousal. 

You touched him in quick, even strokes, squeezing at the tip each time, and you got to listen to him growl, his hand slipping from your waist to press against the wall beside your head, fingers fanning out. You could tell from the quickness of his breaths that he was trying to keep control, and then he was speeding up, making you falter.

The curl of his long fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, creating a sound that should’ve embarrassed you, but really only aroused you more. Your brows pitched up, pressing together, because fuck, it almost burned after how slow he’d been going before, making you squirm, and his hand was grabbing at your wrist, pinning the hand that had been touching him to the wall. 

“Eyes on me, darling,” he hissed, voice heated, “you wanted faster? I’ll give you faster.”

You couldn’t help but moan as he pushed his fingers deeper, hitting all the right spots, mouth just grazing yours as you squirmed against the wall, bucking your hips against his hand. He was playing you like a damn instrument, thumb firm against your clit, and he rewarded you with deep thrusts of his fingers every time you cried out. You could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, and your fingers knotted in Zoro’s hair, eyes half lidded, pleading. He groaned, low and rough, just at the sight of your stricken expression.

His hand left your wrist to run up your body, stopping on your clothed chest, and he pushed the fabric down below your breasts, causing the straps to slip down your shoulders. His palm pressed against a breast, and your breath shuddered. Your hips jumped when he gently squeezed, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples. He caught the nipple between his fingers, pulling, rolling it between them, and the sensation shot straight down between your legs. 

You were close. It was almost maddening, how good it all felt, and you could hardly focus on anything but Zoro’s hand between your legs, and how you were grinding down into his touch, chasing your high. He let you do as you pleased, gaze downright famished as he watched your face twist in ecstasy. You let out a loud, desperate whine, a near sob as he pushed his fingers deeper, thumb on your clit, driving you into that desperate build that comes just before you tip over the edge.

“Zoro,” you managed, voice strained, “Zoro, please.”

He said nothing, only replying with a growl as he crushed his lips against yours, frenzied and hungry, and your nails dug into his scalp as he brought you to your end, sending you toppling over that edge and into oblivion. 

You saw spots as you came, and he broke the kiss to watch your face, gaze dark as your head knocked back against the wall, hips bucking wildly against his hand, because it was all you could do not to scream, one of your hands slamming over your mouth, teeth sinking into your palm. You were squeezing around his fingers, spasms wracking your body, his name on your tongue like a broken prayer. Zoro pulled your hand away from your mouth, diving in to kiss you, deep and passionate, his tongue tangling with yours, and you moaned into his mouth as he worked you through your climax and into the realm of overstimulation. 

You were halfway towards a second orgasm when he finally pulled away, and you slumped against the wall, boneless, breath uneven and heavy. Zoro’s mouth pressed against the side of your throat, trailing up to your ear.

“Think you can handle more?”

You smiled, still breathless, looking at him through your lashes. “Let me catch my breath.”

“Tired already?” He taunted.

You responded by pushing off the wall to drop your nightgown off your body, followed by your panties. Zoro’s eyes raked down your figure, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and then he was pulling you to him, mouth hot against yours. You could feel his bare cock pressed against your stomach, and his hands slid down your hips to your thighs, boosting you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

His mouth trailed down your throat, sucking hard enough to surely leave marks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You pressed your hips forward, grinding against him, and he moaned into your skin, his grip on your body growing tighter. He was growing impatient, you could tell. But so were you.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he husked, and you whined, pressing your hips against him once again.

“Then do it,” you said.

That was all it took. You were suddenly moving, tossed onto the bed, and you watched as Zoro slid his trousers down his legs before he was taking his place above you. His mouth was hot against you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, growing more impatient by the second, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“So needy,” he chuckled, lips brushing against your jaw, and you arched your back, shifting your body against him, making him hiss between his teeth.

“So cocky for someone who was telling me how bad he wanted to fuck me,” you countered, “are you all talk, then, demon?”

His eyes flashed, thrilled and amused, and you knew you were in for it, but not one part of you cared. In fact, you welcomed it. Obviously just as impatient as you were, he was prying your thighs farther apart, his body slotting between them.

You felt his tip at your entrance, pressing forward, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he pushed inside, and fuck, even just that was a stretch. Your head fell back, breath uneven. You felt Zoro’s mouth against your neck, and he was pushing forwards just a bit more, making you whine.

“Fuck,” you gasped, “fuck, you’re too big.”

“Relax,” he urged, voice rough, “it’s too fuckin’ tight, you gotta relax.”

You took a breath through your nose, fingers knotting into the duvet beneath your body. You took another breath as he sunk deeper, the stretch bordering on painful, but you could take it, even if it felt new and strange. 

Zoro’s face was flushed pleasantly pink, a sight that would be endearing in any other context, and you watched his teeth grit as he pushed forward again.

“You can take it,” he whispered, encouraging, “shit, relax, relax.”

You lifted your hips, allowing him to take hold of them, using them as leverage to push the rest of the way in, finally bottoming out.

“Fuck,” Zoro gasped, voice breathless and stricken, “fuck, that’s it, I knew you could take it— shit—”

His sentence was cut off by a loud groan, and you yanked him down into a kiss, appreciating how still he was being, despite his rapidly unraveling restraint, but you could hardly wait, even as your body protested at the unfamiliar feeling of being stuffed so full. You shifted your hips forward, your breath leaving your lungs in a sudden burst, and you heard Zoro groan in response.

“Move,” you gasped, “please.”

He gave a shallow little thrust, then another one, slightly deeper, and you felt his hands grip your waist as he pulled his hips back, only to thrust forward, filling you once more. 

You gave a choked, helpless moan as he thrust again, and fuck, you didn’t think you’d ever felt so full in your life. The stretch was rapidly making your thoughts turn to nonsense, head emptied out, and not one part of you cared at all.

Zoro adopted a pace that had you rocking back against the bed, head falling into the pillows, and he was dipping his head down to meet your mouth in a heavy kiss. His hands found your legs, pushing them up to wind around his waist, shifting his hips back to an angle that made your head spin. 

“Right there,” you slurred, “Zoro, Zoro, right there— so good.”

He gave a low, indulgent groan, his hands smoothing over your body, grabbing at your waist, tugging you flush against him before he was thrusting again, stuffing you full, forcing a sudden moan to fall from your lips. 

The room was filled with the sounds of skin on skin, mixed with your breathy, bitten-off moans and his soft grunts, and fuck, you didn’t know it would feel this good. It definitely wouldn’t be the last time this happened, not when it was more than evident that what you felt for Zoro was far from one-sided, and certainly not when it made you feel like this. 

Your nails dug into Zoro’s back as he fucked into you, and he gave a stronger thrust, breath shuddering. You watched a muscle in his jaw tense, twitching, eyes squeezing shut as you tightened around him. His head dipped to connect his mouth with the curve of your shoulder, dragging down to your chest, and his lips pressed against your nipple. His tongue passed over the sensitive flesh, making you arch into him, squirming, and his grip grew tighter.

“You don’t know how much I thought about this,” he breathed, hips rocking forward, “how many times I imagined fucking you in that closet. You’re so fucking gorgeous, with that smart-ass mouth. And you love this, don’t you? You’ve wanted this, too.”

You let out a shrill wine as he ground his hips against you, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit. Your hips lifted to meet his thrusts, making him groan, and he was holding you down, one hand on your lower stomach as he shifted back onto his knees, tugging your thighs around his hips. 

“I wanted this,” you slurred, back arching as he ground his hips against yours just right, “thought about it, too.”

Zoro’s hands tightened on your thighs, and you sobbed in bliss as he ground himself against you, the friction combined with the way he made sure to hit your clit with the base of his cock with every roll of his hips making it hard to even see straight. 

You tossed your head back, whimpering, and you weren’t going to last, not when he was doing everything he could to make you writhe. Each thrust left your head empty, breath heavy and rough.

“Harder,” you gasped, “c’mon, Zoro, give it to me.”

You felt his hands find the backs of your knees, lifting them to your sides to use as leverage as he pushed deeper with a heavy groan. His mouth met your throat, and then he was biting down, but the pain was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure, the two mixing into an intoxicating feeling. Deep, hard thrusts sent you into incoherency, and when one of his hands left your leg to press a thumb to your clit, you let out a whine of his name.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Zoro groaned, “you’re gettin’ close, yeah?”

You could do no more than nod as he took your body with abandon, your climax so close it was driving you insane. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, and he groaned in your ear as you bucked up against him. You were totally drunk on pleasure, overwhelmed. He was the center of your world at that moment as he thrust deep into you, the rough pad of his thumb working you into madness.

You bit down on Zoro’s shoulder, sobbing in bliss as your orgasm hit you, washing over you like a tidal wave. His name was the only word on your tongue as he worked you through it, repeating it like unholy scripture until you could do no more than whimper in ecstasy, nails digging into his back. 

“Fuck— fuck!” You heard him cry, hips stuttering, “one more, do that again, I need to feel that again.”

And he was hiking one of your legs over his shoulder as his pace turned borderline punishing, leaving you helpless, unable to do anything other than lay there and take it, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even protest, not as he worked your over-sensitive body to its very limits. 

His nails dug into your thigh, a growl tearing from his throat as his thrusts grew erratic. Your head was empty, completely fucked out, thoughts filled only with jumbled thoughts of the man above you as he fucked you, deep and hard. You felt tears beading at your lash line as Zoro worked you towards yet another climax, and you yanked him down into a sloppy kiss in crazed desperation for as much contact as possible.

“Gonna cum,” you choked, “Zoro, fuck—”

“Do it,” he snarled, “fuck, do it, cum on my cock— yeah!”

You felt yourself gush on his dick, muffling your scream in the crook of his neck, vision spotty, and you knew you’d get addicted to this, addicted to him, but you knew neither of you cared at all about that fact, not when he was chanting your name, chasing his release as you squeezed around him in a vice grip. His pace was relentless, entirely indulgent, and you could feel him twitching inside of you.

“Wanna fill you,” he gasped, desperate, completely undone, “let me, will you let me?”

Unable to form words, you only nodded, yanking him down into another kiss as he thrust all the way in, stuffing you completely full, moaning into your mouth as he pulsed inside of you, his hands bruising in their grip on your body. Heat bloomed inside of you, making you whimper against his mouth, and you slowly rocked your hips to help him through the euphoria of it all, something that made blunt nails dig into your flesh.

Together, you lay panting, breathless and undone, tangled together. Zoro broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing erratically, and it was a few tense moments before he was slowly pulling out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

“That can’t be a one time thing,” you said, after you found your voice, and Zoro huffed what may have been a laugh.

“Fuck no.”

A few beats of silence passed before the bed creaked, and another few passed before you felt a towel between your thighs, wiping you clean. Then, the blankets were being pulled back, and you were being tucked under them. Zoro climbed in shortly after, tugging you to lay against his body.

Silence passed some more, and you almost thought Zoro had fallen asleep before he spoke.

“You make me feel things I’m not used to,” he said.

You stole closer, curling into him, resting your head on his chest.

“How long have I done that?”

He pressed his nose into your hair. “Since I met you.”

You snorted. “Bullshit. You didn’t like me when we met.”

“I did,” he said, “I’m being serious. You’re gorgeous and strong, and you know it. You don’t back down. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before for anyone. I didn’t know how to handle that, so I acted like an idiot.”

You smirked. “Hell of a time to tell me that, after you fucked my brains out. You had a crush, so you acted like a little kid on the playground, is that it?”

A snort. “Yeah, pretty much. Never said I was proud of it.”

You laughed, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

“I feel the same,” you said, “when you kissed me in that closet, I realized it. You could’ve just asked me to get a drink, though.”

Zoro smiled. “Sure, I could’ve. But this was way more fun.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Teasing me relentlessly?”

“Yep. Do you have a problem with that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, several. But I’ll pay you back for that in due time.”

“Give it your best shot. I look forward to it.”

Idle chatter continued for a little while before you began to doze off. You felt Zoro tug you closer as you fell asleep, and for once since you started sailing with the Straw Hats, you were actually thankful for storms.

And, as you felt Zoro’s lips press against the crown of your head, you were excited for the future.

“You had fun last night.”

You turned to look at Nami from your spot at the front railings of the Merry, eyes slowly growing wide.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” she said, “play that game. But maybe try a little harder to cover up the hickies next time you and Zoro… spend the night together.”

Shit.

“Nami, I’m sorry,” you relented, “it sort of just happened.”

She snickered. “Usopp told me he basically forbade anyone from taking the room with you after you left the lobby.”

You put your face in your hands, thoroughly embarrassed. “Usopp knows?”

“He isn’t stupid, anyone could’ve figured out what might happen. The hickies are just confirmation.”

“Confirmation for what?”

You bristled at the sound of Zoro’s voice, stiffening when he crossed the deck to reach you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Nami said, and Zoro smirked, smugness radiating off of him in waves.

“Do I?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why else would she be walking funny?”

Zoro shrugged, nonchalant, still smug as ever. “I guess we’ll never know.”

And as he tugged you closer, nose pressing into your hair as Nami turned to walk away, you couldn't help but smile.

[cherryheairt]

Idea by @itsaslaminak tysm 🩷

In His Arms

Summary- Cregan Stark comforting his wife through a thunderstorm

named! reader with no desc, made up house between Dorne and the Reach.

not proofread just wanted to get something out. I've been so swamped

When Lenora discovered her betrothal to Lord Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, she was confused first and foremost. Her, a firstborn daughter of House Keaton, a house that bordered between the Reach and Dorne, a dry and arid place. Northerners hardly married anyone who wasn't born and bred in the North, let alone married from a house allied with Dorne. Never in Westeros history has such a marriage been prospected, but a sudden need for alliance had sprung up one Winter.

The Starks were in need of livestock in stead of the harsh winter, and Martells were in need of supplies and ships. A pact was made for an annual trade to by conducted every early winter, for as long as relations were well between the two kingdoms. With the Martell Princesses all being married off already, Prince Qoren decided to send a vassel house's daughter instead. So, Lord Lent Keaton provided his eldest daughter to Lord Stark in a marriage and trade alliance, providing a generation of trust between the Dornish and Northerners.

It had taken months to travel North, with Lenora dreading every step that brought her closer to her mysterious bethrothed. Her parents and ladies in waiting could not join her on such a far journey, their services needed elsewhere during the time, so Lenora was left with only two of her maids and the guards protecting her carriage. The weather, too, was almost unbearable. By the time she had gotten there, the boats of livestock had long since reached the North to get the people through the harsh winter. Winter was long over by her arrival. Though, it hardly seemed that way given the powdery show falling over her hair and shoulders the moment she stepped from her box.

A welcome party was in Winterfell's square to greet the young Lady, consisting of Lord Stark, his sister, and a few of his trusted council members and bannermen.

It was easy to tell which one was Cregan. With a broad and tall figure, dusty brown hair that was half tied back, and a massive brown pelt held over his shoulders and clasped together with the signature Stark direwolf. A long face, straight nose, and fine lips turned into a straight line. As she got closer, she noticed steely grey eyes to match the longsword strapped to his shoulder. An intimidating sight, one quite unlike the friendly faces of Dornish men.

Was he unhappy with her? Burdened by the fact that he had to marry a Dornish girl in order for his people to thrive in the cold winters? Or was it simply the face of a hardened Northerner? Lenora had heard they were all miserable and serious, even with their own close families. Glancing at Sara Snow, she wasn't quite sure of that. The girl's pale face was set in a charming smile as she bounced on her feet as if to contain her excitement.

Lenora was glad to see a friendly face in such a cold place. Perhaps even if her husband was distant, she could still have a friend to keep her company.

Her eyes trailed back to Cregan, who stepped forward to meet her. Tilting his chin down slightly, he grabbed her hand to meet her knuckles in a kiss that seemed too delicate for a man like him. "I welcome you to Winterfell, Lady Lenora. I hope your travels were not too arduous."

Even his voice was rough, with that thick Northen accent she had only heard in King's Landings' tourneys. The stark difference between his accent and the usual one of her own kin made her stomach stir with warm nerves, the tone pleasing to her ears.

"It was no trouble at all, my Lord. Though, I dare say that the bite of the North was not at all as I expected. I half-thought the tales of the permanent snow where merely exaggerations."

He smiled, showing a softer part of him that Lenora hadn't expected to see. Truthfully, she was unsure if he could smile at first sight. She decided it fit him well, and hoped such an expression oft graced his comely features.

"You'll find Winterfell much different than the summerlands of House Keaton, my Lady. I will ensure that you can acclimate to our lands quickly. I've had some warm dresses and pelts commissioned for you over the winter, if they please you." He offered an arm to Lenora, which she took with a warmed face.

He glanced up and down briefly at the young lady, assesing her clothes discreetly. She had taken her warmest gowns for her travels, though even bundled up with many blankets in the box, she did not find much warmth. Hopefully, North-made attire would prove to be more useful. The dress she wore now exposed more than she had seen on other women at the passing inns and small Northern towns. In the heat of Dorne, modesty was not taken so prudishly as it was in other places. People were free to wear thin silks, laces, and cottons as well as strappy and more revealing necklines. Skirts were thin and flowy, as they should be for ease of walking and air flow.

When visiting King's Landing, her outfits earned her more than a couple of prolonged stares, either of judgment or unveiled lust. She took them all in stride, only strutting past any onlookers with a striking confidence; as any Dornish lady should uphold.

Now, she couldn't help but feel sheepish under Cregan's steel gaze. Did he think her silly for not preparing garments herself over the winter? Or perhaps unfit to serve as Lady of Winterfell with such improper attire. Sara had dressed like a true Stark, with a light blue dress lined with wolf pelt at the wrists and collar along with brown gloves to match. Even while showing off little of her figure and only her face, she still looked a picture of Northern beauty with blue eyes and contrasing dark black hair.

"Anything you provide, I am most grateful for, my Lord. I am not a difficult person to please." She mentioned, tilting her head up to meet his eyes as they walked into the Great Keep.

Inside, it was much warmer. Lenora felt the Keep's ancient. presence surround her like a safety blanket. It was a heavy feeling, much different from the open walls of her own family house.

As if noticing her relief, Cregan started, "Winterfell is built on a group of hot springs, keeping it warm throughout all the seasons. The water lines the walls," he nodded towards the stone walls surronding them. "To keep us warm. You will find it most comfortable in the Keep, but I hope that does not deter you from exploring Winterfell and Winter Town as you please."

Lenora nodded, taking the halls in and memorizing them as they walked. "I am excited to meet the people of Winter Town. I hope to settle in to my duties quicky." She said pointedly, glancing at Cregan to guage his reaction. Many lords in the Crownlands, Reach, and Stormlands did not care for their wives beyond just making heirs, and so they were often cast aside and did not have any duties to take care of. Lenora grew up with her mother and father both being busy constantly with their duties, sharing the burden as head of a great House.

Winterfell was an even greater House yet, one that Lenora hoped to be welcomed to by the commonfolk and leige lords alike. That started with being active in the communities, and an attentive Lady.

He nodded, "I will let you get adjusted to the North before anything else. After the wedding, and the honeymoon period, I will teach you the duties of a Stark Lady." Cregan promised her kindly.

Lenora was grateful for the immediate response, and found herself eager for this arrangement. 'A Stark Lady' ran through her mind many times as she settled into her temporary chambers. She liked the sound of it.

Many moon turns later, Lenora had turned her attentions almost fully to her duties. Organizing the Great Keep's staff, taking care of Winter Town's events and charities, and so on. She took to it naturally, with Cregan's help, and found the commonfolk of Winterfell had accepted their new Southern Wardeness with open hearts.

Cregan, too, shared that sentiment. Though the wedding was a beautiful affair, it was a bit tense given that the bride and groom were only just acquainted. The honeymoon weeks were spent purely in each other's company to get to know the other. Horseback rides in the mornings, hunts in the afternoons, settling down in their marital chambers in the evenings; all their days were spent in content and relaxation. At the end of their honeymoon, they finally felt comfortable enough to perform the bedding ceremony without the watchful eyes of any Lords or maesters.

Though Lenora had shown no signs of being with child yet, she was still content. Cregan showed no comtempt with the matter either, telling his wife that a child would come when it was time, should the Gods will it. She agreed quite happily, secretly enjoying having her Lord husband all to herself.

On night's like these, she was ever more grateful for it. After they finished their separate days, Lenora and Cregan settled into bed together. Lenora, in a baby blue night shift and Cregan, in only a loose pair of trousers.

Lenora had oft told Cregan how comforting it was to listen to his heartbeat as she fell asleep, so he took to sleeping without a tunic since their first days together. The chill was kept away by the many pelts on their bed and their own body heat combined.

With her head lying on his chest and his large hand rubbing up and down her back soothingly, she felt herself drifting from the light conversation.

"...not to worry too much about the solstace feast."

"Hm?" Lenora murmured, lifted her head to meet his eyes.

Cregan smiled knowingly, shaking his head. "Never mind, we can discuss that in the morrow. Go to sleep, my girl." He said quietly, kissing her hairline gently.

Unable to resist sleep's great temptation, she only hummed and placed her head back in its place. Thump, thump, thump, and she was asleep.

Lenora was woken by a thunderstrike. It crashed with a piecing 'bang!' and left her jerking awake.

The sound of pouring rain upon cobblestone roofs and glass windows surrounded her on all sides. Bright shots of lightning peeked in from the window in their chambers, followed by more thunderstrikes. Lenora flinched harshly, each strike sending a spike of fear into her heart.

She had rainstorms, of course. But none as ferocious as this one. Never such loud, nauseating thunder and bright lightning in her homeland. Duststorms were common back in her childhood homeland, something she could handle easily. This was a complete turn from that.

When another strike hit, sounding ever more close to Winterfell's keep, she clutched onto whatever her hand was rested on. Coincidentally, it was Cregan's forearm. He stirred then, lifting a hand to his eyes to rub at them tiredly. "What's wrong, my girl?" He murmured.

How had he slept through the noise? Was he so unconcerned with a flood happening, or the roof collapsing under the weight of so much water. Or fire, struck on the Wolfswood trees by stray thunder?

"The storm." She hissed worriedly. He sat up, moving his hand on top of hers and rubbing atop her knuckles soothingly.

"What of it?"

"I've never seen one so strong. Will the Keep not flood, or the woods catch fire? We should prepare—"

A deep chuckle came from beside her. At Lenora's confused and panicked look, Cregan shook his head and cleared his throat.

"'Tis Summer, wife. Monsoon season is upon us for some weeks, it happens every year. We are well prepared for anything that happens. Our roofs are slanted for rain to slide right down, our food is stored in sealed silos, and fires stand no chance of spreading with such heavy rain."

Lenora's heart slowed slightly, calmed at the thought of Winterfell being safeguarded by its years of tradition and preparation. Though, she was not completely calmed by his words alone. The pelting of drops hitting the roof and window still made her veins feel ice-cold, even with the hearth still running strong in their chambers.

Cregan reached out to grasp her face gently in his hands. "It will be like this for only a short time. We are safe in here, I promise you."

She nodded, clutching onto his large hand with one of her own as she leaned into his warm embrace. There, he held her firmly to his chest as he stroked her hair. Kissing the crown of her head, he spoke. "Shall I fetch more pelts? You are shivering, my heart."

Lenora shook her head, not wishing to part from his arms. "Just stay here with me, please."

"Of course." He obliged, succumbing to her whims as easily as the wind blew seeds from a dandelion. His wife came before all else, after all.

Slowly, he layed them both back down on the bed. Covering them up snug under the thick pelts of fur, Cregan rested his wife's head to his chest, covering her exposed ear with a cupped hand.

Wordlessly, he soothed her without needing to be asked. Never annoyed at her soft demeaner, he delighted in taking care of his beloved wife.

Comforted by his steady heartbeat instead of the thundering rain outside of the Keep, Lenora found herself drifting back into the welcoming and warm arms of sleep. Cregan stayed up all the while, ensuring his wife could not be disturbed again that night. He kept a hand held over her ear, adjusting to fit around her whenever she shifted in her sleep. His over arm lie firmly over her waist, rubbing circles at the small of her back distractingly.

Lenora did not wake again that night, oblivious to the raging storm outside. Every night after that, during the season of monsoons in Winterfell, Cregan was exceptionally careful that she rested throughout the night and was never scared again by the storms.

[amarmoria]

Nepenthe Ⅱ

٠ ࣪⭑Qimir x Padawan! Reader

Why would your master want a Padawan like you when he has his acolyte?

Notes: thank you guys for your support, like for real, please like, comment or reblog so I'll know if u want me to continue the story!

"Where did you go?" The dark timbre of his voice makes you shiver. "I, out, t-to get groceries and, and ingredients—"

"Ingredients for what?"

"Restock ou— y-your, uh, shelves"

"And since when was that your job?" He tilted his head, or helmet, you don't know. Mae was nowhere to be seen, it was only you, your master and the fire crackling. "I, you were running out of them so I assumed—"

"Assumed," he chuckled, the cave seemed to bounce off his voice, making it sound more intimidating than it is. "You and your big words huh?"

"B-big words? I don't—"

"That's right, don't. Don't ever disobey me like that"

"Disobey?" You scoff inwardly, since when did you even? Because out of the goodness of your heart you decided to buy a few goodies for your master? Make him proud? and you're here getting lectured about being disobedient?

"I'm, I'm not, you were running out and, and I didn't want them to empty completely, so I wanted to help you restock for the.. f-future .."

Your words die down on your tongue when he approaches you, his long strides opposed to your little attempts at backing away, your back hits the ropes keeping you from falling, the wind violently howling as the sun settles down.

"I leave you for a day and you go dallying to some, some planet?"

"I, I went to O—"

"Oh I know where you went," he pauses, locking your arms in his deadly grip, you gulp at the muscles flexing on his biceps. "W-what? Did Qimir—"

"No." His response came out a little quick, and shaky, but you didn't have to know that. "You really don't think I'd let my padawans go around freely do you..?"

You bite your tongue, you've never seen him angry like this, angry at training yes, but not this angry, maybe he's having a bad day, that's why you bought additional groceries when you left Qimir earlier.

"Answer me!" He shakes you, the wind howling louder once again, you shiver in his hold, you weren't exactly wearing thick clothes, especially when it was so hot during the day, but you guess the rain is coming, or even a possible storm, yet neither gets you distracted at your fuming master in front of you.

"N-no!..no, you don't.."

"Exactly" he growled. "Then tell me why you'd left here with your little ship across the space for something so, so small, so little, so simple"

You wanted to yell at him, tell him you're not a prisoner, that you could leave the planet anytime for all he cares, but you bit your tongue and fight back the argument.

"Something on your mind, Bee?"

That nickname again, you've been called everything, princess, lady, little girl, padawan, daughter, not bee, you're starting to hate the nickname already.

"Hm," his grip on you loosens as is the breath you've been holding since you came, you rub the sore spot on both your arms when he disappeared from your line of sight, he's aggressive, very aggressive, but only during combat, this was different, it almost felt like you were a child getting scolded, almost.

"Hey" your head whips to your left, the tension on your shoulders leaving when you see Mae approaching. "M-Mae,"

"What are you doing out?"

"I, it's, it's hot inside.. haha" you chuckle nervously, Mae only brushed you away and headed inside.

-

Sleep did you no good, you can still hear his voice in your head when you laid down. After Mae came, your bed was taken by her, so now you're sleeping on the cold hard ground, only two pillows and a blanket supporting you every night.

You didn't get to sleep the first few nights, still freshly used to the soft warm bed Mae was sleeping soundly in, you wondered that night if you were going to be able to build your own, but he quickly shut down the idea, naming it as a waste of materials.

Sometimes you pondered about asking for help from Qimir, but you didn't want to bother him, although the thought always stayed in the back of your mind.

You sighed and peeked at the entrance of the cave.

Blue.

The sky was already starting to brighten up, you gently got up from your lying position, careful not to move any trinkets that might cause alarm.

Would Qimir be up by now? You didn't want to face your master today, the thought of being near him makes you shiver slightly.

You pause when you hear rustling, your eyes quickly scanning the room for the source, no way any of them are up during this time, your shoulders drop in relief when you see a small rabbit at the entrance, phew, you thought you were about to be a goner.

You resume, quickly slipping into your shoes and additional protection from the sun, or rain. You hope Qimir is awake, or you'd be going there for absolutely no reason.

You gathered only little things, water, small knife, enough credits to last you at least a few hours, you hope your master wouldn't be too angry now, since Qimir was a friend he wouldn't worry about you running away.

You hurriedly tiptoed around the cave and up to the entrance where you find the bunny still there. You poke it with the blunt end of your knife.

"..hello?" You whisper, you didn't want to scare the bunny, it might make a sound and sabotage your whole escape mission.

You frown as you tilt its tummy, its full and round, and obviously breathing, maybe it's hibernating?

You shrug and resume with your agenda, carefully, you navigate through the treacherous rocks and calm waves, leading you to a small ship, it was advanced, a very new model from the last few months, your master agreed to let you keep it because it had only little buttons to press, you were too confused with what to do with his big ship, although when Mae came, she only had to learn all about it for a day then boom! She can already fly it, so much for buttons, you would've done it too if you didn't have your small ship, but you do.

The tension on your shoulders went away when your ship soared in the air, zooming up to the space, that's when you heard chittering out the back, you frown, you don't remember the engine breaking yet, or screws loose, you flick the auto-pilot switch and pull out your knife, going into battle stance.

"W-who's there!"

No answer.

"You, you better not be armed!"

You clenched around the knife when there was still no answer, you approached the arch connecting to the hallway. An ambush! Aha! You raised your knife, preparing to stab whoever it was when you were met by the same bunny from the cave.

"Wha.." you knelt down, letting it smell your hand. "Now what is a little thing like you doing here?"

You hid your knife back, carrying the bunny in your arms. "It's cold out huh?"

Chitter, chitter

"Let's get you warmed up then"

-

Moments before you arrived you found a box somewhere inside the ship, you poked holes in it and put the bunny there, you decided you'll let it go when you come back.

The chirping of the birds filled your ears, the bustling planet Olega wasn't so bustling during the wee hours of the day, you could clearly see how big and empty it is without the crowds. Your heart beats louder as you approach the apothecary, you hope he's there, he had to be.

You gulp nervously when you notice the door barricaded from inside.

Closed.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. What now?

You bit your tongue, you for sure didn't want to go back yet, you could stay in your ship and wait for Qimir, but it would bore you so bad, exploring Olega isn't a bad idea, except someone might snitch again..

You groaned and rolled your eyes, why'd you have to suffer today. The hair on your nape suddenly tenses up, you look around your peripheral but there was no one there, you couldn't feel any signatures, so why..

"Hey, miss?"

You yelp and cross your arms in front of your face, shutting your eyes closed.

"W-who's there!"

"Uh," the male voice pauses. "That's my line but uh... Thanks? I guess?"

Your other eye slowly peeks open, the first thing you saw was the beige clothing, with a little orange on the sides, maybe even yellow, by now both your eyes were already open, although your arms still stayed crossed.

"I won't hurt you"

"How would I know that," the last few words came out shaky, you inwardly curse yourself, the first rule was to not look meek and weak!

You heard him chuckle, seemingly amused by your guard. "If you would just take a moment to look at me clearly then you'd know."

You don't answer, your eyes were darting everywhere trying to find an exit.

"Don't think for a second that you can escape, missy"

"I'm not"

"Yes you are"

"No"

"I can see you, you know?"

You curse, hitting the barrel behind you, you hesitate for a moment before dropping your hands down.

"Now, do I look like I would hurt you?"

Fuck.

Jedi. You grip the ends of your robes, you haven't encountered a Jedi ever since that night your master took you in, that was the first and last time you even saw one, and now your face to face with a Jedi. Alone.

You search for Qimir or your master's signatures, but none you can reach, you weren't that good when your master dropped you out of his Sith school of learning, so all you can do right now is try to find your way out, peacefully.

"I, uh," you gulp, he's definitely handsome, pretty even, his hair twists upwards on his head, you're sure it would look horrendous on others, but he makes it look good on him, his facial structure reminds you of Qimir, only his was sharper, and the Jedi's was a little softer, and plumper.

"Yord" he says, taking a step forward which makes you step back, the barrels loudly dropping to the ground with a domino effect. "Don't, don't be scared."

He raises his hands up, showing he had no weapon hidden somewhere. "I'm- w-we're here to patrol the planet for a while,"

No answer.

"But," he pauses, frown etching on his face. "You don't look like a local from here, are you not?"

You shake your head. "Quiet now are we?"

You almost thought you were talking to Qimir, but this isn't him. A jedi. With you. Alone.

"So what brings you here?" He tilts his head, trying to look friendly, which you learned a lot of Jedi use that kind of trick when it comes to coaxing a criminal. But you're not a criminal right now huh? Not to him. He doesn't know you does he?

"I, I wanted to buy, something, medicine! Yes medicine, for my friend at home"

"Why so early though?"

"Uh, he needs them asap, or else he's gonna die" you made a dying gesture, and awkwardly tried to brush it away. "Dying friend then?"

"Uh— yes"

"Hm, I might know someone open right about now" he says, moving past you like you weren't there. "If you want to come that is."

You looked over to his shoulder to you, raising his eyebrows. "Uh,"

"It's fine if you don't," you don't see it, but you know he's laughing somewhere inside. "But won't your friend have to die for that?"

Notes: Yord?! He's here?! Hello?!

[vixen-tech]

HIII :333 first requester here....I should get an emoji can i be 🫧 anon :ooo anway here's my req!! the ais with a reader who is just SO DOWN BAD. WILL DO ANYTHING FOR THEM. RUSHES FOR HELP if they crash or something. Just PATHETIC reader.

Stupidly Smitten

Hello you two!! This is one of those requests that I think work well enough to be combined into one post. You are just so extremely, pathetically in love with your Ai <3

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Auto (Wall-E), Wheatley (Portal 2)

Hal 9000

Hal was unaware that a person could have so much love in them, let alone for him specifically. It was overwhelming at first, baffling when he realized it was only for him and not for any other crew members.

However he handles it in stride, able to calmly respond to your paragraphs of praise with the gentlest "Thank you, I deeply appreciate your companionship as well." Expertly concealing any signs of fluster as you giggle and kiss his camera lens.

Of your long list of cheesy nicknames, prince or prince charming tends to be a go to. A good match for his ever polite, gentlemanly nature. He reminds you that he was simply designed like that, but grows fond of the name anyway.

He very much appreciates the amount you volunteer around the ship. There is a lot that he can't do without a human crew and he adores the diligence you show in your work and the care with which you handle his ship.

Edgar

You and Edgar make the sappiest little feedback loop. It's an endless cycle of "I love you more." "No, I love you more!". To any outsider it would be exhausting to witness, but it's just how you two get out all your feelings.

He goes crazy for all your terms of endearment. 'Songbird' is a pretty easy match for him, but he loves literally every word that comes out of your mouth. Flipping each and every one back at you.

It's not unusual for you to do the same song and dance around the chores. Generally, he'll already have them done by the time you get home, but when you get the day off you always offer to do them yourself. He rarely lets you.

You've told him the time you often have your lunch break so you can chat over the phone while you eat. You're sure your coworkers are sick of you being such a cartoonishly in love couple, but you don't care. He makes you too happy for that.

Auto

Auto has absolutely no idea how to deal with you. He was not made to interact with many people and certainly not someone so affectionate. He may as well have bluescreened the first time you clumsily tried to hug him.

At first he resigns himself to just... sit still whenever you got in a lovey-dovey mood, letting you gush over him. Definitely not spending the rest of the day thinking about the way you said "See you later starlight!" when you finally let him get back to his job.

Over time he recognizes that he began to anticipate your visits, it's so different to how he's usually treated. He knew you had gotten to him when he went out if his to check up on you the day you missed one of your usual visits.

He usually rejects any help you attempt to offer him, his purpose is to handle the ship just fine all by himself. But after that episode he stops trying to push you away. If you're so happy tagging along, he might as well graciously allow you to do so, ignoring his complicated mess of feelings about you.

Wheatley

Oh the ego boost you give him is downright dangerous. If Wheatley was annoying before, now he is absolutely insufferable. Perfectly matches your energy though, you two cannot shut up about each other.

He makes your boundless affection everyone else's problem. "See, I reckon you're just jealous that you're not in a loving, committed relationship with such a lovely person like I am." He boasts. "My amazing romantic partner even calls me their sunshine. Cause I 'light up their life' as they say. Bet you wish you had someone like that."

He is always fishing for compliments, trying to show off for you in any way he psychically can to get some of those sweet sweet words of affirmation. To his delight you always do, grabbing him for some well placed kisses.

He'll even go so far as to reject any assistance you offer him so he can prove he's all cool and competent by doing it himself. Although it's never too long before he gives up and sheepishly asks for your help.

[alexa-fika]

hey I love your writing so much I had an idea but I’m not good at making stories so the other day I remember that when I was little I used to run a lot so I fell from a boat and you know I was swimming away while my parents almost got a heart attack how about a child reader with red haired pirates it would be funny , only if you want you don’t need to do it have a nice day or night

Take off (Red haired pirates x m!child!reader)

A/N Here we go, guys can you believe this is the last of the requests from APRIL like that’s so crazy to me, I want to take you for all of the requests and for trusting me to bring them to life

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Readerin Japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

The Red forced was the same as always, with lively chatter among the crewmates as they partied over their newest conquests, not taking their eyes off the child running along the Deck

“What has got you this happy, Dokucha?” Lucky piped in, taking a bite from his chicken and laughing merrily at the young boy

“Uncle Shanks found a plane in the loot!” He cheered, waiving around said toy around

“Why did they even have toys? The crew didn’t have any children on them,” Limejuice questioned, downing down a mug of beer

“The crew was big on woodwork; they had a couple of pieces here and there littered on the loot,” Shanks answered, joining the group with his own mug in his hand, his first mate not far behind

Dokucha grinned, ignoring their chatter as they launched the toy, beaming as it glided around and rode on the same wind that pulled the Red Force along

“Dokucha, watch where you are going!” Yassop called as the child ran behind the plane, trying to take hold of it

“Don’t w-

His words die out as the floor disappears behind him, and they quite literally run themselves out of the ship. The last thing he heard was the scream of his name as he made an impact with the water, another splash following after his

He gripped onto Beckman’s similarly soaking clothes as he pulled himself over the side of the deck

“Im sorry, Daddy,” he cried, hugging him tighter and sobbing into Beckman’s already drenched shirt as they both sat on the Deck, Hongo crouching in front of the two, checking over the boy, the rest of the crew crowding around the two much to the displeasure of the first mate, a glance to his captain was all the latter needed to quickly dismiss them, leaving only the officers littering the deck

“Everything seems in order; no water seems to have entered the lungs, and no damage from the impact; next time, make sure you pay attention to where you’re running, okay?” He asked, giving Dokucha a small smile as he ruffled his hair and took his leave

Teary eyes glance up at his father, trying to gauge his emotions

He sighed, turning them around on his lap so that they were facing him, as he wiped the tears from the boy, his own dripping hand not making much difference

“I saw the dive you did before you hit the water,” he comments, giving up in the action as he recalls the safety position he had seen them take before colliding with the water

“You told me to do it if I ever fell in the water.”

“You did well; you had good reflexes as well; now we just need to practice keeping our eyes on the path,” he said softly, rubbing his knuckles against his cheeks

“You’re not mad?”

“We’re pirates; we’re going to have our slops from time to time; everyone here has fallen to the water at least once, though not everyone was as gentle as you, ain’t that right, Punch?”

The latter lets cackles as he happily takes over the small boy as he recalls the less-than-proud moments from the crew

“You know, Monster here once fell overboard; you should have seen the little rascal. It was like watching a b….

Beck watches his son regain his previous demeanor at Punch’a stories go on, and he heads to his quarters to replace the now flimsy box of cigarettes lost to the sea

“Shanks,” he called

“Hm?”

“You are banned from giving any Toys to Dokucha.”

“W-What, come on, Beck! We can talk about it,” the captain whined, following after his vice-captain

Uncle privileges revocked 😂

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[anachronistic-falsehood]

Vash and Femininity: Trigun Stampede and its Themes of Bodily Autonomy, Exploitation, and Vague Gender Fuckery

alright sit the fuck down. we're gonna talk about THEMES

I was on Twitter- terrible idea usually, but a couple people I follow made some tweets that got me thinking about Trigun's overall themes, and here we are. So let's talk about some themes in Tristamp! And I'll take a couple looks at Trimax as well, just for fun :3

Let's look at how the showrunners utilize gender roles and exploitation of feminine characters to show how unhealthy Knives' obsession with his ideal of Vash is, and how horrific his exploitation of Vash and the Plants is.

Vash, from the beginning of Tristamp, is someone who cares about people's choices. When people kill others in front of him, he reiterates that whether someone lives or dies is not another person's choice to make. This is something he learned from Rem (a prominent female figure in his life). He refuses to kill people because that is not his choice to make. To kill someone is the ultimate removal of their bodily autonomy. They can no longer make any choices at all; they're dead.

Vash is also someone who has almost no choice in what path his life takes. He's constantly dragged around by outside forces, namely situations that are caused by Knives (which we'll get into later). Vash doesn't make things happen, things happen to Vash. The majority of events that occur are not his fault. He's pushed and pulled in a thousand different directions. His entire life is completely out of his control.

This can be seen as early on in his life as the Fall, something he had no control over and had no idea he even had a part in. Even later, in the ship with Luida and Brad, after he's been rescued from the desert, he's kept in handcuffs right up until he's shown to be of use to them and the Plant on their ship. After that, he could theoretically say "no, I don't want to go to other ships and heal their plants," but he doesn't. He's Vash. He's helpful and nurturing at his core, and these people have done so much for him just by letting him stay, so he'll do whatever they ask, no question.

This carries over into his adulthood. At Jeneora Rock, he goes to look at their Plant at one simple request, doesn't protest when he's dragged into a duel-- he doesn't take initiative unless someone's life is immediately at stake. He lets people tell him what to do and lets himself get dragged around by the wrist. He doesn't even pretend to have control over his life like Trimax Vash does, which I mean. Fair. Why pretend to have a grip on your existence when it's impossible to do anything without a gun pointed at your head?

Vash is a very passive character. He's nurturing, kind, gentle- he's a guy that fits a lot of very typical feminine character stereotypes. If you wrote this same story but made him a woman, I wouldn't bat an eye (but I would definitely be looking at it a lot more critically, what with the amount of stereotypically nurturing/motherly female characters in media already.)

This contrasts directly with Knives. He makes a decision and carries through no matter what stands in his way. He takes initiative. If Vash is a passive character, Knives is an active character. Wherever he goes, he leaves a lasting imprint. He makes shit happen! If outside forces make things happen to him, he'll go out of his way to make sure that particular force doesn't affect him again.

These two tweets I saw are what got me thinking about this originally. I just feel like here's a good place to put them as a segue into talking about episode 11.

Episode 11 is where a lot of this feminine imagery really just. Explodes in your face. IT'S RIGHT THERE. You can't dance around it if you try. And it kind of reaches a peak when the connection reaches 100%, the gate opens, and. well. THIS happens to the Plants.

Plants, in both Trimax and Tristamp, are almost always typically feminine-looking. Knives and Vash are the only two who are male or even masculine at all. Knives, as the most masculine out of all of them, is the one trying to take charge, and mould the world as he sees fit, to a degree that is detrimental to both him and everyone else. And Vash-- passive, feminine, kind and nurturing, whose Angel Arm in the manga always sprouts decidedly feminine-looking Plant parts-- is the one being exploited for Knives' plans. It's no mistake that they made the giant plant formation at the end of ep 11 look like a giant woman that almost resembles Rem.

Vash wants people to make their own choices and keep their autonomy when it comes to their bodies and lives. Knives is the exact opposite. He wants all Plants to become independent and he uses Vash to achieve that goal, without asking what Vash wants or even knowing what the Plants themselves would prefer. He exploits Vash for the soul purpose of trying to make these Plants have Independent Plant babies. He's completely incapable of seeing that his choices are not for the greater good! He thinks he's saving them, but none of his actions are for the good of anyone but himself. He’s just violating them for his own gain.

They're really leaning into gender roles for these guys, but in a way that screams "HEY, LOOK AT THIS! ISN'T IT FUCKED UP? LOOK AT HOW FUCKED UP THAT IS. LOOK AT THIS, AND BE UNCOMFORTABLE, AND KNOW THAT IT IS FUCKED UP."

Because it is! It's so extremely fucked up. They're using this imagery and these roles, something that makes most of us intrinsically uncomfortable, to drive home how unhealthy Knives relationship with his ideal of Vash is. That's the point. We're supposed to be uncomfortable with this.

Now of course there's some nuance to it. Like, you could see Knives as somewhat of a feminine and/or queer-coded figure as well, ESPECIALLY if you look at some of his panels in the manga, which could in turn lead to themes about infighting and control within marginalized communities, but that might be something for another post. :3

And there's definitely different ways you could take this! Vash, with all this feminine imagery, could be either transfem or transmasc coded, depending on what way you'd rather see it, which could lead into themes of how people outside the norm constantly face a lack of bodily autonomy and are exploited for purposes outside their boundaries. We could also look at Wolfwood and his lack of choice over joining the Eye of Michael and becoming the Punisher, and how masculine men (particularly men of colour) are often forced into violent roles against their will. If we look at Trimax, the exact same could be said for Livio/Razlo and people with disorders such as DID/OSDD.

There are many different ways you could spin these themes, some of which I don't feel personally qualified to discuss. If anyone who is qualified to talk about Wolfwood or Livio/Razlo or even other characters related to these themes, then god PLEASE add onto this post or make a post and tag me or something. I would love to read it!

Anyway, in conclusion: Vash is a feminine figure constantly taken advantage of and exploited and and he's so incredibly trans/nonbinary-coded that it drives me insane. Thank you

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Current obsession - the updates and changes to the Diaz house!!

Eddie has a new painting over the mantle

and a new one next to the front door in red and blue. The fire engine/truck on its side on the table has me feeling a certain type of way - it feels like a nod to the ladder truck explosion that crushed Bucks leg, but it could also be foreshadowing for this season as well - we'll have to wait and see how things shake out!

The water painting has moved again - its now on the wall next to Christophers room ----------------------------------------------------vvv

and these have appeared on the sitting room wall where that water painting has been seen previously - are they making you scream??

what if I showed you this picture from 4x14

are you screaming like I am now?? Becasue I am very very feral about that picture appearing - pennyfarthing megaphone mans megaphone is pointing right at Eddie nad Bucks ears ini these scenes - saying ... at the top of ones voice - the universe is screaming at you and you refuse to listen!!!!

There are new band posters in Christophers room - the Lunadeers one under the solar system mobile. The name Lunadeers is a fun one - its obviously a play on the band the Lumineers - a made up name, but is a play on the concept of illuminating something - the idea of lighting the way in the darkness - illuminating is also the idea of becoming enlightened and seeing things differently or in a new light.

Luna = moon and is obviously connected to the space theming, but there is also the deers part of the name - deers are crepuscular animals - they are more active at night - in the darkness - under the moon

I'm also clowning is a reference to Buddie because the 'mun' in Edmundo is pronounced moon and a male deer is a Buck - so moon-deer - Eddie and Buck - a nod to Christophers two fathers rom the set and props departments!

Then there is also the Violet Brothers poster on the back of his door - heavily leaning wards the yellow and blue colour ways, there is also the fact that violet is a really interesting colour - it represents future hopes and dreams, imagination and sensitivity!

Not to mention all the watery themes things I've already spotted - mostly what seem to be camp stickers on his wardrobe and the pinboard

theres also a 'boom' sticker - which I love as a possible nod to Christophers roast of Buck in 6x01, but also as a nod to the explosives buck and Eddie have dealt with as part of their job - the grenade and the rocket from this episode plus the foreshadowing of the ship going boom!

The cool cool cool sticker is giving me Abed from community vibes (a queer coded character in his own right!)

and Christophers room has now gained a plant - it moves around a bit - its on the table next to the lamp by the window, then its in a basket next to the table, but its possibly a nod to Christopher growing up!

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 9

First|Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst, depression, canon typical violence.

Jason was not angry he was frustrated. There was a difference. A distinct difference that Jason knew very well.

Ghost kept running. He would steal a thing. Evade some goons, cause he often stole from the rogues. Then evade some bats, lead them in a new direction, sometimes changing overall direction mid chase, there really was no rhyme or reason to it.

And then, when Jason showed up, he’d invariably be standing on another rooftop and disappear. All the while Jason could feel his longing and sorrow, a call for help he wouldn't let Jason answer, and it was frustrating and confusing, but mostly frustrating.

Because Jason was not angry.

He may have snapped at Dick, when he made a joke about his princess being in another castle, but he hadn’t actually laid hands on anyone. He made sure nobody made the mistake of touching him.

He ducked his head, never stuck around and ignored the looks he got. Worry, pity, wariness, Jason flip-flopped how he interpreted the gazes. A loose canon, that’s what they thought he was. But Jason was not. His chest burned, but Jason was not angry. Because he knew the difference, between himself and the pits. He knew. But they didn’t. They didn’t understand and Jason could not explain - not without him sounding unstable. There was no way he could explain things and keep cool. They wouldn’t understand that he kept away for their sake. At best he’d be benched.

Benched, a bitter voice mocked, locked up and thrown in Arkham more like. Criminal, murderer, crazy.

He shook his head. Pushed the thoughts away. He couldn’t allow himself to be benched. He needed to catch Ghost - to make him listen and explain just for a moment so he could understand what was going on with him and the pits.

As long as Jason didn’t cross the line, they wouldn’t try anything. He had to believe that.

Oo o oO

Bruce was at a loss.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Jason hadn’t pointed a gun at any of them, Bruce would have thought they’d gone a year or two back in time. He was tense and curt and kept himself at a distance. Always out of reach.

It wasn’t like he joined their patrols regularly normally, but he could usually be counted on if something big was going down. Now Bruce wasn’t so sure he’d want to ask him if something happened. It seemed like he was nearing breaking point and Bruce feared what way he’d fall.

The thief, Ghost, was at the center of this. Something was going on there, but it was like he was missing crucial information. Jason was downright frantic to catch him.

Danny Fenton. The name was still a dead end. The DNA sample useless. His contact at Star Lab had gotten back to him and informed him they’d had a break in weeks ago, before the thefts started in Gotham - nothing had been stolen, the invisible perpetrator had been found out because of the electromagnetic disturbance his stealth tech gave off, or rather that was what their reports said. The recorded disturbance matched the readings they got off of the Ghost.

It was quite possible there were many more unrecorded thefts before the Ghost came to Gotham. He’d already informed Tim and watched him pale from the realization that they actually had no idea how far the Ghost was with what he was building. If building something was indeed what he was doing with the eclectic mix of parts he’d stolen. Tim had a theory, that much was obvious, but he was not at a point where he felt he had enough evidence to share it.

When Bruce had told him of the Star Lab incident, he’d glanced towards where they’d stored the spectral calibrator, before his shoulders had forcefully relaxed.

Bruce was no slouch when it came to technology, but mostly when it came to operating it. He could infiltrate systems and extract information fine, but it he was honest, the kids were better, and since he rarely worked alone these days, he didn’t get as much practice - he wondered momentarily if this is what it was like growing old.

It was something he’d never expected when he set out on his mission as a young man, growing old that is.

Besides while Bruce had designed a fair few gadgets in his time, and assembled the Bat computer himself back in the early days when it didn’t have near the capabilities it did today, he was not an inventor. Lucius was the one who’d made his more fanciful ideas workable in the early days.

And now he had all these talented kids.

It didn’t matter most of them were adults, they’d always be kids to him. Here he went again getting distracted.

He rubbed his forehead. Point was, Bruce couldn’t see what the parts could be used for but Tim could. And it was something that worried him, which in turn worried Bruce and like always these days his thoughts circled back to his worry for Jason.

He’d given him time, like Dick had said - three weeks so far in fact. And instead of things calming down they’d become worse. The Ghost’s continued escape was winding Jason up, there were no two ways about it. They needed to capture him.

Bruce had to be honest with himself, if it wasn’t for Jason, the Ghost would be very low priority for them. He wasn’t hurting anyone, just a thief. Before the day Jason had tackled the Ghost on the rooftop, he had been low priority. Amusing in fact, with the way he riled up Damian with his continued escapes, it had been low stakes - safe in a way many of their missions weren’t.

But now, Tim was working frantically on ways to capture the Ghost, they’d tried nets of various materials (some even Martians had trouble phasing through) with no success. Barbara was still trying to unearth more information from the phone, also with no success.

Steph and Cass had been steadily and stealthily working on changing the cameras throughout the city connected to Barbara’s network to ones with better filters and built in detectors for electromagnetic disturbances over a certain threshold - a very bothersome process since most of the cameras technically weren’t theirs and had to be indistinguishable from the originals and send visuals to the real owners of the same (low) quality they’re used to in case somebody decided to take a closer look.

Damian was giving him long looks, when he thought he wasn’t noticing. He was hiding something and he’d been sneaking off on his own. Bruce was trying to convince himself to leave it alone. He’d nearly lost Damian in the past because he was too controlling.

Trust, it was something he was trying to practice but it irked at him not to know. What if he got in trouble? He had to forcibly remind himself, it was most likely that Damian was just sneaking off to some wild animal he was hiding and nursing back to health.

Duke had just gotten back from a three month exchange program abroad, he would have to be caught up to speed. Maybe his abilities would give them some additional insight.

Hopefully.

Oo o oO

Jason was not angry, he was livid. Ghost was on another rooftop. About to do his disappearing act, again again again.

“Come back here!” He yelled.

Fear not his own hit him in a sickly yellow haze. He gasped and struggled not to throw up. Ghost was gone again. Of course he was. His one chance and-

“Jason…” the words were quiet, barely audible, Bruce. Jason grit his teeth. Bruce was a fucking hypocrite saying his name in costume like that.

A step forward was heard, a purposefully made sound to announce his approach, and Jason spun.

“Don’t touch me!” His guns were pointed at Bruce. He stood frozen, the hand he’d no doubt been reaching toward Jason was pulled back. It served him right.

Jason didn’t trust him. He should shoot him, teach him not to get too close. He knew Batman’s armor, he knew the weak spots. It would be easy. A rubber bullet wouldn’t kill, but it would hurt.

Jason wanted him to hurt; like he hurt.

He wanted-

He wanted-

He couldn’t remember loading his guns tonight. The realization struck him like a splash of ice water. Rubber bullets or live ammunition?

He didn’t know!

He followed the aim of his still raised guns, pointed at his dad’s chest, the armor could only do so much at such a close distance.

Real bullets or rubber?

Jason took a step backwards in horrified realization. It didn’t matter. Not at this close range. Both would be lethal. He knew that. He knew guns. Why had that even been a question? Why was he still pointing his guns at Bruce?

A wounded sound escaped his throat and he turned and ran.

He’d crossed the line.

-

Poor Jay, huh? Can Danny keep escaping the bats? Will Jason be okay? Tim POV next time, we're in serious need of a plan here, come on Timmers.

Next

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[undiscovered-horizon]

"Femme fatale" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[suggestive themes but nothing explicit]

SUMMARY: When you reveal how you won the suspiciously heavy bag of coins, Nikolai is overwhelmed with anger at the thought of you being intimate with another man. The thing is, he's never told you how he feels about you... until now.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

<I cried on national TV today, I am anything but fine lmao>

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

The bag thuds loudly as you drop it on the nautical maps scattered on Sturmhond’s desk. Tolya, Tamar and the privateer in question suddenly fall silent, their excited chattering put to a halt. Three pairs of eyes glance once at you, once at the big leather pouch.

“Did you rob a bank on your way here?” Nikolai asks. Although framed as a joke, his voice reveals that he’s not exactly discarding this possibility.

“I know that look.” Tolya gives you a half-smile, crossing his arms on his chest. Even if he wasn’t a Heartrender, he’d still be proficient at reading people. “She ripped someone off.”

You shrug and wave your hand in dismissal. “Some whaler, roughly the size of a small elephant, was very eager to spend the night with me. At first I wanted to rip his face off but then I realized that I saw a ship docking around the same time we did, so the whalers must have just gotten their wages. I offered the man that if he can win against me in cards, I’ll let him do whatever he wants to me. He got so excited he didn’t notice the stack of aces up my sleeve.”

Tamar nods her head in acknowledgement. The small smile on her lips betrays a sense of proudness. “Beat him at his own game. I respect that.” It was your and Tamar’s thing - the whole crew probably knows that most commonly known methods of cheating were invented by either of you.

“Thank you very much,” you say as you take back the bag. “But I doubt this is anywhere near close enough to get Hyram to take the nightwatch for me, so I’ll be off.”

“Come on, sister,” Tolya taps Tamar’s arm, “we have things to do as well.”

When your hand pushes down the door handle, you hear Nikiolai calling out your name in a rush. “Stay for a moment,” he asks in a strangely anxious voice. You give the twins a questioning look but they only shrug in response - their previous conversation with their captain never once involved even a mere mention of you.

The door closes with a thud behind Tolya and Tamar. What used to be a lighthearted, friendly atmosphere suddenly turns absolutely uncomfortable and tense. You furrow your eyebrows studying Nikolai’s expression. He looks… angry. Slowly, you stroll towards his desk again but the closer you are to him, the more uneasy you’re feeling. Standing maybe a meter or two away from the table, you suddenly find yourself unable to move forwards as though some force is separating you two.

Nikolai sighs. He shakes his head and looks at you with a fiery glint to his eye. "Are you out of your mind?!"

The sudden loss of composure renders you speechless. "I beg your pardon?" Part of you realizes that this conversation is not going to end quickly, so you drop the bag on the floor next to your leg. Besides, the pouch filled with coins does weigh quite a lot.

"What if you lost?” His voice cuts the tense air like treacherous blades. Those bright eyes aren’t any softer. This outburst is already surprising but considering the details of his appearance, this is already a tempered version of the fury residing in his viscera. “Have you any idea what…” he cuts himself off and sighs again. Nikolai closes his eyes, rubs his face and only then resumes talking. “What could have happened to you?"

"What's up, boss?" you nod upwards at him with furrowed eyebrows. "This isn't the first time I'm conning people out of their money through frankly reckless wagers."

"This is different,” he drones his words.

"How so?” you bite back. His inexplicable irritation is rubbing off on you. “I knew I was going to win. Even if I didn't, by some chance, I would have fought them."

"By yourself?” his voice raises again. You’ve never seen him like this before, only further convincing you that something serious must have broken his patience. But considering your history of relatively legal enrichment, it seems unlikely that it’s this little bet that had set him off. “With whalers that make Tolya look like a spud?”

It’s like dancing. Except he’s clumsy for a man of his agility and keeps stepping on your toes. And just like guests do on weddings, the two of you are pirouetting around the main attraction, naively thinking that the other person will miraculously be enlightened. The orchestra is playing the music and yet the dancing guests refuse to tell each other the name of the song.

"Come on, talk to me,” you coax him impatiently. This… dancing is tiring and there’s still quite a few things you need to do before the crew goes to sleep. “Say the quiet part out loud."

Nikolai hangs his head. You see his shoulders slowly raise and fall - he’s taking a deep breath, calming himself down. He walks around the desk and sits on its edge, leveling his eyes with yours. Something about his expression is changed like Nikolai has discarded the anger in place of defeat or compliance; like the steam that urged him to fight simply run out, returning the level-headed captain to you.

His eyes meticulously study the right-hand side of the room, along with the leather pouch, before he looks at you. "Can I be embarrassingly honest with you?"

You vaguely open your arms in a welcoming manner. "I'm all ears, captain."

Nikolai stares at you with a newfound intensity. The words almost escape him but he forces them back down his throat when he presses his lips tightly together. You see his hands grip the edge of the desk he’s sitting on as though he’s looking for something to ground him or just an outlet for his clearly turbulent emotions. Finally, Nikolai speaks but his voice is uncharacteristically low and somber: "The thought of another man having you makes me want to break this ship into pieces."

A strange tightness in your chest and throat; suffocating warmth sets your tired muscles on fire, its flames temptingly brushing against your starved skin. Then, a moment of defiance and doubt - how can you know he’s serious? That he’s not just saying this to keep you close in case he grows bored or frustrated one day? Privateers, pirates, corsairs, you’re all cut from the same cloth; hungry, money-grabbing, opportunist cloth.

"Another?" you ask. Hopefully Nikolai remains oblivious to the effect his words had on you. "You're making it sound like there's already a man I should be spending my nights with."

"There certainly is a man foolish enough to give everything away for the chance at your affection."

"If he's so desperate,” you begin thoughtfully, your voice low, “why has he never said a word?"

"I'm afraid he might just lose his sanity if you tell him no."

Perhaps it’s your own corporeality or the undisputable vulnerability in his words that makes you forget the distrust and defiance you felt towards this consuming notion. Suddenly, the tension that prevented you from coming closer has disappeared if not shifted to be located behind you, dissuading you from leaving the room. The nervous, thrilling atmosphere is nudging you forward, towards the man sitting a mere meter or two away from you, his eyes boring into you with anticipation. Some devious voice in the back of your head notices the romance in the dim candlelight and steady rocking of the boat traveling the seas.

Your legs, betraying your will, push you towards Nikolai. He straightens his back noticing you walking in his direction, suddenly his muscles flexing and creating tension. No matter how one wishes to look at it, he appears ready, prepared to take action.

"Well,” you shrug slightly, “unless he asks, how can he know it's going to be a no?"

"Better safe than sorry, I suppose,” he answers quietly as though the lack of space between the two of you is pushing down his chest, squashing juvenile vitality out of him.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips. You shake your head in amusement at the atypical uncertainty. "Said the famous privateer Sturmhond, known for his utter lack of bravado."

Then, like you had lifted a curse that clouded the blue sky above his head, Nikolai furrows his eyebrows in a confused expression. "Yes, that doesn't really sound like me, does it?"

"Not in the slightest.” You answer. His lips curve into a smile and you find yourself wallowing in relief at the familiarity of his easy-going, up-beat attitude. “This makes me think that the mysterious admirer simply can not be you."

"When did you become a detective?” he jokes. Whether it’s your lack of straightforward rejection or the fact that you’re steadily getting closer to him, Nikolai’s humor is only improving. “Amuse me. What would I have done?"

"I think…” your voice trails off as you fiddle with the hem of his frock coat, “that you would say something smooth and suave, then have me however you want. And I’d come crawling back every night."

In a quite unprofessional manner, if either of you even thought about that aspect at the moment, his hands slide up your thighs and hips only to rest on the curve of your waist. Then, Nikolai forcibly pulls you closer to him. First you yelp in surprise but soon you hear yourself gasping as his leg brushes against your groin.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth. "That sounds like a yes to me."

You can’t stop yourself from cradling his face, threading your eager fingers through his golden locks. Nikolai’s hot, ragged breath grazes your cheeks when you lean in. His lips are slightly apart, silently begging you to let him indulge in the sweet release of carnal desire. You lean closer to his ear, your voice comes out nearly as a growl:

"I'd say yes even if it's going to be the last thing I'm going to say."

His lips feverishly kiss your jaw and neck. A stifled moan escapes your lips and you swear you can hear Nikolai snickering.

[alienpossession]

Ethnographic Research: Part 2 (Songkran)

It's the biggest holiday of the year for Thai people. Songkran, or Thai's New Year, usually make Thailand filled to the brim with tourist from all over the globe that wanted to experience the festivities. It's crowded, it's loud and it's wet, the whole country especially Bangkok seemingly have no concept of sleeping during the duration of Songkran.

The parade last the whole day, and the party last even longer, creating this illusion of endless party as all of the people seemingly rejoiced the New Year.

So, it's only normal for the Mother Ship to capture that brimming energy from its scanner and deciced that two of the researcher should land in that spot since human seemingly packed the place, especially the very lively Bangkok

The 2 Xarthans should've landed close to each other for easier coordination after the takeover, but due to the technical issues to the pod, it diverted one of them from the planned landing spot.

So while this one comfortably slipped itself into the body of this fit hunk named Gun while he just finished dipping in the swimming pool and getting ready for a full day of partying, the other one have to struggle through the crowded city as it tries to make its way to the designated meeting spot

The less luckier Xarthan decided that the only way he can go undetected with this insane crowd of people is to blend in. It found itself landed near this giant plastic drum filled with water in the backyard of a random house so it dipped itself into it and started to break itself down into microparticles. The splash from the 8 feet tall alien entering the water drum must have alerted the human inside the house as he quickly checked on the drum to find nothing out of the extraordinary. Then, more men swarmed the water drum and revealed the gun-like items they bring with themselves. Not long after, the Xarthan found itself split into 5 water guns belonged to 5 different men, and if the visuals they watched in the Mother Ship turned out to be true, this is actually a perfect way for it to get into more human

---

While the Xarthan that landed on its designated spot already blended in and partied his ass out with everyone in the middle of the city, the adventure just started for the separated Xarthan, now also split into 5 different water gun. Aside from the glimpse it spotted earlier when those men peered into the water drum, it basically have no idea how the men looked like. But it didn't take long for it to finally started its spread as it found itself suddenly having multiple vision. The water shooting has started, and everytime a spritz of the infected water landed in these bodies, that body turned into a vessel right after the water particles slipped into the body either through the navel, the slit of their cock or asshole or even right through the orifices in the human face.

The takeover were quick and almost seamless, the human rarely felt anything as they considered it to be as simple as water trickling into their body. But when that sharp jab of takeover sealed their fate, they usually flinched but that meant it was too late for them to stop the process. The main Xarthan constantly emitted this transmission to keep all the new vessels in check, and they quickly converge in-between themselves so they are not scattered across the crowd. They would abandon whatever original plan of their vessel or the companion that they went together with, or even more sinisterly, grabbed their companion so their companion could also be shot by the infected water gun. What makes the festivity turned out to be a potent way to find good vessel other than the raucous water spray is the fact that for a lot of the time, people shoot water to others that they find attractive or likable, so no wonder that in just below 30 mins, the separated Xarthan found itself ended up controlling multiple different attractive bodies, and not just limited to local people as some of it ended up in tourists bodies too as Bangkok usually flooded with thousands of tourist during peak season like this.

When the sun eventually sets, the newly-minted vessels arrived altogether in front of the main party gate for the festivities. It can sense that the fellow Xarthan is already inside the party ground, so all of the different bodies started to swarm the gate to get themselves inside. Some of the vessels already have the tickets to enter the party ground, but some other unlucky ones decided to take matter into their own hands, either jumping into another host or even takeover security details or the staffers of the festival.

With more than 30+ bodies under control, it should've been an easy search. But the crowd, nearing 40,000 and counting, made it quite a challenging work as the vessels tend to get distracted by random groping and playful kisses landed to them. Eventually, the security details managed to find Gun as their bigger bodies plus the uniform managed to convince the partygoers to give them way. Upon eye contact, Gun playfully winked at the three securities that eyed him, knowing full well its his brothers split particles inside the securities body. Gun then used his mind to telepathically subdued one of the security to join him for some playful fun while the rest of the vessels gathered. It's easy to do so since the split particles definitely weaker in comparison to them staying intact as a singular entity. The subdued security then give Gun a lift, practically letting Gun piggybacked over his broad shoulders. Then, the excited Gun emitted the signal so all the vessels from his brothers can gather around and they can have the best of fun all night long. He's about to be surprised on how many bodies his brother acquired, but for now, he just want to have fun and ride on the energy his vessel exudes

[darklinaforever]

It kills me how many people think that the gender of a fictional character doesn't matter.

We are in fiction, where the characters have arcs, or they embody themes. Obviously for some characters gender matters.

Michael is literally named the new heir and freaks out about becoming a new John /basically taking everything he had.

Michaela can't really have this arc... Unless we strangely learn that the laws in Scotland are extremely different from England located in the Bridgerton universe (and I speak for the universe of the series, where we have no idea if they will stick to reality where women in Scotland could inherit), and I doubt it for the moment.

So no, Michaela couldn't necessarily have the same arc as Michael.

I'm not even sure she could be a Merry Rake. Can a woman be called Rake in show Bridgerton universe ?

The fact is that Michaela will necessarily differ at certain times from Michael.

Already there are always drastic differences between the show and the book, this time I think it will be even more emphasized. (I even doubt that we will have as many nods to the book as season 3 dedicated to Polin's story did)

In any case, the very basis of Francesca's story is that despite the loss of true love you can always have a second chance, which is a clear originality compared to the other romances in this series of books ; well, is already changed with the way the end of season 3 happened.

It seems that the marriage to John was a mistake, that the physical aspect of their relationship will not prove pleasant in view of the Fran's reaction to their kiss, and worse, that Fran doesn't feel true love for John.

True love in Bridgerton often results in great passion and similarities to the story of Edmund and Violet, and Francesca literally matches Violet's reaction when she first met Edmund, but this time when she meets Michaela.

Whereas Fran is never supposed to have this kind of reaction around Michael / Michaela as long as John is alive. Because she normaly truly loves him.

So how could the story be the same after such a change to the very heart of the story ?

It's not just the gender change from Michael to Michaela that makes the adaptation of When he was Wicked complicated and uncertain for some viewers, including me too, it is above all a whole.

But for some obscure reason people refuse to accept it.

Beyond that, I repeat, Michael Stirling is a fictional male character who has been around for years.

That people are disappointed, including me, not to see this character, as he is basically on paper, be adapted to the screen is not necessarily homophobic, assumed or internalized.

Yes, some are, but not everyone. Some of us are part of the LGBTQ+ community and no, we do not all suffer from internalized homophobia so as not to 100% validate such a change !

We're talking about an attachment to an image that we have formed in our mind about a FICTITIOUS character for fucking years !

Besides, I didn't even say that I was fundamentally against it, because I have already explained several times that a part of me was happy to see a main romance between two women on screen in the television universe for Bridgerton (and the actresses are magnificent and on top of that, I'm sure, will have very good chemistry). Once again, representation is always cool, but, is this really the right place to do it ? I'm not so sure.

And contrary to what some say, I'm not saying that LGBTQ+ relationships should systematically be secondary in fiction. No way. I'm simply saying that transforming one of the main canon ships of the books without which the Netflix adaptation would not exist is perhaps not the right thing to do, since there is already a community attached behind these characters...

And seriously, if the creators really wanted a main LGBTQ+ romance dealing with the Bridgerton universe, they could easily make a spin off dealing specifically with this part of society and how they live.

I'm sure many, including me, will watch such a spin-off ! And damn I would love for something like that to happen !

You see, the opportunity to have an LGBTQ+ romance at the forefront without changing the kind of characters mostly beloved by an audience that already exists. Not very complicated though.

Do you realize how inappropriate it is to insult someone homophobic for that things ?! I don't know what kind of fucking bubble these people live in...

And it's scary to say that you can be insulted by a community of which you are a part, simply for not conforming to everything that is judged 100% morally correct for them.

If you have the misfortune of delay, sometimes there are those who unleash themselves on you to insult you for things that you don't have, simply for a fictional character...

"You don't 100% validate that a fictional male character who has existed for years and whom you have loved for years, with a fairly precise image in mind as a result, becomes a woman in his adaptation ? Well obviously, it's is that you are, at worst, a homophobe, or at least worse an internalized homophobe, and in any case that is not tolerable and you are not a true ally and you are problematic who deserves to be hated."

I don't know if you realize how STUNNING this is ! There really are people on this app who need to get fucking treatment...

And anyway why am I racking my brains ?

There will always be stupid people to come and tell me that what I say is always homophobic because if I have a problem with the change of gender of a fictional character through an adaptation well I'm the real problem.

As they say, you can't change idiots.

So stay stupid if you want, but at least leave me alone.

[olderthannetfic]

I found AO3 pretty intuitive. Took me like 5 minutes to realize how all the little buttons work. They're pretty straightforward. Apart from the AND filters - took me a while to realize what type of filters AO3 used. Beyond that, I'm not sure why people have a hard time? Wattpad and FFnet are way more of a pain in the ass.

--

It's all about familiarity.

I mean, look, AO3 works how my brain works. When we first set it up, it was what we were all used to, more or less, but an upgrade. It was hard to even see how it could ever be unintuitive because this was just How Things Were. From the style of trope tags to the fact that there's an index of fandoms by media type, it was all familiar.

But that thinking is a trap.

It's easy to say "Oh, well, that person's just an idiot", and sometimes, the problem really is laziness or sleep deprivation, but a lot of the time, it's different cultural context.

By the time we were designing AO3, I'd had many rounds of formal instruction in how to use library catalogues of various sorts, familiarity with Delicious, years in LJ slash fandom whose assumptions form the metadata structures of AO3, etc.

There's nothing strange about going "Why are ship types a top level system of organization?" or "How do I search for genre X in any anime fandom but not in non-anime fandoms?"

It's strange to me, but it's not strange in the context of people who read fanfic overall.

It's not just about learning the search features that do exist: it's about unconscious assumptions about what metadata must exist.

If you don't know to look for something and you aren't coming from a culture where poking buttons is encouraged, you're going to take a lot longer to find things than if you already have a good idea of what's probably there somewhere.

To pick two very obvious examples:

If I were designing a gen-focused archive, I'd make genre a top-level organization system, like on FFN.

If I were designing a more x-reader-focused or One True Character-focused archive, I'd make the ship searches work like Character X/Anyone instead of having to click on each ship of your blorbo or each ship with Reader.

If someone has years of experience searching for some bullshit 'trickyfish' style nonsense ship name because they're on sites with garbage searches, they'll go to AO3, plug some words into the search bar at the top, and then feel like they can't find any relevant results because everything that turns up is just that word in author's notes on an irrelevant fic. They might even go to advanced search...

...and then totally miss that the sidebar filters are the best part of AO3, and they don't appear when you do a search search as opposed to starting from a tag.

Isn't Advanced Search the most... well... advanced search? On every other website, it is, but not on AO3.

--

Each new site/technology/culture/etc. a person has to learn takes time and attention. If you're exhausted and burnt out, that's hard. Even if you're not, it takes at least some effort. It doesn't Just Happen, not for every person and every new thing.

We should tell people to read the damn FAQ, yes.

But I can't say I always do that myself on every site unless I'm both having a problem and invested enough to care about solving it.

--

On an average day, most of us don't need to care why some people have a hard time figuring out AO3.

But if anyone is planning to design a site or needs to teach a bunch of kids how to use the library or something, it's worth keeping in mind just how many unconscious assumptions are hiding behind the idea of something—literally anything—being "intuitive".