#big gibber

[st4rshiptr00per]

gazing upon pictures of him the earring .......... also the costume rips

[kayyposie]

If you can believe it, I normally do less for artfight. I decided to do quantity over quality this year just to see what I could do.

[the-huxler]

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Counselors are worse than school nurses bc why did she tell me to breathe to fix my bus crash trauma

[foldingfittedsheets]

The location of the sex shop I worked was a haven for spiders. We had tall ceilings and skylights and unused storage rooms. It was a spider paradise. We quickly sussed out which coworkers to call on in case of emergency. The Dorito lady was a solid ally for spiders but absolutely petrified of moths.

But there’s actually a hierarchy of fear. Most people don’t realize. The person least afraid is the one forced to deal with the bug in question. If coworker B was scared, but coworker A was petrified, well coworker B was gonna have to screw their courage to the sticking place because by the law of fear they were the most competent person on scene.

Thus enters Rick. Rick first appeared in the back storage room. This room doubled as a second bathroom so we went in on a semi frequent basis. The girl who’d gone in to pee shot out again gibbering with fear about the biggest spider she’d ever seen had just run across her boot.

We sicced Dorito lady on it. She returned, shaking her head. “He was squatting on a power cord where it plugs in. I couldn’t get a clean shot at Rick.”

“Rick?”

She shrugged. “Spiders that big need a name. Seemed like a Rick.”

Rick, freshly named, became a store menace. I’d normally say this was probably a case of multiple spiders being mistaken for one but everyone who encountered him swore up and down there could be no mistake. This spider was massive, fast, and distinct. A gladiator among arachnids.

I never encountered Rick. His exploits grew in the telling but the theme was consistent: no one could kill him. He’d hunker in places that no one could reach and dart away when a strike missed. He also chased off the more faint hearted, charging them in bold dashes. There could be no benign cup transplant to remove Rick from the premise. He was not leaving.

The saga of Rick continued for two months. Not seeing him was almost worse, a fearful wariness when going to the bathroom or stepping into quieter areas. I waited with dread, hoping my eventual run in would have me on shift with Dorito lady to protect me.

It was not to be. There was a girl the same who hated my one moment of singing that was absolute piss-herself scared of spiders. She’d slam straight into a panic attack and couldn’t think or speak. And so it was that one night on shift, I heard her scream.

It was unmistakable. I was in the front window turning off the open sign. Through an obstacle course of mannequins and lingerie I performed an acrobatic sprint out of the window, darting up to find her quivering at the front counter, fully crying. I radiated calm at her and said, “Just point.”

I knew it was Rick. Our destinies were intertwined and we had always been pulled toward the inexorable battle that was drawing nigh.

Her hand raised to point to our sandwich board sign at the front of the store. So Rick had the metaphorical high ground. There was no quick easy strike on the slanted signs surface.

I armed myself and marched into battle, my knuckles white on my chosen weapon. I would do this, because I must. Because there was no one else. And because I wanted to close and go home.

I saw Rick immediately and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger spider since. Outside of a tarantula, he was truly the most massive spider I’ve ever beheld outside a zoo enclosure or terrarium.

We regarded each other. Rick launched off the sign toward me and I stomped my foot reflexively, making him pause in his charge. Then I raised my weapon. Anything else, I believe Rick could have evaded. He’d bested most of the store thus far. But I had chosen chemical warfare.

I doused the shit out of that spider with cleaning spray, stunning him with a barrage of chemicals. While he froze, choking on the unexpected deluge, I dropped a paper towel over him. My foot came down.

I felt his exoskeleton crunch and I can feel it still to this day. The shattering was as of bones and I truly mourned that we had been forced into senseless war. If only he has cleaved tighter to the shadows. If only he’d crawled willing into a cup for relocation. I released a full body shudder of horror, fear, and adrenaline as I stepped back.

I took several quivering breaths. I donned a veneer of calm and tidied the battlefield of it’s corpse then went to reassure my coworker that all was well, while internally I still shook.

You fought well, Rick. I hope you sired many more monstrous children to haunt retail workers in the years to come. Rest in valor, you monster.

[eand47]

Chapter V | Siri

Summary: You moved to one of the biggest cities in the world - Grand Line to pursue filmmaking career. Soon enough your path will cross with the vocalist of upcoming band called “The Neighbourhood”. At first you decided to be just friends - because it would be easier, but sadly as everything in life sometimes by taking the easy path we regret a lot of things.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Supporting characters: Nami, Usopp, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Deuce, Shanks, Buggy, Sabo, Eustass Kid, Koala, Robin, Dave (OC), (more to be add)

Description: Modern AU | Musician Ace

WARNINGS: explicit language, use of nicotine/cigarettes, use of weed/joint, slight smut, sexual content , mentions of alcohol, mentions of narcolepsy, conflict feelings, MINORS INTERACT ON YOUR OWN RISK (18+)

Word Count: 15,6K

<- previous chapter

NOTE: This chapter was rewritten like ten times and still I feel like it could of been better. As you can see from the warnings, there is some smut in it, as I decided to test the waters with it (please read the note at the end, as I don’t want to spoil anything for you at the beginning). I hope that you will enjoy the chapter as I tried to make it serious but also fun and unbelievable in some moments as it is usually in real life. Also a BIG BIG THANK YOU to all of you who comment, reblog, like and follow me it means the world to me 🥹🫶 And thank you for the sweet messages when I shared with you that I haven’t been feeling good this past week, you all are amazing human beings <3333

“It’s great, I was sure you gonna nailed it.” Dave tilted his head looking at me with a big grin spread across his face. I finished editing the footage for the music video last night and called him to meet me today for a coffee. We were sitting on a table for two in my favourite coffee shop. I was nervously biting on my nails, my brows frown not fully satisfied or convinced that the video was good enough.

“You sure? I don’t think it’s there yet.” I breathed out, rubbing my temples as I’ve already had a headache. “And I must send it by tomorrow as I promised Marco, a-and I must work on my short-cut as we start filming next week, a-a-and I don’t have location, I-I have nothing.” I gibbered, clicking on the computer mouse, opening different programs, trying to find a way to make it better. It was not good enough and I didn’t have much time left to sent it. “Why, why, why did I agree to do this?” Stress was taking over me these past days; I thought that I could manage a lot of things at the same time not realising that I was not ready for this yet.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Dave gently grabbed my hand and put the mouse away. He gently stared to run circles on my back trying to calm me down. “The video is amazing; you can’t do it any better than it is already.” He looked me in the eyes, and I could see that he meant what he was saying. “Take some deep breaths.” His tone was gentle. He put his arm around my shoulder pushing me closer to him. “You did great. Hell, I should show you the first video that I did, so you can see what a bad music video looks like.” I giggled at his attempt to cheer me up. I took a deep breath and tilted my head up as I could feel some tears building up in my eyes, ready to fall. “Hey, no crying.” Dave gently whipped the tear that rolled from the corner of my eye.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a cry baby I promise.” I chuckled trying to hold back the tears.

“I know you aren’t. I think you stressed yourself way too much.” His thumb continued to gently crease my cheek. I looked at him and nodded, my lip trembling. “The video is perfect, now save the files and just relax.” He reassured me again, giving me little squeeze on the shoulder.

“You are right.” I saved the files and closed the laptop. “Thank you, Dave.” I whispered, glancing at his sincere green eyes. He slightly nodded and gave me one of his sweet smiles.

“Don’t look at it anymore and just send it to their manager.” Dave let go of me and took a sip of his coffee. I also took a sip of mine and made a grimace. We stayed in silence for a second, as I was lost in my own thoughts, until Dave cleared his throat. “Can I... Can I ask you something?” He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to ask whatever he had in mind.

“Of course you can.” I turned all my attention to him.

“Is there something going on between you and I think his name was Ace?” His gaze focused on me.

“What? No, why?” My eyes were shifting between him and the coffee mug in my hands.

“Well, there was obviously some tension between you two on set, so I thought that you might... you know.” He awkwardly shrugged. I puffed and gave him a dismissive wave of with my hand.

“I was just pissed because he was late, that’s all.” I lied, something I caught myself doing a lot lately, especially when it came to Ace. “I hate it when people are not serious you know, and he wasn’t that day on set, so I got pissed.” This was not a lie. Ace did piss me off with his behaviour on set, not only for that, but Dave didn’t need to know.

“Yeah, that was a little annoying.” He agreed with me. “And arrogant.” Dave added. I side-eyed him for a second. “Honestly, from all the guys he was giving the weirdest vibes.”

“What do you mean?” I wanted him to elaborate more by what he meant by Ace being the ‘weirdest’.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. He is your friend after all.” The regret in his voice was clear as he quickly apologised but I shook my head.  

“We are not that close.” I pointed out. “But for real, why did you get this vibe from him? I personally think that Law is the weirdest.” I laughed, thinking of all the awkward situations I have had with Law. He was also the one I have spoken the least with.

“Nah, Law’s pretty cool.” Dave disagreed with me, nudging my shoulder. “Well, I don’t know... Ace was kinda giving me some weird looks.”

“What? For real?” I blinked surprised at Dave. “I didn’t notice anything. Are you sure he did?” Ace might be an ass from time to time, but I didn’t notice anything on set, he seemed pretty chilled with all of the guys.

“I don’t know, you are right and maybe I misread the situation.” I didn’t know what to respond, so I just gave him an awkward smile. “Look I didn’t want to bad mouth Ace or anything like it, I swear.” Dave run his hand over his hair, as he gave me a regretful look.

“Dave, please. You didn’t bad mouth anyone, if he did act like this then he is an ass.” I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. I didn’t want Dave to feel bad, for sharing his view of someone with me. “And I’m not going to tell him anything, so don’t worry.”

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

I got home and the first thing that I did was to take a warm shower. I took of my clothes and throw them in the laundry basket. Before I got in the shower, I put some music on my phone and left it on the sink. I got in the shower and let the warm water run down my body. It helped relaxing my tensed muscles. The whole room was steamed, making everything foggy. The past few days were quite stressful for me and the upcoming ones wouldn’t be any different. From shooting the music video, to editing it and the stress if they were going to like it, to my upcoming short-cuts, my mind was going to explode. On top of it I couldn’t stop thinking about Ace, no matter how hard I tried not to. In a way he had gotten under my skin. He was so suffocating and hard to understand at times. His whole behaviour was so confusing, one second, he was all nice, bubbly and open with me and the next he was cold, and moody and overall, an asshole. I confidently can say that I’m good with reading people and understanding why they act the way they do, but Ace was another story. From what he had shared with me so far, I knew that he hadn’t had it easy in life. Especially growing up without parents, it definitely took a tool on him. I want to get to know him more and be his friend, but I’m not sure how much he would let me in his life and mind.

I couldn’t stop thinking of the afternoon we spent together on Saturday, if I was to make a cheesy movie, I would definitely recreate it. I was surprised even then how much he opened, but then so did I. Not even Nami and Usopp knew about my mother. Something that Saturday made me trust him and that same thing made him trust me. Part of me started to wonder, what if he regrated opening, as it might have been too soon, giving the fact we have known each other for almost a month. Then the scene with Samantha, and the way he was enjoying it, made my blood boil. The satisfaction in his eyes when I cut the scene right before their kiss, and the cocky smirk he had on his face, like he knew why I did it, only added fuel to my irritation with him. And the audacity to text me right after.

“Fucking Ace” I cursed under my breath as I felt myself getting irritated once again. Rubbing the bodywash up and down my body and the hot water washing it away, my mind was full of Ace. I tried to take my mind off him, but I couldn’t. I felt this warm feeling building up inside of me. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I ran one of my hands down my neck to my breast. Closing my eyes the first thing that my mind thought off was the feeling of when I was holding onto Ace’s torso while we were on his motorbike. “No, fuck.” My eyes shoot open as I shook my head quickly getting rid of the thoughts. I tried to calm myself as I was getting heated up. I reached for the towel hanged next to the shower door and wrapped it around myself. “Fuckin’ Ace.” I whispered to myself. “Fucking Ace.” I called out louder, as I smacked my hands on the sink. “Fuckin’, fuckin’ Ace.” I got mad at myself for letting him have such effect on me.

“Calling Ace.” My eyes widen as I heard Siri’s voice. I grabbed my phone as quick as possible, which had already dialled Ace’s number. Because of my wet fingers the screen wasn’t responding, no matter how fast I tried to cancel the call.

“Hey, doll.” His voice raspy and low. “You aren’t mad at me anymore?” He snorted.

“A-Ace.” My voice came out like I was out of breath. I slapped myself on the face.

“Uh... doll? Are you okay?” His voice sounded confused. “You sound a little out of breath.”

“So do you.” I quickly replied.

“You caught me in the middle of workout.” He huffed.

“Same.” I looked in the mirror at my reflection making a grimace at myself at the answer I gave him.

“And what are you working out?” He didn’t believe my answer at all, I could of hear it in his voice.

“Running.” I spatted out.

“So, you are working our running... interesting. How many are you running?”

“Five.”

“Five what, doll?” He laughed. “You ran out of words or something?” He teased me.

“Kilometres, five kilometres.” I scrunched my face as I mentally slapped myself, as I couldn’t come up with worse answer than this.

“Wow, impressive. We should run together sometime then.” I just hummed in respond to this. “And what made you call me?”

“I...um...I called you... because...” I tried to think of a quick excuse as I tighten the towel around my body. “Because of the video.” I blurted out.

“It’s done?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes, and you are the first one to know that, remember how you ask me to be the first one to know, there you go. You welcome.” I chuckled, regaining my confidence.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I did not.”

“Ace, you did.” Was he trying to irritate me, and it was working.

“I asked you to be the first one to see it, not the first one to know.” He clarified. I bit my tongue, the audacity this man had was unmatched. “So when can we watch it?”

“I am going to emailed it to Marco, but if you text me your email, I can send it to you as well.”

“No, come over my place and we can watch it together.” I was taken aback from his suggestion.

“I’m extremely tired, so thank you, but no.” I politely decline his offer.

“Take a nap, it’s barely 3PM, I will come and pick you up around six.” He didn’t tell or ask me; he literally commanded me.

“Ace I just told you I’m tired.” I hissed.

“Didn’t I give you a solution just a second ago?” He was testing my patience at this point.

“Ace, I’m not the type you can order around.” I rolled my eyes annoyed.

“Is that a challenged, doll?” He teased.

“Ace you are...” He didn’t let me finish.

“Charmin, I know. Now tell me what your plans for the night are?” I could feel the smug smirk on his face without even seeing him.  

“Sleeping.” I spatted.

“I promise I will get you back home the latest around ten.” Ace wasn’t going to give up.

“You won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?” He clicked with his tongue. “Fine, but under one condition.” I sighed.

“Shoot.”

“You send me the address and I come by myself, because I’m not getting on that thing again.” He laughed as I referred to his motorbike as ‘that thing’.

“Sure, I’ll send you the address.” And with this he hung up. I ran my fingers through my wet hair and sighed deeply. I looked at my phone and whined.

“How? How did you hear ‘call Ace’, hu? Explain!” I was talking to my phone like it can respond to me. I didn’t know how to call this, but some cosmetic power out there was clearly beefing with me, as what just happened right now, was made up straight out of a movie.

**********

Around five-something pm, I woke up from the nap I took. I stretched my body and reached to take my phone and check the address that Ace sent me. It was thirty minutes away with the metro.

“Ops, guess I will be late.” I said to myself with a sly smile. Ace could wait for a little bit.

I put a pair of dark blue leggings on and just a white hoodie on top. I grabbed my bag, but first checked if I got everything with me. I left my place and went to catch the metro. After almost forty minutes I was in front of his front door. The area where Ace lived was quite nice depending on which side of it you live. He lived in the middle between the good and the bad side, which I found kind of ironic. From what I have gotten to know him so far, Ace was somehow always in between something. The building where he lived was old from the outside but renovated from the inside. He had sent me the code for the entrance door of the building, so I easily got in. His apartment was on the last floor and there was no elevator, so by the time I reached the seventh floor I was out of breath. I made a mental note to myself that I need to consider started working out. I chewed on my bottom lip as tension started to build up in me before I rang the bell, and a sight left my lips. I looked down as I was playing nervously with my fingers waiting for Ace to open the door. The door swinged open, and Ace stood in front of me. I lifted my head slowly and I was met with Ace’s bare upper body, as only a pair of grey sweatpants were hanging low on his hips. My eyes widen and I immediately looked away.

“You are late, doll.” A smug smirk was growing on his face as he saw me all flushed and avoiding his gaze.

“You are not the one to speak about who’s late or not.” I snapped quietly. He moved aside and let me in. I stepped inside and took off my shoes, kicking them on the side. Ace closed the door behind me, and I followed him. The apartment was spacious. By the entrance, on the left, was a door that was closed and next to it was the kitchen which wasn’t very big and had no door. From the small hallway we went straight to the spacious living room. The walls were anchor grey colour with some naked spots on most corners and you could see the bricks. The two big windows, on each side of the wall where a big TV was placed, were almost touching the floor, and some long off-white curtains were hanged on them. In the middle was a big L-shaped light grey couch with a square coffee table in front of it. In the right spaced corner Ace had a desk by the window, which was quite a mess with pencils and sheets of paper everywhere, even on the ground. By the desk were positioned three guitar stances, only two guitars placed there the third one missing. The corner wall there was covered in posters of different bands and artists. On the left side of the living room behind the couch almost to the corner was another door which was closed as well. The left side wall had another big window but that one didn’t reach the floor like the others. In front of it was big sideboard with a lot of picture frames on top of it. The apartment overall was super clean and tidy, which surprised me a little as I always thought of Ace as a messy guy.

“Wow, your place is amazing.” I said as he offered to take my bag, and I handed it to him, still avoiding looking at his direction. I sat on the couch where I saw the third missing guitar.

“Do you want to drink something? I have like coke and beer.” He came by the back of the couch and picked the guitar putting it back to its place.

“Is it zero?” I glanced at him, his back facing me. His broad back was defined with muscles. I always thought he had a back tattoo but apparently, I was wrong, instead the back of his shoulders was covered with freckles.

“Uh... I have to check.” He scratched the back of his neck as he smiled at me. I slowly nodded and moved my eyes away from his body as he left the room. My eyes landed on the paper sheets on the table and the pen on top of them. I tilted my head to take a better look at them.

“Do you want ice?” Ace yelled from the kitchen.

“Yes, please.” I yelled back. He came soon after with a can of Coke Zero and a glass full of ice. “Thank you.” I whispered as he handed it to me. I poured the Coke into the glass and took a big sip. Ace put the paper sheets away and sat on the other side of the sofa, leaning back as he spreads his legs like a slut, and pulled up his phone.

“Have you eaten?” He asked me without looking at me but scrolling on his phone.

“Uh, no I haven’t.” I murmured, swallowing hard.

“What do you want to eat?” He glanced at me.

“I don’t have preferences.” I shrugged. Ace looked again at me and sighed.

“Doll, relax please. You know you can lay or just lean comfortably, no need to be stiff at all. Feel at home, I mean it.” He threw one of the small pillows on the couch at me and I caught it. I didn’t say anything, I just hugged the pillow and leaned back on the couch. “So, I don’t know... Pizza?” Ace raised his eyebrows waiting for a respond.

“Sure, pizza is good.” I nodded.

“Have you tried this place ‘Pappa Grappa’ they have th-” I didn’t let Ace finished his sentence as I squeaked excitedly almost choking as I was taking a sip of the cola. Ace’s eyes widen at my reaction as he gave me a questionable look.

“Are you kidding me? They are the best! And oh my God, their chicken wings, have you tried them?” I moved to sit right next to him, excitement taking over me. Ace just shook his head in response to my question. I gasped. “Oh my God, Ace. Ace, Ace you must try them. You don’t understand those chicken wings taste like haven, like if haven was food it was going to be this chicken wings.” I grabbed him by the biceps and squeezed it, all my shyness left my body as I was babbling to him about the chicken wings. Ace smiled at my childish excitement.

“Doll, why don’t you take my phone and order whatever you heart desires and I just take care of the payment, hm?” He handed me his phone to take it.

“No, let’s split it thi-.” I insist but Ace shushed me fast.

“You are not paying for anything. Now choose whatever you want.” He leaned back on the couch, both arms behind his neck, eyes fixed on me. I wanted to protest, but arguing with Ace was impossible as he would never back up.

“But next time is on me.” I looked at him seriously.

“Yeah, sure.” He snorted. I couldn’t help but noticed that his abs tensed when he laughed. My eyes moved quickly back to his phone, as I felt a wave of heat hitting me up. I cleared my throat before I spoke.

“What pizza do you want?”

“Your choice.” I nodded to his response and went with my favourite pizza. Once I added the chicken wings as well, I handed him the phone so he could proceed with the payment. “So.. how are you doing, doll?” He put his phone in his sweatpants pocket and looked at me. Even though Ace had a smug look on his face, his eyes weren’t. His deep brown eyes had this soft look, nothing mischievous or mocking behind them, just pure softness.

“Been better, you?” I leaned on the couch, a bit of a space between us. I grab one of the pillows behind my back and put it on my lap as I brought my legs close to me and crossed them.

“Why’s that?” Ace frowned upon hearing my response.

“I’m just extremely stressed that is all.” I shrugged. “How have you been?”

“Same as always. Still stressed about your… short-cuts, was it called that?” He raised his eyebrow questioningly.

“Yeah, I haven’t found a location for the party scene, but I might ask Dave for help, as he might know someone who can let us film in his apartment.” I clicked with my tongue. Ace clenched his jaw as he hummed. “What?” I chuckled at his reaction.

“What, what?” He frowned his eyebrows.

“What was with that ‘reaction’?” I mimicked his jaw clenching and hum. Ace shook his head denying it.

“I never did this. But anyway, aren’t you here to show me the video?” He quickly changed the subject.

“Yes, I need my laptop.” I was about to stand up, but Ace stopped me and instead he did and brought me my bag. I thanked him and took the laptop out of my bag. I took a deep breath as I opened it, and it loaded. Ace sat closer to me this time, his body almost touching mine. “So, I edit it like thousand times, but this is the final edit. I was literally going crazy over it and Dave had to calm me down and reassured me that it is good.” A little giggle escaped my lips. I was too focused on the screen and didn’t see Ace rolling his eyes.

“I’m sure you did a good job.” Ace bit the inside of his cheek. I slightly tilted my head and side-eyed him, before opening the video file.

“Okay, are you ready?” I asked before pressing play. He nodded, his face emotionless. ‘Asshole’ I thought to myself, at lease he could pretend that he was excited to see his own video. I pressed play and the video started. My eyes were moving between the laptop and Ace the whole time, but I couldn’t read his face. His face was like a stone. I started to feel more and more uncertain with every passing second, biting on my nails now afraid of his reaction. What if he doesn’t like the video or worst hate it? My thoughts were running wild, while his eyes were glued to the screen. The video ended and I waited for his response.

“So…. What do you think?” I swallowed hard, the tension he was building was killing me.

“Oh, doll…” He clicked with his tongue, shaking his head as he pursed his lips. My eyes widen at his reaction.

“No, no, no.” I shook my head in distress. I jumped on my feet as I covered my face with my hands. “I knew you were going to hate it, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” My eyes filed up with tears immediately and my lip started trembling.  

“No, no, hell, don’t cry, doll.” Ace jumped from the couch and grabbed me by the shoulders. “I was kidding, please, don’t cry.” He tried to calm me down.

“No, you are lying.” I didn’t believe him, his reaction said it out loud that he wasn’t happy with the video.

“No, I’m not.” He cupped my face in his hands making me look at him. “(Y/N), the video is amazing. I swear upon my dead mother I love the video, doll.” I blinked at him, as a tear rolled down my face. Ace quickly whipped it with his thumb. “Doll, please don’t cry. I just wanted to mess around with you a little, I swear.” He pulled me towards his chest and wrapped his arms around me. My heart skipped a beat. His skin was so warm and soft, yet his body felt so hard and muscular. I froze in his embrace. My heartbeat fastens, we have never been this close before, except from when were on his motorbike but that was different. I took a deep breath, and I got lightheaded. I never noticed how good Ace smelled - a woody, citrusy and musky notes perfectly mixed in one creating this intoxicating scent of a man. Ace let go of me after a moment and took a step back, lifting my chin up with two of his fingers looking at my eyes. “I’m sorry.” His eyes were sincere.

“You really like it?” My voice came out like a whisper.

“I don’t like it, I love it. I knew you can do it.” He moved a strand of my hair and gently put it behind my ear.

“You are an asshole. I hope you are aware of that.” I frowned my eyebrows at him, as I turned and sat on the couch, facing away from him. Ace smiled and sat next to me and pulled me closer to him with one hand. He wrapped it around my shoulder and whispered in my ear:

“I am. But please don’t be mad at me, doll.” His breath was hot on my skin, and I got goosebumps all over my body. I turned my head to look at him our faces inches apart. I slightly open my mouth to say something, but nothing came. My brows still frowned as I was still affected. He was just observing me, not saying anything, his eyes soften again.

“I should be packing my stuff and leave now but be thankful that I’m starving otherwise I would have been gone by now.” I finally told him, turning my head away from him. Ace heartly laughed and nodded agreeing with me. His phone rang and he quickly picked up – it was the delivery guy and Ace told him that he was going to come down in a second.

“Faster.” I yelled after him as I heard him opening the front door. He just laughed in response before closing it. I huffed and looked around. My eyes land on the big sideboard with the picture frames. I got up from the couch and went to look at them. They were mostly of him with his brothers or friends. I picked the one of all three of them as kids smiling wide with one front tooth missing, Luffy looking so much smaller than his big brothers, they were no older than eight or nine years old.

“Snooping around?” Ace said behind me. I jumped a little as I didn’t hear him coming back at all.

“Sorry, hope you don’t mind me looking at the pictures.” I chuckled still holding the frame. “This is super cute picture.” I pointed out.

“Wanna hear the story behind it?” I nodded eagerly as I handed him the framed photo. “So, me and Sabo lost the same front tooth at the same time. I think we were around nine years old. And to not feel left out, five years old Luffy went, and till this day we don’t know how he managed but took out the exact same tooth. Kid was so happy that he was matching with us, until he had to wait two years for the tooth to grow back.” Ace placed the picture on its place and we both laughed when he finished the story.

“This is so funny, but I feel so bad for poor little Luffy.” I cooed.

“Yeah, poor Luffy.” He smiled. “Come on, doll. Your wings are here, don’t want them to get cold, do you?” He pinched my cheek and turned around. Just before I followed him, my eyes landed on a picture that caught my attention. I gasped, Ace heard me and tilted his head to look at me. I carefully picked the frame in my hands. The picture was of a woman. Her hair was long very light strawberry blonde colour, a hibiscus flower was placed behind her left ear. She was smiling, her dark brown eyes were full of life and her face was cover with freckles. Ace came and stood closer to me, not saying anything.

“That’s you mom, right?” I looked at him, he was looking at the picture with so much adoration and softness. He softly hummed in response. “God, Ace she was gorgeous.” I whispered. Looking at her now I understood where Ace got his beauty from.

“I know.” He softly said.

“You look so much her.” I smiled at him. Ace looked at me with wide eyes, full of surprise and shock.

“What?” He breathed out. I put the picture back making sure I positioned it as it was before I picked it up.

“What? D-did I said something wrong?” I blinked confused.

“N-no, you are just the first person who has ever said this to me.” There was both surprise and sadness in his voice. I raised my brows not expecting to hear this.

“Are you kidding me? You are literally like her twin.” Ace swallowed hard when he heard my words. It didn’t take me long to realise that I stuck something within him with my words. I saw his reaction and gently took his hand in mind and gave it a squeeze. “I think there are some very delicious chicken wings and pizza waiting for us.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him trying to distract him from his thoughts. Ace cleared his throat and nodded, shaking the thoughts away. We sat down on the coach, and I excitedly started taking the food out of the bag.

“Could you please bring two plates and a lot of napkins please?” I flutter my eyelashes at him. He quickly got up and did exactly what I told him to do. He came back and handed me the plates as he sat down closer to me this time. “So, are you ready, to try the most tender, mouth-watering, making you taste haven, juicy, flavoury rich, orgasm reaching chicken wings in the world?” I seriously said while looking at Ace in the eyes. He covered his mouth trying to hold his laughter but his whole body was shaking. I opened the box with the wings and smelled it breathing out loudly. I took two and handed one of it to Ace.

“Now, this is not an ordinary chicken wing, so you eat them a certain way.” I lift my finger in the air pointing out how important it was for him to listen to me carefully now. “You grab the wing, you place it in your mouth and then just bite on it and pull out the bone. They are so tender that a gentle bite strips all the meat, you got it?” I pointed my finger at him.

“Got it.” He lifted his hands in the air, like he was under arrest. I gave him a cheer with the wing and nodded letting him know that he can eat now. I did the same, the moment the juiciness and the BBQ sauce touched my tongue I couldn’t stop the moan that left my lips. I leaned on the couch as I was enjoying the taste, my eyes closed. Ace was taken aback from my reaction last thing he expected was to hear me moan. He swallowed and licked his lips, looking at me.

“Doll, you good?” He lifted his head a bit to look at my face.

“I’m having soul orgasm now, please don’t interrupt me.” I lifted my hand to his face to make him stop talking. Ace burst out laughing, he put the plate to the side as he grabbed on his stomach. “What are you laughing at? This is better than sex.” I chuckled.

“Look, doll. The wings are good, I give you this – you were right about them, but…” He took a breath trying to calm himself down. “Nothing can beat sex.” He shook his head at me as he opened the pizza box taking a slice of it.

“Sex is overrated.” I disagreed with him as I took another wing, enjoying the test of it. Ace snorted out when he heard me.

“Doll, all respect here, but if you have slept only with boys who had no idea how to please a woman, that’s on them, not sex.” He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes at his comment. “Why the eye rolling? You know I’m right. Come on, if it’s not that personal and uncomfortable for you… have you never you know… had a mind blowing sex?” He deeply exhaled; his eyes were full of curiosity a little devilish smile playing on his lips. I sighed gesturing him to hand me a slice of pizza. He did and I thanked him, as I took a bite of it. I lifted my finger to tell him to give me a second before I response.

“I’ve done it only once so far, and it was bad, like embarrassing bad.” Shivers ran down my spine as I remembered my first time. My face cringed at the thought of it.

“Sorry to hear that, doll.” He chuckled before taking a bite of his slice. “When was it?”

“Last year.” I replied. “Yours?” I glanced at him.

“I was seventeen.” I got surprised by his answer. “What?” He noticed my reaction.

“Nothing just… I thought… I don’t know… like you are going to say something like fifteen.” I shrugged.

“I wish.” Ace huffed and we shared a laughed. ”But seriously, just because one guy did you bad, doesn’t mean all of them will.” I gave him a look and rolled my eyes at him. “Hey, take it as an advice from a friend.” He pointed his finger at me.

“Sure, Ace, sure.” I gave him a thumb up, as I was taking another wing.

“Hm, come here.” Ace gestured me with two fingers to lean towards him. I did and he ran his thumb on the corner of my lips. “You had a little sauce on you, doll.” He licked his finger clean.

“You could give me a napkin.” I remarked licking my lips.

“Why? I can always clean you good.” He smirked at me. I facepalmed myself, shaking my head as I tried not to laugh. I couldn’t deny it, but I always have fun around Ace. The moment I relax around him it feels like I could be myself without any modesty. We finished eating and I stood to clean the table, but Ace stopped me again and told me that he would take care of it. I checked the time, and it was already 9PM.

“Wanna smoke one?” Ace asked me when he finished cleaning around.

“Oh, I don’t smoke cigarettes. Plus, I have to go it’s getting late.” I half smiled at him.

“Stay the night, you can sleep in my bed, I can sleep here.” Ace shrugged as he sat next to me again. “And I didn’t mean cigarettes, I have some weed… you know we can roll one.” He winked at me, a little smirk playing on his lips.

“Thanks Ace, but some other time. I must search for a place where I can shoot the party scene tomorrow, as I have like five days until it’s my turn to film it.” I leaned my head on the back of the couch and tilted it towards Ace.

“I can help you with this just stay the night, plus I’m ether driving you, as I will not let you go alone at that time, or you stay here for the night.” His face might not seem stern, but his tone was.

“Am I a hostage now?” I lightly chuckled and pouted my lips.

“Hostages don’t have choice, but you do.” He raised his eyebrows waiting for my response.

“I don’t have anything with me Ace, not even a toothbrush.”

“I can give you one. Something else you would need, doll?” He leaned closer to me, his eyes locked with mine. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, shaking my head.

“You are so persistent.” I pushed him on the chest. Ace laughed at me before he got up from the couch.

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

We shared a joint and now we were laying on the couch, soft music was playing in the background from the speaker. Ace was lounged on the couch, hands behind his neck, his head propped on the back of the couch. I was laying on the couch with my head leaned on Ace’s lap. I felt so high, as I couldn’t remember the last time I smoked weed. The silence between us was terrifically comfortable.

“Ace...” I whispered tilting my head up, to take a better look at him. He hummed in response not looking at me. “What made you believe in me?”

“What do you mean, doll?” His voice raspy and low, almost like a whisper.

“You had never seen any of my work, yet you trusted me enough to direct your band’s first and most important video...” I took a deep breath. “Why?” Ace didn’t respond at first.

“I don’t know, doll. I had a feeling, so I went with my gut.” He finally looked at me, his eyes were half lidded as usually but this time they were so red. He was probably as high as me. I slowly nodded moving my gaze to the wall covered with posters, knowing that I won’t get any further answers from him. As I was lost in my own thoughts I felt his hand on my head, his fingers running through my hair. This made me relax even more. “But I wasn’t wrong.” Ace broke the silence. “You did great, doll. Believe more in yourself.” My heart skipped a beat when I heard him saying this.

“It’s hard, you know?” I whispered. “I can’t shake the ‘imposter’ feeling in me, no matter what people tell me.” I quietly confessed. “It doesn’t mater how good something turns out to be, it is never a hundred percent perfect, you know? Like it can aways be better, yet it can never be perfect. Nothing can ever be perfect...” My voice was so low, I wasn’t even sure if Ace heard me. His fingers moved slowly and gently to my cheek caressing it. I leaned into his touch closing my eyes.

“I know what you mean, doll.” He softly said, voice still low and raspy. “I feel the same, after every show. I have been living with the ‘imposter’ syndrome my whole life.” I was listening carefully to Ace, as he was opening to me again. “I wish... I wish, I have been feeling, as an imposter, only for when it comes music, but... I feel that way about everything, even life itself.” I turned my head to look at his face. His eyes were looking at me. Sadness and doubt could have been read in them. I turned my body to the side and placed a hand on his chest, heart beating steady. His fingers still on my cheek as he was running them up and down slowly. “I feel like I’m bringing the guys down all the time. After every performance we have I’m a mess... and the feeling of not being good enough for anything never leaves.” My heart ached for him. Not only because I knew what he meant as I related to him, but because he didn’t deserve to feel this way. Ace was very talented and a good person as well, even when he was acting like an ass sometimes, but now more than ever I understood why... it was all an act, to protect himself. “Don’t even get me started on the family shit...” He huffed.

“Now I understand why ‘What's eating Gilbert Grape’ is a movie you related to.” Ace huffed again, but this time with a half smirk. I rose up and sat on the couch. I moved closer to Ace, who’s hands were now rested on the back of the couch. His head still leaned back on, he just side-eyed me. I slowly lifted my hand and without words, just with an exchange of looks I asked for permission if I could touch him. Ace barely nodded as he blinked letting me know without words or big gestures that I can touch him. I slowly ran my fingers through his dark locks. His hair was thick and little wavy, so soft in touch.

“Yea, even thought we are the same age with Sabo, I have always been the big brother, and I had to be the man in the house on top of it. A lot of my life choices were based on how it would affect them, but I can’t complain really, can I?” He might have said it like a joke, but the hint of bitterness was as clear as a glass. “You know, I might be twenty-five but sometimes I feel like I’m forty-five, life is so tiring at time.” I only nodded, not sure what to say and not knowing if I should say something in a first place. Ace closed his eyes, and I continued to play with hair by running my fingers thought it.

“You know...” I took a deep breath before I continue. “I might not have siblings or had the exact same difficulties in life as you... but I can always listen and be there for you, as I understand what it feels like, under different circumstances than yours of course, but still... After all what are friends for?” I placed a small smile on my face and swallowed hard, the word ‘friend’ was starting to take a bitter taste on my tongue. Ace opened his eyes and looked at me.

“Sure, doll. I’ll keep this in mind.” A half smile appeared on his lips. After a moment of silence Ace spoke first.

“You look tired, wanna go to sleep?” I didn’t want the night to end, yet. But even high I could sense that this conversation affected him in some way, and I didn’t want to push any further. I just nodded in respond to his question. He got up from the couch and I followed him. Ace opened the door to the room that was behind the couch and switched on the lights. The walls in the room were entirely naked all the bricks visible. In the middle was a big wooden pallet bed. In front of it was a big bookcase covering the entire wall. He had all sorts of books, movies and CDs on it. On the right side of the bed, next to the wall he had two black clothing racks, all his clothes hanged there. The left side had a big window with two white long curtains hanged on both ends.

“Do you want to change in something more comfortable?” He leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. I didn’t pay him much attention as I was admiring his film collection, reading all the titles he had.

“You have so many DVDs.” I exclaimed amazed, I knew Ace was a big movie fan already, but I didn’t know about his DVDs collection. I was even more surprised to see that a lot of them were also quite recent movies. “You know streaming platforms exist nowadays.” I teased him and tilted my head to look at him. Giggle escaped my lips, as I saw Ace faced flushed for a first time ever. I quickly stood in front of him and poked him on his stomach, as he was trying to avoid my gaze. “I didn’t know you are such a geek.” I poked him again and he tensed his muscles after every poke.

“I’m not, I just like to collect things that I like.” He grabbed my wrists before I land another poke on him. He tried to give me a warning look as I tried to fight him.

“Geek, geek.” I couldn’t stop giggling as I could see him getting more and more flushed.

“Okay that was it.” Ace said before he yanked my body and tossed me on his shoulder with an ease. I squeaked, everything around me spinning from the fast motion.

“Ace, put me down.” I closed my eyes, still trippy from the weed. “Ace, Ace please.” I whined and begged him. He was laughing at me as I was squeaking and kicking my feet in the air, my arms around his torso as I was afraid that he would drop me.

“Not so confident now doll, hu?” He tossed me up on his shoulder again and I screamed closing my eyes as I thought he was going to drop me. Ace laughed out loud as he gently laid me down on the bed. The soft mattress hit my back as Ace propped his arms on both sides of my body. His face buried at the crock of my neck. Ace couldn’t stop laughing, his body and muscles trembling and tensing. I could feel his hot breath on my neck and goosebumps ran all over my body. He slowly lifted his head and looked at me. Both of us were still high, I could see the redness in his eyes as we locked our gazes. His laughter calmed down and his eyes darken. I felt my mouth run dry as I tried to swallow the burning feeling inside of me. All that could be heard was the muffled music from the living room and our slowed breathing. The deja-vu from the Halloween party hitting my memories. This time I didn’t close my eyes as I did before. He was studying my face the same way I was his. My heartbeat quickens, and I slowly raised my hand placing it on his chest. His skin was so soft. Ace closed his eyes as he drew a sharp breath in. I could feel his heartbeat matching mine. We stayed like this for a moment. I slowly moved my hand up to the back of his neck, the urge to pull him closer to me taking over me, but I still hesitated. Ace wasn’t moving at all and closed his eyes, as his breathing got heavy. His whole body tensed as he tried to move away from me. He sat on his keens on the bed and his eyes shoot open in panic. I push myself up on my elbows with a confused look on my face.

“Doll, have I told you that I have narcol-“ Ace couldn’t finish his sentenced as his eyes rolled back and his whole body went numb. My body rose immediately and caught Ace by the arm, pulling him towards me with all the straight I have had in me. My heart was going to explode as I didn’t know what to do, and the fact that if I didn’t react so fast Ace was going to hurt himself so bad. His body was laying in my arms, as I gently placed him on the mattress.

“Ace.” I whispered trying no to panic, as I had no idea how to help him. The only thing that kept me as calm as it was possible to be in this situation, was the fact that he was breathing steady. I gently tucked a lock of hair away from his face and placed my hand on his cheek and caressed it. My thoughts were running wild, as I had no idea how long he was going to be passed out like this. I pulled my phone out from the pocket on my hoodie and started to type fast what to do in situations like this one. My eyes were moving between the screen and Ace all the time. A few minutes later Ace started to open his eyes. I froze on the bed not being able to move as I didn’t want to scare him or something. He covered his face with his hands and rubbed his temples.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Ace groaned loudly, as he looked at me with worry and embarrassment written all over his face. “Doll, I’m so sorry. Please, tell me are you okay? Did I fall on top of you? Are you hurt?” He sat on the bed but kept a distance between us.

“I-I’m okay, are y-you okay? What happened?” I blinked at him, the shock of what had happened still haven’t left my body.

“I’m sorry, if I scared you.” He shook his head as he cursed under his breath. “I’m narcoleptic, guess I forgot to mention it before.” He mumbled as he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with me. I reached and placed my hand on his knee squeezing it.

“Ace, it’s okay. I just got panicked because I didn’t know what to do to help you. Does this happen... a lot?” My brows frowned slightly as I was concerned about him. Ace finally looked at me. He rubbed his chin and shook his head.

“Kinda, but I haven’t had a cataplexy attack in the past eight months.” He seemed lost in his own thoughts. Now that I know that he is narcoleptic, this explains why half of the time he looked so tired or emotionless. “And you don’t need to do anything, the attack passes by itself in a few minutes, and I’m still conscious in the meantime anyway.” He shrugged as he explained to me.

“Does your body hurt? I caught you in time, before you hurt yourself bad, but still I had to pull you quite hard...” I moved closer to Ace, and he snorted.

“I’m all good, doll. Don’t worry I have fallen quite a lot, so I’m used to take hits.” I pouted at him when he tried to turn this into a joke.   

“Ace, it’s not funny.” I murmured. “Do you take pills for it?” I softly asked him.

“Yeah, I do. Everyday, as I have type one narcolepsy.” He gave me one last look before he got up from the bed. “If you want to change into something more comfortable take something from my clothes.” He was about to walked out of the room when I stopped him.

“You can sleep in your bed, I can sleep on the couch it’s not a problem at all, or I can call myself uber an-“ He didn’t let me finish.

“Doll, go to sleep. I’m fine, just don’t pity me now, okay.” His face was serious, while his voice was more laid.  

“I’m not pitying you.” I quickly replied as I frowned my eyebrows again.

“Good.” He said as he grabbed the doorhandle to close the door after himself. “Night, doll.”

“Goodnight, Ace.” I quietly called after him as he closed the door. I sighed looking at the closed door. He was so stubborn sometimes, most of the time actually. I got from the bed to change to one of his t-shists. I found a simple white t-shirt that looked like it would sit on me like a dress, so I took my clothes off and put it instead. I turned off the lights and got into his bed. The room was not completely dark as the curtains were open and some streetlight was reflecting. I buried my head in the pillows, which smelled so much like him. Thoughts were running all over my mind and all of them were about Ace. I was tossing and turning around until sleep took over me.

**********

In the morning, I woke up around ten something. I rose and sat in the bed for a second, looking around. A yawn escaped my lips as I reached to grab my phone. My eyes widen with shock as I saw I had a message from one of the actors for my short-cut film asking where I was, as we had arranged a meeting today in the morning. I quickly called them and apologised, asking them if they could still meet me in thirty minutes. Thankfully they could so I quickly got up from the bed and dressed myself with my cloths, tossing the white shirt on the unmade bed.

“Ace?” I called out when I stepped outside the room. I looked around for him everywhere, but I couldn’t find him. Finally, I saw a note on the coffee table. I grabbed the note and read it.

“I have some early morning stuffs that I must do, I left you toothbrush in the bathroom. Eat something. There is a spear key by the door, lock it and drop it inside the mailbox. Ace” I read out loud. An unpleasant feeling set in my stomach. I didn’t expect at all to wake up and not to see him. I shook the feeling away and ran to the bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth. I found the spear key and locked the door behind me, dropping the key back in the mailbox. I quickly ran down the stairs and then to the metro station. While I was in the metro, I typed a short message to Ace that I dropped his key in the mailbox and thanked him for letting me stay over last night. It was so cold outside today; I was freezing with the leggings and the hoodie only. I got to the university as fast I could. Running down the hallway I ran into someone’s back accidently as I couldn’t pass by them on time.

“I’m so, so sorry.” I turned to tell them, only to be met with Dave’s green eyes.

“(Y/N), why are in such hurry?” He smiled at me, confusion written on his face.

“I forgot that I have a meeting with my actors for the short-cut and they have been waiting for me for an hour now.” I quickly explained.

“Ohh shit, then run, catch you later.” He sent me off as he flashed me another smile. I returned the smile and ran to the room where the actors were waiting for me. I apologised to them again, but they brushed me off by saying that they understood.

“Okay, let me get my laptop and we can go through the script.” I smiled at all four of them. “Fuck, no” I cursed as realisation hit me. I forgot my backpack at Ace’s place. I ran my fingers thought my hair pulling it as I tried to take some deep breaths and calm myself down. I have everything on my phone as well so it shouldn’t be a problem. They all locked at me confused as I turned around. I explained quickly what I have done, and they shared some looks between themselves. I couldn’t blame them; I was all over the place today.

“I have it on my phone so it shouldn’t be a problem.” I pulled my phone which had only thirty percent battery left. ‘Perfect, just perfect’ I thought to myself, before I started the meeting with the guys.

After an hour and a half, we were done, as we even had some time to rehears and improvise the scenes. I thanked them and told them that I will send more information regarding their rolls tonight. They bit me goodbye and left. With the remaining five percent that I had left, I texted Ace a quick message that I have forgotten my bag at his place, and I really need it as I have everything in it, even the keys to my apartment, and I would be grateful if he could bring it to me. While waiting for a response from Ace, I texted Dave to see if he was still around school. He quickly replied to meet him in the chill aera. I made my way there and he was sitting with some classmates of his. He greeted me with a big smile as always and made me some space to sit next to him.

“How was the meeting?” He asked as he saw my tired face.

“Uh, don’t ask, I made a fool of myself in front of them. They probably think that I have no idea what I’m doing, and they won’t be wrong. I’m all over the place today, I even forgot my bag so I had to work from my phone, which has no battery left.” I complained and I buried my head in the palms of my hands. Dave laughed at me and softly ran circles on my back.

“Nah, you are beating yourself up again.” He spoke. “Also, what Marco thinks of the video? Did he like it?” I almost broke my neck when I raised my head fast, as I totally forgot to sent Marco the video. Dave saw my reaction and frowned. “Please, don’t tell me you forgot to send it to him.” I slowly nodded my head at his question, biting on my lips hard. “Call him and apologies immediately, as this will come out very unprofessional.” Dave handed me his charger so I could plug my phone to charge. The moment it started to charge I called Marco immediately. I explained to him the situation and he told me not to worry much just to make sure to sent it to him by four o’clock today. I thanked him and we ended the conversation.

“Well, that went well.” I exhaled as I sat back down next to Dave. I checked my phone, but I still had no response from Ace. “He gave me time until four o’clock.” I told Dave. He patted me on the shoulder.

“Why don’t you go home and send it now?” He suggested.

“Because I wasn’t at home last night and even my keys are in my backpack.” I mumbled. ‘Why wasn’t Ace responding?’ was all I could think about. “Sorry, what?” I asked Dave to repeat as he was asking me something, but I didn’t pay him attention.

“I was asking whe-“ He got interrupted by my phone ringing. It was an unknown number and I hesitated before I picked up.

“Hello?” I spoke.

“Hey, (Y/N). It’s me Luffy.” Luffy’s cheerful voice filled up my ears.

“Oh, hey Luffy. What’s up?” I was so confused. How did he get my number and why was he calling me.

“Ace gave me your number to contact you, as he said you forgot you bag at his place last night and I must bring it to you as soon as possible. So where are you?” My whole mood changed in the span of a second. Why was Ace making Luffy do this? And the thing that offended me was, couldn’t he texted me and tell me that Luffy will do it? I would have understood him that he was busy or whatever he was doing right now, but this... this hurt me a bit.

“(Y/N) are you still on the phone?” Luffy’s voice brought me back to Earth.

“Yes, yes, sorry. Um, I’m in university but I can meet you somewhere close to your place, as we live close by, and I need to go home anyway.” I suggested.

“Okay, perfect. How does it sound in one hour, as I need some time to get to Ace’s place.”

“Yeah, sure. See you in an hour Luffy.”

“See you.” He said before hanging up.

The pang in my chest was very unpleasant. Why did he do that? I checked my messages, and he haven’t even marked them as read. Did I do something? I started to recall last night in my memories to think of something that might have triggered this behaviour in him, but I couldn’t think of anything. I felt a hand on my knee, I looked up and I met Dave’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” His voice sounded concerned.

“Yeah, just tired.” I gave him a half smile. “Hey, by the way by any chance do you know anyone who might be up to let me use their apartment for my short-cut, as mine is way too small?” I asked him, as this was another thing that I had to stress about.

“I must check with my friends, but I will let you know.”

“Thank you, I will also need some extras so if you know anyone who wants to be in front of camera give them my number.” I chuckled.

“I need your number first, before I can give it to other people, you know?” He winked at me.

“What? You don’t have it?” I exclaimed surprised. Dave clicked with his tongue and shook his head. I gestured him to give me his phone so I could put my number in it. “There you go.” I nodded at him as I handed him the phone back. I looked at the time and decided that I must leave to where me and Luffy agreed on meeting. “Thank you for the charger.” I gave it back to Dave.

“Any plans for tonight?” He asked me before I leave.

“No, but I’m planning to stay at home as I really need one night by myself.” I exhaled loudly as I was really tired.

“I understand. Well, if you change your mind let me know.” He got up and hugged me goodbye.

**********

I waited for Luffy close by the supermarket that I knew it was close to his place. The weather got even colder and at this point I was freezing. I was bouncing on one leg to the other trying to keep myself somehow warm as I couldn’t feel my toes.

“(Y/N).” I heard Luffy’s voice calling and I turned around. He had a big grin across his face. I waved and started to walk toward him to meet halfway. Luffy gave me a big warm hug. “You are freezing.” He pointed out as he handed me my bag.

“Thank you Luffy, you are a life safer.” I sniffed.

“Come on, I will walk with you.” He said and we headed towards my place. “So how have you been lately?”

“Well, been better, very stressed lately. But once next week is over, I will be able to finally relax.” I smiled at him as shivers run down my body.

“Do you want my hoodie as well, I have a t-shirt underneath.” That was so nice of him, but I shook my head. “Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes full of concern.

“I’m sure.” I nodded. “But how are you? Haven’t seen you since Halloween.”

“Prety good, preparing for competition.” He responded.

“What competition?”

“Oh, you might not know but I run marathons. I have already won five, but this one is nothing big, only for people from my university.” He explained.

“Wait, you go to university?” I had no idea that Luffy studied, Nami and Usopp have never mentioned anything, and so did Luffy.

“Yeah, I’m studying animation.” His smile grew even bigger.

“What? Are you for real?” My eyes widen in surprise. I would have never guessed that Luffy was studying something as hard as animation, I didn’t even know that he can draw.

“Shihihih, yes, I am.” Luffy laughed at my reaction. “Don’t worry everyone react like this, I’m not the smartest out there, but I’m not stupid.” He raised his chin. “I might be a little dumb sometimes tho.” He nudged my arm. We laughed together. “But why are you so stressed?”

“Well, your brothers video first, it was a big challenged. And second the short-cut projects, maybe you have heard about it from Nami or Usopp. I need to find a nice apartment as soon as possible where I can shoot my film.” Tension took over my body once again.

“I can ask Sanji. He lives in a very nice and big apartment, I’m sure he wouldn’t say not.” Luffy pulled out his phone and quickly typed something in it. “Done.” He grinned at me. “I will let you know when he response.”

“Oh my God, Luffy you shouldn’t have to. Thank you so much.” I gave him a hug. He laughed again.

“Nothing to thank me for, Sanji still haven’t replied.”

“But still just the fact that you asked him, is so nice of you.” I smiled at him again. Luffy rubbed his chin and turned his head to look at me.

“By the way, is something going on between you and my brother?” Another thing about Luffy was that he was very straight forward.

“No, nothing. We are just friends, that’s all.” The bitter feeling came back, as I answered Luffy’s question. “Why?”

“It was just super strange, like... Ace never lets girls sleep over his place, so when he called me today in the morning to tell me to bring you your stuff, I got quite surprised.” He didn’t seem to give it a second thought, for which I was glad. But also, what he said caught my attention. Why wouldn’t Ace let girls stay over his place? That was strange.

“No, Luffy. Nothing is going on between your brother and I.” I repeated to assure myself more than him. “He just wanted to see the video first and then we just chitchat and it got late, and he offered me to stay over as I was super tired.” Part of what I said was true. “But could you please not tell anyone, as I don’t want people to get the wrong idea, you know...” I looked down at my fingers and nervously played with them.

“Didn’t plan to tell anyone anyway.” He winked at me. We reached my place, and we turned to face each other. “I will let you know when Sanji response.” He hugged me.

“Thank you, Luffy. You are the best.” I said returning the hug. We said goodbye and I ran to my apartment as I was freezing. The first thing I did when I got inside was to turn my laptop on and sent all the files to Marco. I made myself a cup of tea to warm myself. When all the files for the video were sent to Marco I relaxed a bit. I looked the at clock and it was barely 3PM. Instead of wasting time I pulled my sleeves up and started to work on my final touches for the short-cut. I was so focused on work I didn’t realise that almost two hours had passed since I last checked my phone. I had a couple missed calls from Marco, a message from Luffy and one from Usopp. I returned the call to Marco immediately before checking the messages from Luffy and Usopp. The phone rang a few times before he picked up.

“Hey, Marco. Sorry for not retur-“ Marco interrupted me mid sentence.

“(Y/N), great job with the video. I love it and so did the guys. We will release it on Tuesday. You definitely have the talent for it, kid. Keep the good work going.” He ended the phone call so fast I couldn’t process what he just told me. I just nodded to myself before checking the messages from Luffy and Usopp.

‘Sanji said that you can use his apartment, here is his number to contact him for more info.’ I got so happy when I read Luffy’s message. I immediately texted Sanji to thank him and to ask if I could meet with him and see the apartment so I could do my floor plan. Then I moved to Usopp’s message in which he congratulated me on the video.

‘Thank you, for helping me <3’ I texted Usopp back.

I couldn’t stop myself from checking if Ace at least marked the messages as read. He didn’t. Part of me wanted to text him and ask if he was mad at me for something, but I didn’t. He was in one of his moods again. I would just need to wait until he was in the mood to talk with me again, but I’m not sure how much I would want to speak with him then. I tried to shake him off my mind, as I got back to work.

********

The gym was almost empty due the fact that it was Friday night, so most people were skipping today, so they could get ready for a night out. Law glanced at Ace, who was too focused on his bench press set. Ace was clearly disturbed today, as he hasn’t been this moody in a while.

The music was blasting in Ace’s ear as he was focused on his set, not paying attention to anything else. Last night was on repeat in his mind as he couldn’t get (Y/N) off from his mind. The things they shared, how much he had opened to her, something he had never done before with another girl. On top of it he let her sleep not only in his house but in his bed. He broke his main rule, no girls over his house. Especially his bed, as in his mind that meant letting someone in your very personal space. And Ace hated to have people not close to his heart invading it. In the morning when he woke up, he had to go to his room as he had to get dressed for the day, but he had forgotten to take some clothes the night before. He entered the room as quietly as possible and quickly grabbed the first pair of jeans and a hoodie he could see. Ace couldn’t contain himself and took a glance at (Y/N)’s sleeping form. She was sleeping peacefully all wrapped up in the bedsheets, hugging one of his pillows. Ace smiled at the sight of her. ‘Yeah, you look like the type that likes to cuddles’ he thought to himself. He cursed under his breath for even thinking that and quickly left the room. No woman before has been let this close to him. He was letting (Y/N) too much into his life. Not only this, but he has never had a cataplexy attack in front of a girl. Yes, he has had his daily narcolepsy episodes in front of girls, but never to a point where his muscles weakness. Part of him was embarrassed, but he was more concerned about the fact that she had this effect on him. On the other hand, it was good that it happened as Ace knew he was about to lose it last night. The way she wrapped her arms around him wanting him closer, knowing that she wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her. God he was going to take her right there on the spot. And the moan that had left her lips when they were eating, he could listen to this for hours. He could only imagine how sweet it would sound to listen her moaning and whining under him while he has his ways with her. Whoever had his way with her must be a fool to messed it up so badly. But it didn’t mater, as Ace was not going to step over that line with her. She wasn’t a girl for a one-night stand, and he couldn’t give her what she deserved so he had to keep his distance from now on. Ace wasn’t a relationship guy, neither he planned to be anytime soon. So, for a bit he must distance himself form (Y/N) for her own good.

Law dropped the dumbbells he was using and went to where Ace was working out. He was in the middle of his set when he saw Law standing next to his bench to spot him. Ace grunted and breathed out loudly, once he finished with the set and put the barbel back. He rose from the bench sitting up, pulling his headphones on the side.

“I don’t need you to spot me.” He spat at Law.

“I can see that.” Law crossed his arms over his chest as he glanced at the added weight to the barbel. “But you kinda going to die on the spot if you fall asleep pushing 160kg, you know.” He pointed out.

“I wish I can go away that easy.”  Ace murmured before grabbing his water bottle and taking a sip.

“What’s up with you Ace?” Law face got serious and so did his tone. Ace gave him an annoyed look.

“Nothing.” He replied putting his headphones back before he laid on the bench press for another set. Ace rolled his eyes as he saw Law not moving away, but instead standing to spot him. He finished with his set and got up to add some more weight to the barbel. Law was just looking at him, wondering what got him so heated up. Adding how stubborn Ace was, Law knew that it would take him some time to make Ace tell him about what was bothering him.

“Pushing for a new personal record?” Law looked down at Ace as he loaded the weight. He didn’t get any response from Ace as the music was blasting in his ears.

When they were done with their workout before leaving the gym Law asked Ace if he was up for a drink later, even thought he was sure Ace would tell him to fuck off. Surprisingly for Law, Ace agreed. They bit each other goodbye and left the gym. After ten minutes ride Ace parked his motorbike in front of his building. He let a deep sigh once he entered his apartment and closed the door. He threw his gym bag on the floor and went straight to the bathroom. The first thing that caught his attention was the pink toothbrush he left for (Y/N) on the sink corner. He huffed and grabbed the toothbrush ready to throw it away but stopped himself for a second. ‘What if she needs it again?’ the thought crossed his mind before he had the time to assimilated it. Realising what just went thought him mind, he threw the toothbrush immediately.

“The fuck is wrong with me?” He cursed himself as he shook his head in disbelief of his own thoughts. He stripped himself from the sweaty clothes he was wearing and got in the shower. Ace adjusted the water to the coldest and let it run all over his body. His whole body tensed from the ice-cold water. He bit on his lip hard suppressing the groan that wanted to escape his lips. Looking down at his body Ace cursed under his breath again.

“What am I now? Fourteen?” He hissed as he wrapped his hand around his hard erection. “Come on, go away.” Ace whined as even the cold water wasn’t helping. He ran his hand through his wet hair. Ace closed his eyes as he squeezed his hand around his throbbing cock, letting a low grunt. He took a few deep breathes before moving his hand up and down. The thoughts of (Y/N) occupying his mind once again. This time he let the thoughts of her run through his mind. He couldn’t help but imagine her – down on her knees, looking at him from under her lashes. The way her (eyes colour) eyes would beg him to fuck her mouth. She might not be a virgin, but he would definitely need to teach her how to please him. Ace took a sharp breath just thinking of this. ‘Yes, yes I will teach you everything you need to know, doll’ a smirk appeared on his face when he thought of it. She was smart, so she would learn fast. He would make sure to teach her exactly how to wrap her pretty lips around him.

“Fuck.” Ace grunt as he threw his head back just thinking of her lips. The way they would feel kissing and wrapping around his dick. Ace propped his hand on the wall while fasting the pace around his painfully hard length. To have her, right here, right now would feel like heaven. Ace would be gentle with her, at least at first. He would let her take her time, as she would lick like a kitten the pre-cum leaking from his pink tip. Then the way she would wrap her pretty lips around it and give a twist with her tongue. She would cover it all with kisses while giving him slow stokes, preparing herself to take it. To then watch her struggle taking all of him in her pretty mouth, having to wrap her hand around what she couldn’t take. Ace would lose it then, as he wouldn’t be able to control himself anymore and just start to fuck her sweet mouth. The way he would wrap his hand around her hair, pulling and guiding her how to please him. A loud moan escaped his lips as he felt that he was getting close. The image of her, on her knees, his cock in her mouth, having her choking on it while hearing her begging whines and tears running down her eyes while he deepthroat fucks her. The more he was thinking of it the closer he was getting. If she was here, the way Ace imagined her, he would make sure to paint her face with his cum. Her pretty face, all covered with his hot cum, dripping down on her and her pretty lips. This though alone made his whole body twitched and his hips jerked as he gave himself one last stroke and cum spilled all over his hand and wall. Ace cursed loudly as he threw his head back from the feeling of release. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as he tried to collect himself.

It took him sometime to calm himself down as he felt the cold water on his back. He quickly switched the water to a normal temperature as washed his body. Ace cursed himself again. Maybe the reason he was so attracted to (Y/N) was because he restrained himself. If he had already fucked her maybe she wouldn’t have crossed his mind ever again. He just needed to get laid that was it, and he was planning to do it tonight.

Ace got out of the shower and grabbed his towel wrapping it around his hips. When he entered the bedroom, his eyes landed on the unmade bed and his white t-shirt that he saw (Y/N) wore while sleeping. He grabbed the t-shirt, and the smell of her perfume hit him. Ace went and threw it in the laundry basket frustrated. Last thing he needed right now was a piece of clothing that smelled like her. He took his phone and looked at the time. It was already nine o’clock. Ace quickly towel dried his hair and tried to style it but gave up leaving it falling messy around his face. He put a black sweatshirt on with a dark grey pants and a belt around his waist. Grabbing his jacket and keys Ace left his place.

It took him twenty minutes to reach the place where he and Law usually hang out. The bar was very known around Grand Line. Ace entered the place and looked around for Law. He was sitting by the bar and when he saw Ace he waved at him. Ace nodded and walked to Law, taking the seat next to him. Law was wearing a white loose fit unbuttoned shirt with some dark blue pants.

“What are you drinking?” Ace asked him.

“Old fashion.” Law replied while taking a sip of his drink. Ace nodded and turned to order to the bartender who gave him a charming smile. Ace smiled at her and made his order. While making it she didn’t take her eyes off him.

“One ‘Old Fashion’” She said sultry while placing the drink in front of Ace. He just winked at her and gave her an extra tip when he paid. “Thank you, let me know if you would like something else.” She returned the winked and went away. Ace chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

“So, are you in better mood now?” Law wasted no time getting straight to the point.

“What made you think I wasn’t in a good mood earlier?” Ace turned to the side to look at Law.

“Come on, Ace. What’s with you recently? Especially today.” Law crossed his arms waiting for Ace’s respond.

“Nothing, I told you.” Ace took another sip of his drink.

“Ace I’m not buying this shit.” Law knew that something was bothering his friend, and he wasn’t planning to drop it that easy. “Is everything okay at home?” he couldn’t think of anything else that might get Ace this worked up.

“As far as I know, yeah.” Ace bluntly answered. Law rubbed his beard frowning his brows at him. “Law drop it, man. I’m... I’m fine.” Ace started to tap his fingers on his glass avoiding looking at Law. They stayed like this for a moment before Ace broke the silence. “Did you fix things with Robin?”

“Kinda.” Law murmured. Ace raised his eyebrow at him. “She wants something serious, and I’m not sure that I can give her that.” Ace snorted when he heard Law’s response. He raised the glass to his lips to take a sip of it but couldn’t contain his laughter so Ace burst out laughing. Law pushed his shoulder, making Ace look at him.

“Sorry, bro. Just...” Ace started to laugh again.

“Man, what’s so funny?” Law was so confused by Ace’s reaction.

“You two have been on and off for two years, at this point make up your minds.” Ace chuckled. “Damn, and I thought I have it bad..” He murmured under his nose.

“Wait, what?” Law raised his brows confusion. “Is this whole attitude thing because of a girl?” Ace clenched his jaw and side-eyed Law. Now it was Law’s turn to burst out laughing.

“Oh, shut up.” Ace rolled his eyes at him. Law continued to chuckle when he looked at Ace and tried to calm himself. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“It’s not the blonde girl, what was her name Savanna?”

“Samantha and no. She was just a quick fuck, even tho she hasn’t stop blowing my phone.” Ace rubbed his temples.

“Oh, oh, I have a guess.” Law smirk as Ace glanced at him. “It’s the little director, isn’t it?” The way Ace clenched his fingers around the glass told Law everything he needed to know. “Hell, I’m right, it is about (Y/N).” Just the mentioned of her name made his whole body tense. “So, care to share?” Law chuckled.

“Nothing is happening between us, so there is nothing to share. We are... just... I don’t know, not really friends let’s say acquaints.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, sure. Don’t think I’m blind.” Law snorted. “The tension you two had on set could be felt from miles away. And the looks you were giving to the guy behind the camera...” He mocked Ace, who was clearly getting worked up all over again. “So, care to explain exactly what is going on between her and you?” Law was patiently waiting for Ace to start talking. Ace cursed under his breath before looking at his friend.

“She slept over last night.” Ace murmured. Law’s eyes widen as he heard this. That was definitely something new. “We didn’t do anything, tho. We could of but I got cataplexy attack. Which has never ever happened before with a girl.” His cheeks started to flush. “And another thing is that she listens, man. Not only listens, but she also understands me. I have opened to her about some personal stuffs can you believe it?” Ace spat; Law was carefully listening to him. “But that is not like my main problem right now...” He started to massage his temples, deep breath escaping his lips. “I know that I don’t like her, like... you know something serious as I don’t want anything serious, but at the same time I’m weirdly attracted to her, and I think it is because I restrain myself.”

“What do you mean by ‘restrain’ yourself?” Law raised his eyebrow confused.

“I can’t sleep with her.” Ace fussed. “She is so close to Luffy’s friends, and they are the same age, come on. I see all people at Luffy’s age as kids.” He took a big sip of his drink almost finishing it. “On top of it she is Shanks’ niece.” Ace added, giving Law a knowing look.

“Ace it’s just four years. Plus, she seems, well, she is quite smart girl, so I think you are the one who makes it too complicated, not her.” Law couldn’t really see the problem. When they were filming the video together it was clearly that there was some chemistry between them. “Plus, you can always be like fuckbuddies, no feelings attached just sex. Just sleep with her once, and if you continue to feel that way then get all this moody and shit.”

“She will get attached.” Ace whined. “She told me that she had slept with a guy only once, and it was bad on top of it, so basically, she is a fucking virgin.” Law nodded understanding at Ace’s statement. “And she is a very nice girl. You know, I will feel bad to just use her for one night.” He might be an asshole, but he wasn’t that big of an ass, to play with someone like (Y/N)’s feelings.

“So, what do you plan to do then?” Law was carefully studying his friend’s face.

“Distant myself for now. But this time for real, as I tried before but... never mind. I just need to get laid that’s all.” Ace explained, his eyes not leaving now the empty glass. Law decided to not say anything further. The solution was easy but Ace was stubborn, so it was pointless to give him any advice.

A few drinks later, both Ace and Law were having a good laugh; talking about the band upcoming projects, and things that both were interested in. Time flew fast and it was around midnight when something caught Ace’s attention mid-conversation. He squeezed his eyes trying to see better. His eyes landed on a girl, and she looked super familiar from the back. Was that (Y/N)? The hair was the same colour and length. She also seemed to be the same height. He hesitated for a moment before he turned to Law and told him that he would be back in a second. Ace slowly made his way to the girl. If it was (Y/N) what was he going to tell her? Why was he even going to check if it was her, when he literally told himself to keep his distance with her. It was the alcohol. Yes, he can blame it on the alcohol. And if it was her, he could just say ‘hello’ and that’s it, out of politeness. He felt his heart beating faster as he was close to approach the girl. When he stood behind her, he gently tapped her on the shoulder. She quickly turned around, and it wasn’t her. The girl flashed him a cute smile.

“Yes, can I help you?” She fluttered her lashes at Ace.

“Oh, sorry. I mistook you for someone else.” Ace smiled at her and was about to turn around and leave when she put her hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Hey, not so fast.” She flashed him a smile. “I’m Diane.”

“Ace.” He replied. Ace took a better look at her. She low-key looked like (Y/N), not as pretty, but still nice. “How is your night going Diane?” A smug smile formed on his face.

“Pretty good. Always can get better.” She bit her lip, her tone sultry. “Who were you looking for?”

“Doesn’t matter. Came across something better.” Ace saw the way her cheeks blushed. These cliché lines were always working. Not always, he knew someone who was going to roll her eyes and tell him to come up with something better. But Ace shook away the thought of (Y/N). He had her low-key doppelganger here, so it would work for the night.

“Are you alone here?” She wrapped a curl around her finger and played with it.

“I have my friend over there.” He pointed at Law. “Would you ladies mind us joining you?” Ace nodded his head and looked at the two other girls sitting with Diane, flashing them a charming smile. They all giggled and told him that they wouldn’t mind. Ace turned to look at Law who was looking at his direction. He nodded his head at Law to come and join them. Law got up and made his way to them. He introduced himself to the girls and started to chitchat with them. They were giggling and blushing at him. Law wasn’t planning on doing anything with anyone tonight as he had promised Robin to go to her place after, but still little flirting with some girls wouldn’t hurt anyone. It didn’t go unnoticed by him that the girl Ace was focused on was quite similar in looks to (Y/N). Law has been there before and done that. Trying to fill the void he was feeling with girls looking like Robin, but at the end of the day none of them were her. Law didn’t want to say anything to Ace, as he knew how his friend stands on relationships, but the whole ‘I will keep my distance’ or ‘we will just be friends’ bullshit wasn’t going to work. At the end Ace was either going to end up in the same situation as Law, or maybe worse.

Another hour passed and Law received a message from Robin, asking him where he was. That was his reminder that the night for him was over. He excused himself to the girls and went to Ace to tell him goodbye.

“You are leaving?” Ace asked surprised. His eyes were half lidded since he got way too many drinks tonight.

“Yeah, man. Robin is waiting for me.” Law patted him on the shoulder. “Take care tonight, okay?” Ace rolled his eyes at Law and waved him goodbye. Law took one last glanced at his friend before leaving.

“Wanna go to your place?” Ace smirked at Diane who was sitting in his lap. He ran his fingers up and down her shoulder and neck. She cupped his face and eagerly smacked her lips on his. Ace returned the kiss, taking her lower lip between his teeth biting it. The kiss quickly grew hot as Ace’s hands started to roam all over her body. “Should I take this as an ‘yes’?” He whispered in her ear. Goosebumps ran all over her body and she just nodded her head. She called an uber and they quickly left.

Her hair might have not been as soft to touch as (Y/N)’s, neither her skin smelled as sweet as hers, and the way her eyes were looking at his didn’t spark any flame in him. But she was just for the tonight. And she had similar look to her. He didn’t even need to look at her face. The moment they laid on her bed, Ace turned her on her stomach, bending her over. And something dark took over him. He did care for the pleasure of the girls he was sleeping with. Always taking his time with them, making them feeling good first. But tonight, he was selfish. This girl wasn’t (Y/N). She was a cheap replica, nothing close to what he would feel or do to her if his doll was here. Even her moans didn’t sound anything close to hers. But again, this wasn’t the biggest problem. The biggest problem was the fact that (Y/N) wasn’t leaving his mind. And this was something that has never ever happened before. Somehow, she had found her way to get under his skin and he needed to burn her from there as soon as possible.

next chapter ->

END NOTE: I really hope you guys enjoyed it. I know that the 'smut' part wasn't anything wow, but I'm just testing the waters with it. At first it was totally different and it wasn't planned to be for Ace, but now I'm happy that I decided to write it for him, as in a way it suits his character more. Please let me know what your thoughts about it and what could I change in the future for when I'm writing a smut (u can either comment or message me). Also I felt so awkward writing it, but is it a fanfic if there is no smut in it? Feel free to comment and reblog, much love <333

[eardefenders]

Sherlock & Co - Mailbag Episode 4 Transcript

00:00-00:29 *Intro Music*

00:28 John: Hello there, Mister Flatmate.

00:31 Sherlock (Resigned): What is it and why have you got your laptop?

00:34 John: It’s that time! My fine fellow-

00:34 Sherlock: For goodness sake. *sounds of him moving on furniture*

00:36 John: Oi, where you going?

00:38 Sherlock: I’m getting my cushion.

00:39 John: Your cushion?

00:40 Sherlock: Yes. Here. This one.

00:42 John: That- that’s Mariana’s.

00:45 Sherlock: Ah, it’s mine.

00:46 John: I know it’s her’s. I bought it for her for Christmas.

00:50 Sherlock: Are you sure?

00:51 John: Yes, because you don’t support Real Sociedad and she does.

00:56 Sherlock: *pause* I could.

00:57 John: Yeah, you could, but you don’t. Ok- *gibbers* It doesn’t matter. Just sit on the bloody cushion. Fine. Qs! And indeed As! Here we go. Uh, ahem, mm, just a disclaimer here, to the patrons. Um. I’m old. Uh, I’m thirty-four. If-if I see a question in the Discord, I-I just ask it. Uh, if it’s in the wrong order or i-if I’ve missed some out. It’s-it’s probably just me not seeing it. So, y’know. Right-o! Uh-Ooo! Off to a flyer here! Milque asks, “Favorite tube line?”

01:29 Sherlock: Victoria.

01:30 Yeah, Victoria. Yeah, yeah. Generally, most Londoners will give that answer. Umm, y’know clean trains, not too many stops, and some big stations on there. Y’know King’s Cross, Euston, Oxford Circus, um Victoria, obviously. Um, some other lines worth mention: Bakerloo brings a certain vibe. B-bit of a sort of kooky, deranged, but pleasant elderly uncle that doesn’t wash kind of vibe. Uh, central line is possibly the most hated, ah, especially during the summer. Um, Piccadilly gets a lot of people headed to Heathrow, so it comes with a lot of baggage. Hah! Literally clambering over suitcases on that one. The Elizabeth line is amazing, but seems to be closed or delayed most of the time. Um, so thanks for listening to TubeCast!

02:20 John: Heh, right. Next question! SaraHawke722 asks, “How do you both know Stamford?” Stamo! The Stamster! I think therefore I Stam. Heh, uh, I-I added those bits. They didn’t say that. Uh, right. Sherlock you go first.

02:36 Sherlock: I met him at St. Bart’s.

02:39 John: That’s uh Saint Bartholemew’s Hospital in London

02:42 Sherlock: I know.

02:43 John: Yes, I know, I’m just telling the listener.

02:45 Sherlock: *pause* Right… I met him at St. Bart’s. There was a study on skin grafting that he was undertaking. I initially made a number of enquiries about the study, he then hired me to work with him on it. Then after that he wanted me on other projects that I didn’t find that interesting, but *with emphasis* he did let me use the lab.

03:03 John: Great, uh ok, um, I met Stamo in Freshes week at University. Um, the University of London. W-which is kind of affiliated with UCL and King’s College London.

03:15 Sherlock: By kind of affiliated, you mean it’s for their underachieving undergrads.

03:19 John: Uh, sorry mate, what University did you go to, exactly? *silence* Yeah, right, thought so. Uh, by the way, um, few of our American listeners have mentioned that you and Victor went to college together. College in the UK is sixteen to eighteen, generally speaking. Um, but, sorry Sherlock, posh lads will sometimes call boarding school a ‘college’. Uhh, I d-I don’t know why. They also call their private boarding schools ‘public schools’. So, yeah, I know. Weird lot. Uh, anyway, yeah, met Stamo at University of London in Freshes week, we both liked football. He’s a Villa fan, Aston Villa that is. We, we kinda were, uh, both out of our depth a little bit with medical degree life, so y’know maybe stuck together. Which. Which was stupid really as you should probably attach yourself to some smartarse, but hey! Y’know! Live and learn! Uh, he started to do well at Uni. Um, he went on to y’know big-big private practice and cosmetic surgery for the most part. And I got shot at for a living, so. Yeah. Listen in school, kids. Listen in school. Uh, WeirdScience asks “Do you believe in ghosts?”

04:32 Sherlock: No. Do you?

04:33 John: Uh, no. No, no. Joff asks “Sorry to be intrusive doctor, but did you suffer any hearing loss during your army days?” Pardon? *wheezing laugh* Ha, uhh no. No, seriously, I did. Um, I burst an ear drum, twice, um, actually, in Afghanistan. I-in my right ear. Uh, thought it was fine, but then after Ukraine when I was getting a full body M.O.T. as it were, there were signs of hearing loss. Um, yeah, but I’ve been lucky I think. I hope it doesn’t get worse as I’ve built my career in audio now. So. Yeah-yeah, but uh a little. A little bit. Um, JellyBaby says, “Dogs or Cats, podboys?”

05:18 Sherlock: I prefer vermin.

05:19 John: Hm. I uh prefer dogs, through and through. Yeah. Um, y’know I like a cat, but they don’t get me. Dogs get me. Ain’t that right, Arch? Heh. Uh, don’t know where he is actually. He’s probably downstairs with Mariana. Catonk asks, “What’s your favorite musical?” We-well it won’t be ‘Cats’! Hahaha! Ahh, Sherlock, your favorite musical?

05:43 Sherlock: What’s the one with the man?

05:46 John: The. The one with the man. Um. Right. You’ve just described the entirety of art and media there.

05:54 Sherlock: He has a piano and he lives in a cave.

05:57 John: Piano in a cave?

05:59 Sherlock: There’s a girl he loves. He-he-he’s got half a face.

06:01 John: Ohh! Phantom of the Opera.

06:04 Sherlock: Yes! I thought that one was okay.

06:07: Great. Yeah, no, it’s a good’un, it’s a good’un. Good answer, I like Phantom. I like Les Mis. I know that’s a boring answer, but some incredible songs in that. Uhhh, yeah. Question via email here from Sartori, “Did you feel bad for Violet Caruthers, because I did.” Um, well yeah, I did. Um. She, uh- I-I-I don’t know how to put it, really-

06:34 Sherlock (interjecting): Had given up control of her life.

06:36 John: Yeah, it was- I don’t know- confidence shot to shit? Th-th-the truest sort of victim I think I’ve ever seen, really. She just, uh, she couldn’t grasp the wheel on her own life. Like Sherlock says. Was that why you were reluctant on that case, Sherlock?

06:55 Sherlock: Very much so. Men had muscled in and filled the gaps she had created from her own insecurity. I didn’t wish to be yet another imposing presence.

07:05 John: But we were.

07:07 Sherlock: We were. And what good did it do?

07:10 John: Saved a bloke’s life?

07:11 Sherlock: Mm, we didn’t pull the trigger but we may as well have. And we set the process in motion.

07:18 John: Welllll… right. Yeah. Okay, didn’t think this q and a session would get so deep. Um. But, yeah, t-that, uh… Welcome to True Crime! *awkward huff laugh* Yeah, we don’t always run off or cycle off into the sunset. Um. Yeah. Uh, okay. Mush-Pit asks, “How many languages do you know?”

07:47 Sherlock: Many.

07:48 John: Great.Uh, why?

07:50 Sherlock: When I was young, I often fooled myself into thinking perhaps it was my grasp of language that was the reason that I didn’t quite fit in. So, I decided to try a number of other languages to see if they worked as a better and more effective means of communication. I wondered whether the nuance and subtle signals of the English language were what was holding me back from social environments. So, I attempted other languages.

08:14 John: Right, and how did that go?

08:15 Sherlock: It’s the same. It would appear it’s nothing to do with language.

08:20 John: Yeah, I’m inclined to agree with you there. I’m rubbish with languages. Ha, it never sticks for some reason. Um, hole in my brain I think. Mariana is also a dab hand at the old languages. She cracked open a bit of Russian the other day. I nearly ducked for cover! * laughs at his own joke* Uh, *clears through* RangerPip asks, “Have you seen any of the fan content Sherlock?”

08:42 Sherlock: Yes, because you keep showing me. And sticking things on the fridge.

08:46 John: Uh, yeah because they’re cool. They’re really good mate! Just-just you wait until I show you the presentation.

08:52 Sherlock: The what?

08:53 John: Nothing. Right question via email from Unbelted, “Does the fingerprint in your logo make an ‘S’ and is that deliberate?” Yes, um is the answer to that. My idea, thanks. Uh, Jones asks, “What’s our spice tolerance?” So, um, right. Okay, yeah. I can go really spicy for Indian. Uh, I can hit the searing temperatures of the Madras and the Vindaloo no problem. Lot of Brits can actually. But I tell you what, Indonesian and Thai spicing I feel. Geez, whew, that is-is a whole different realm of spice. Um…phew. S-sherlock?

09:32 Sherlock: I like the sensation.

09:35 John. Yep, uh. Anything else to add?

09:39 Sherlock: It depends on my emotional connection to the food.

09:42 John: Of course, of course. Well, a-a-as mentioned in Gloria Scott, Sherlock will only eat certain foods if he’s in the right mood. The mood for food, heh. Uh, right-o. Few general questions asking how pancake day went. Uh, yep. No dramas. Went well. Went ‘flipping’ great. Eh? Hehe. Uh, yeah, uh oo! Questions and comments. A lot from North American Podpals, uh, about me describing a woman as ‘tasty’. Um. So, ‘tasty’ is a Carol Watson word. Uh. T-t-the sort she would use for young, handsome men that she flirts with when she can. Um, don’t know what the American equivalent would be? Um? Yeah, you know, what’s a lame word used to describe someone as good looking? Y’know what would an elderly woman use basically…get in touch! Right, another question here. Uh, by the way, when I started this whole question and answer thing, Goalhanger and I thought this would be a great way to field questions about cases. Um. Y’know about the people we meet, about the nature of the crimes we’ve dealt with, uh to fill in possible knowledge gaps, and impart little gems of information that expose the murky nature of crime. Um. Which takes us to this question from Saphhster, “John, what are your thoughts on ranch dressing?” *long pause* I mean, yeah. I like it. I like it, it’s good stuff. Um, Sherlock is nodding. Uh, it’s audio mate. Great. Thanks for your contribution. Uh, Tonky asks, “Does Sherlock have any tattoos?” Apart from my face on his bum. Heh, that’s a joke. That’s a joke, don’t write in. Sherlock, tattoos?

11:26 Sherlock: A spiral on my hip.

11:28 John: What?! Alright, well let’s see! Get it out. *sound of clothes being moved/removed* Oh, well that’s rubbish.

11:34 Sherlock: I know.

11:35 John: Why’d you get that done?

11:36 Sherlock: I-it’s scarring from falling out of bed. I had it filled in because it looked like a spiral.

11:42 John: Okay. Sarah Hawke again with a question, “What is your advice about dealing with a noisy flatmate? Would love both your takes on this lol. I’m at Uni and have a noisy and slightly annoying flatmate. Somehow I’ve agreed to live with them next year as well.” Um, okay Sara Hawke, w-

12:03 Sherlock (cutting John off): Try to tune them out as best you can. Bring in other elements to distract you from their noisiness.

12:09 John (cutting Sherlock off): Sorry, what are you doing?

12:10 Sherlock: Answering wonky-blonk’s question.

12:12 John: It’s not ‘Wonky-Blonk’, it’s Sarah Hawke. Who’s Wonky-Blonk?

12:15 Sherlock: They’re all called that.

12:17 John: Look, I live with a noisy flatmate, alright, it’s clearly directed at me.

12:20 Sherlock: They said both of us.

12:21 John: Yeah, but they added a ‘lol’, okay. That means they recognize the irony of you being asked.

12:26 Sherlock: Why?

12:27 John: Because you initiate a fucking marching band at three am every night.  Ssssake. Uh, yeah, Sarah Hawke, I would say get some earbuds. Play music. Uh, white noise is good. Um, oh, I l-looked into this. You can get quite cool soundproofing panels on Amazon. Um, they don’t look awful and they do kind of work. Sometimes. Uh, yeah, right, anyway. That’s it. Thanks for the ‘Qs’, hope you liked the ‘As’ and we will see you soon. He’s wav-He’s waving. It’s. It’s audio m- For god’s sake-

13:00-13:30 *Outro Music Plays*

[forasecondtherewedwon]

I'm dying for a My Lady Jane fic of Stan Dudley doing things to try and get Frances Grey's attention. Just progressively more bold, more ridiculous, and more unhinged as he tries to get her to admit she likes him.

Yeah, this needed to happen. Good call. Thank you for the prompt!!

So, Hey, Check Me Out

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Stan x Frances Rating: T Word Count: 4837

Summary: The kingdom may be in turmoil, but so is the heart of one Stan Dudley! Kicked out of Frances Grey's bed before he's ever actually gotten into it, Stan's had enough. He embarks on a courtship designed to make the woman of his dreams truly see him for the first time, learning, along the way, that he's someone worth seeing.

When Stan Dudley was naught but a knee-high, flaxen-haired lad, his mummy and daddy would take him and his big brother Guildford to summer fairs. (This was before his happy childhood went tits-up and he cried in his nanny's arms while the wooden box he had been told contained his dearly departed and freshly embalmed mummy was shovelled over with mounds of uncaring earth. How he had wailed!) Anyway, he particularly enjoyed the puppet shows. He loved the bright fabric of the puppets' costumes, their gibbering voices, and the way they would spring up out of nowhere to make surprising announcements or play dirty tricks!

Despite his mummy's death, his brother being sent away, and what seems to him the disproportionately unfair amount of bullshit that's come his way since, Stan has never forgotten those puppets with their happy or sad painted grimaces (he could never tell). This is very fortunate, as their inspiration now stands him in good stead with the first real goal he's ever set himself: making Lady Frances Grey fall utterly in love with him.

Taking a page from the puppets' book (what a silly thought—puppets can't read!), Stan bedecks himself in colourful doublet and hose, then proceeds to pop up throughout Frances's day.

"This is a surprise," his lady love tells him when he accosts her at the juncture of two palace corridors.

"Yes! It's meant to be," he replies eagerly.

But then she turns away.

The same thing happens when he inserts himself into her routine twice more that day, and four more times the next: Stan gets the attention he desires with every fibre of his being, but only for as long as it takes for Frances to spot him, adopt an exhausted sort of expression, and turn away as though he's not even there. It's rather disheartening.

Fortunately, the sensation of being disheartened slips right off Stan Dudley like water off a swan's backside.

The thing is that he learned Frances's schedule. Now, an outsider might not expect the Queen's mother to have a schedule. After all, what is she? Not an official adviser or politician, not a servant or lady-in-waiting. In Stan's mind, Frances is capable of any of that—all of it!—but he's aware that, to others, Frances is just a particularly privileged, live-in member of the court. Alas, those people do not know dear Frances as he does. His clever vixen of a sometime-lover keeps herself as busy as a bee. (Coincidentally, tasting the output from the royal hives to ensure the highest standards of quality for the Queen's table is something Frances does at 10:00am sharp, every Wednesday.)

It was quite easy; Stan followed her around (at a respectful distance), watched her every move (respectfully), and committed it all to memory. He didn't take notes, of course. He isn't some sort of deranged stalker.

Thanks to the diligent study he's made of her movements, Stan is able to continue popping up in the places he knows she'll be, just exactly when he knows she'll be in them! The scheme is satisfying and effective... until the sweet lady begins altering the schedule to avoid him. But, ha HA! Stan bests her once more in this charming game they play; the erratic schedule is simply too annoying to Frances, who finds it impossible to get anything done, forced to structure her day around Stan's madness (madness? Perplexingly, it's the word he overhears her maidservants using) instead of completing her tasks at the most logical times. It turns out that the most defiant thing she can do is stick to the original schedule, which absolutely suits Stan down to the ground. Tremendous!

The great misfortune of his life (recently) is that putting himself in Frances's path is not and never has been enough—except that first night at Guildford and Jane's wedding; nothing makes sparks fly like a fistful of greasy meat and the chance to observe a blood relation's between-the-sheets tumble. No, now he must command her attention. He must compel her. He must engage her. Frances is so hot and cold in her carnal desire for him that Stan knows he cannot rely on something as novel as a decorative codpiece. (Though, should he maybe try... no. That time has passed.) She must at last be taught a difficult lesson: Stan Dudley is more than his penis!

—

He begins his war of rose-scented attrition in the evening. Frances can't flee from his dinner conversation without being horribly rude. Besides, the venison pie is not to be missed. Stan has to pull quite a few strings to get next to her (one is tied to the back of the chair meant for Margaret, and he earns a vicious look when her bottom strikes the flagstones), but he manages it.

"Do you like wine?" he inquires in a seductive tone.

Frances turns to him, expression already sour as though she expected to be irritated by the exchange. Wounding!

"Of course I like wine," she says. "Everyone likes wine."

"Oh, you slay me with your wit, Frances! Then I must tell you, I know of this spectacular vineyard in Italia and I've written, asking for a shipment."

Frances looks almost impressed.

"You're importing Italian wine? I shall look forward to—"

"So sorry," Stan chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Actually, no. I'm importing the grapes used to make the wine."

"The grapes? But why?"

"I'm so pleased you asked," Stan all but purrs, leaning in close to Frances for the big reveal. "It's so I can crush the grapes for your wine with my own feet! Doesn't that sound— Frances?"

Against all his expectations, and certainly contrary to good manners, she rises from her chair and, after a slight curtsy to Jane as she excuses herself, fucks right off out of the dining hall. Shocking, shocking behaviour! Stan is saying as much under his breath, having half-risen as he debates chasing after her, when vengeful Margaret kicks at his chair leg with all her might to send him sprawling.

"Yes, I suppose that's fair," he conceeds.

Margaret condescends to reach down and shake hands to prove their quarrel is done and there will be no hard feelings going forward.

—

Stan's next attempt is a do-over of something he tried before. That time, it was an unmitigated, meteoric failure which ended in Frances rejecting his proposal of marriage, and rubbing additional salt in the wound by telling him he's "just not husband material." He's since forgiven her her harsh words (she could not have meant them to be quite so brutal, his dove), and he's learned something besides. Reflecting, Stan was able to isolate a trio of criticisms from what Frances said to him: she does not appreciate grand gestures (maybe he should write back and cancel the import of foreign grapes), the nonsense about him not being husband material, and that she doubted his sincerity. She had the nerve, in fact, to tell him that he doesn't love her. Clearly, what's needed is a tasteful demonstration of his resolve, doing everything he did before almost exactly the same.

And so, he will serenade her once more.

Like any suitor who knows the odds might be against them and that it's therefore pretty critical to await the ideal circumstances, Stan takes his time picking just the right moment. He takes almost four hours. Then, bursting with urgency and armed with his lute, he slips into Frances's chambers. He's elected to pounce at night this time, and is pleased to see Katherine and Margaret are elsewhere. He shuts the door through which he entered so softly that Frances, seated doing needlepoint with her back to the doors, doesn't immediately notice his presence. Stan alerts her to it with a soft strum across his strings.

Frances jolts and twists round to fix her eyes upon him, which is when Stan throws her a reassuring wink. Her face says, Stan Dudley, why didn't you knock? His replies, Because you would have opened the door only to slam it closed again at the sight of my lute, you slippery thing!

Knowing he has not a second to lose, Stan clutches his lute like the lover he hopes Frances will again become hereafter, launching into the sweet melody he has composed for the occasion. He closes his eyes to ignore the rolling of Frances's and croons the first poignant lines to cover the sound of her objections. He hears her rise, but continues to sing. It's not until he feels her near him that he opens his eyes to deliver the rousing chorus:

"For I'm just Stan!" he belts. "Anyone else would see a man! Is it God's will for me to live and die the one unmarried Dudley? I'm just Stan! When I said, "Wife," she turned and ran. What will it take for her to see the lord behind these chords and marry me?"

"OUT!" Frances shouts above the sound of his moxie, of his pain. "I told you once already! You're only embarrassing us both!"

At that, Stan's expression softens.

"You do care," he interprets hopefully.

But then Frances is attempting to snatch the lute from his grasp, so he's forced to retreat. He contemplates persisting, picking up where he left off even with these heavy doors between them, or even returning to the spot in the courtyard from which he sang up at her window the first time. It's with a sigh that he admits to himself that, though he gave it two good attempts, he will not woo his love through song. Frances must just hate music. It's horribly sad for her, and, in lieu of his melody, she has his sympathies.

Unexpectedly, she is the reason his despair over this latest failed attempt to win her is quick to subside; the next day, before she spies him trailing behind her, lovelorn, he hears her humming the chorus.

—

With cautious optimism, Stan decides to proceed. He has a long list of tactics that he routinely reviews, adding on and scratching out with a zealous quill. The one he selects this time will require a little help to pull off.

His clever sister-in-law's court is positively crammed full of all the people who claim to know best regarding what to do about Ethians and national defence and tariffs and things of that nature, but upon his request, she invites some other types to court—artistic types. Stan narrows his eyes in competitive suspicion at the musicians before making the acquaintance of the painters. The second most important thing when commissioning artwork, Stan decides, is to peruse samples of the artist's work, but the most important thing is to find someone you think you'll be able to tolerate for the length of time it will take to sit for your portrait.

For it is a portrait Stan commissions. He selects his brush-twirling, paint-daubing fellow from the bunch and makes an appointment with him for a time when Frances is doing something particularly boring that he doesn't mind missing. In practically no time flat, the artist captures Stan in miniature. All his handsome features are accounted for. There! Would an unserious man commission a portrait of his own tiny face? Would someone who isn't "husband material" come up with such a thoughtful gift as having that miniature framed in a locket and left on the vanity of his heart's desire? No note accompanies his gift; he wants her to wonder about the gold locket's provenance, to drape it about her lovely neck as a mysterious token from an admirer.

When he comes upon her as she perambulates about the palace grounds, the gleam of gold immediately catches his eye. Stan tries to neither stare nor look too smug that Frances selected his quiet gift from amongst her many valuable baubles. He's burning with curiosity over whether she has yet unclasped the locket and studied the painted face within. It's a curiosity he doesn't hide well. By the by, he's very bad at cards.

"What are you looking at?" Frances asks, assessing him squarely.

Stan shoots his gaze skyward in a dramatic and ultimately ineffectual attempt at innocence. But his eyes were on the locket, and she knows it. With the blend of fear and horniness his precious Frances so consistently inspires in him, Stan watches her unclasp the locket and find the miniature concealed therein.

To his great delight and considerable relief, Frances laughs to discover his painted features.

"It's me!" Stan announces unnecessarily. "A fair likeness, wouldn't you say?"

"You had this made for me?"

"I hoped you might wear it close to your..." Stan chokes back the word "heart" and opts for one Frances might find more palatable, more descriptive of the narrow parameters she's placed on their relationship. "...breasts."

She glances up from the miniature, smirking.

"Alright," she says. "You may visit my chambers. But no lute."

—

Though he agreed to her terms without debate, Stan dislikes them. He feels undervalued by them, or perhaps incorrectly valued. He knows exactly what Frances has in mind: he'll come, she'll come, and then he'll be discarded once again. She is persistent, his pussycat, in treating him as a walking erection, useful for one thing only. He does so like to be useful to her in that way, but when they caressed each other's bodies that first time, he never imagined what he was experiencing was the furthest Frances ever planned for their encounters to go. It leaves him feeling slightly empty. He's always thought there would be more to love, since love it most definitely is.

Katherine catches him moping.

"You don't have to let her hurt you," she says, intuiting that her mother is the subject of his thoughts. "You have a choice. Not all of us are so lucky."

"She's still anti-William then? Goodness, that's a shame. You make an awfully cute couple."

Katherine gives him a half-smile. "Thanks, Stan."

"Even when she is cruel," Stan sulks, thoughts back on Frances, "I want her still."

"That's ridiculous." When he casts wounded eyes her way, Katherine sighs and takes pity. "You should stand up for yourself. If she still treats you like nothing after you've told her you know you're worth something, maybe you should think about ending it."

"Ending it? What, taking my own life?"

"Your infatuation with her."

"Oh." He considers this, not for the first time, but the first at someone else's prompting. It really is so much harder to end a relationship, he feels, when you get on with your girlfriend's family, and he knows, as difficult as Katherine's words are to hear, that she's trying to do him a good turn. "You know, she's invited me back to her bed."

"I neither knew nor wanted to know that."

"Makes it rather more challenging to be strong when she's on her knees—"

Katherine puts her hands up to stop him. "That's— Yes. Alright, Stan. Please, no details."

"I just wish I had some way of being strong in the moment, so that I might keep a clear head," he laments, dropping his chin into his hand.

She contemplates him a moment, then grins and says, "Come with me."

—

That night, Stan arrives at Frances's chambers empty-handed, but not unprotected. Thanks to Katherine, he has a trick up his sleeve—or rather, down his breeches. It could be, though, that he won't even need it. Perhaps, when Frances answers the door, the pair of them can sit down and have a real conversation about their feelings, then decide together if and how they want this relationship to progress in a way that does justice to each equal participant's expectations, needs, and five-year plan. Stan exhales a quick, readying breath and knocks.

The speed with which his darling Frances answers the door tattles on her longing for him. Though she may act aloof when they are in company, it serves her not! What she truly desires, what she pines for, is Stan Dudley: singer of songs, sitter for portraits, hero of the hour.

"My love!" he exclaims, closing the door swiftly behind him. "How I have—"

"Yes, Stan, nice to see you too," Frances says distractedly. Her gaze is fixed low as she throws open her dressing robe and flings it away. "Quickly now, breeches only, don't bother with the rest. I had thought you would be prompter."

In a huff worsened by the fact that Frances takes no notice of it, Stan thinks, Fine. He proceeds to do as she instructs. He sits in the chair she points to (god forbid he take her on the bed, like a real lover ought!), and unfastens his breeches like she tells him too. But he doesn't lower his drawers. No, he waits as Frances approaches, hikes the hem of her nightdress, and prepares to sit astride his lap. She stops with one knee braced on the chair.

"What's that?" she asks.

"What's it look like?"

"I can't bloody read it, Stanley. Get up."

This part might have felt a bit more rebellious, he reflects, if he hadn't sat down. She'd have seen the message clearly, straight off. Instead, he understands her difficulty; you can tell they're letters, but the words are rendered illegible by how the fabric gathers while he's seated.

Frances takes a step back and Stanley rises with dignity to display the message he decided upon—the message which his ally, Katherine, then embroidered onto the front of his underwear.

"'Mine eyes art up here,'" Frances reads out, then scoffs, shooting him a scornful glance. "Now, really, Stanley."

"Well, they are," he retorts. "And it's about time you took note of them! Or anything else up here!" He waves a hand next to his head. "My brain, for instance! I am a person, Frances, not merely a pleasure object!"

Frances sighs like she is deeply disappointed in him, and it doesn't feel good. Actually, it feels end-of-the-world levels of awful, especially when Stan is standing there in doublet and drawers, his breeches a sad, puffy pool upon the floor. He ought to have painted the message on a placard of some kind, or written it on a scroll he might have swept from inside his doublet with a flourish. With some fucking panache! In hindsight, delivering a message while half-undressed does slightly diminish its verve. But he must stand tall, breeches or no!

"What is it?" she asks tiredly, fixing the neck of her nightdress where it's slipped off her shoulder.

"I've just told you!" His shoulders sag a little. "Weren't you listening?"

"You're complaining that I don't want to fuck your brain," Frances summarizes dispassionately.

"I'm complaining that you don't LOVE ME, Frances!"

She appears confused by this.

"But I never have," she points out. She certainly is looking at his face now, assessing him as she questions, "Did you expect that to change?"

"Yes!" Stan cries out desperately. He yearns to approach her, to take her hands between his, but he must resist. "Yes, of course I did! I do!"

"Even when I told you otherwise? Really, how foolish." She chuckles.

Because he somehow believes she can't possibly make him feel worse than he now does, he battles on.

"Then consider me a fool for love, Frances, and consider that sort of fool a fool it's damn well worth being!"

"Though perhaps not worth me having," Frances replies cuttingly. "Do you forget, Stan, that I don't need you? You offer no political protection, no money—"

"I offer you more than those things! I am devoted, optimistic, kind to Katherine and Margaret—the latter perhaps on pain of death... Most importantly, I love you, Frances! I love you whether you will hear it or no."

"I don't believe in love!" Frances suddenly snaps, making Stan jerk back. "Not in a marriage, let alone whatever this is! Love is only in songs, and songs are lies composed by people with too much time on their hands."

"But I—"

"Yes, I know you did, you idiot. I was standing there when you sang it at me."

"But you enjoyed it!" Stan accuses.

"I did not!"

Bad luck her—he knows she's lying, and he says as much: "That isn't true. I heard you humming it. And if that's a lie, then how do you expect me to believe the rest of what you've said?"

"I will not coddle you," Frances states, striding up to him until they're almost nose to nose while she glares. "I have been nothing but honest—"

"I recommend that you be honest with yourself! Hmph!"

With that, Stan turns away from her. He grabs his breeches from the floor and redresses in an angry rush. Meanwhile, Frances just stands there, watching him with her arms crossed. She's so beautiful, so imposing. Gosh, he'd really like to... but no! Stan grits his teeth and heads for the door. Without looking back, he says, "The locket looks lovely, by the way. Noticed you're still wearing it."

—

It's misery without her. What's the good of living in a palace if you can't even enjoy the tapestries and the sumptuous suppers and saying, "You missed a spot," to a guard after inspecting the patchy shine on his armour? All the colour has gone out of Stan's world. It's as though the curtains are parted on the theatre, but the puppets lie limp upon the stage.

Of course, she's easy to avoid. Because he knows Frances's schedule, there's little possibility of them bumping into one another. His days are suddenly wide open. He dedicates his new free time to openly weeping in the corridors and, in a weak moment, attempting to sneak into Frances's chambers to pilfer some small item to remember her by. Maybe even the locket he gave her, because he's sure she isn't wearing it anymore. Unfortunately, this pathetic mission is foiled by her door being locked. Just like her heart! More weeping follows.

He's sure he's being pitied by those who care to notice his suffering, but he refuses to speak about it. He only wants to speak to Frances. But he doesn't. But he does.

The only time he can't avoid her is during family mealtimes. Then, he declines to take the pains he once did to sit near her. He remains next to his father, who will say a low-effort comfort phrase like "There, there," and even that will sometimes set Stan off, forcing him to excuse himself for more sobbing against the unfeeling stones which echo his grief right back to him (and sometimes to people at the opposite end of the corridor—the accoustics are terribly odd).

Stan knows there are things afoot at the palace, that larger wheels turn around him—him, the forgotten cog. And yet he seems to be essential for nothing. When he had Frances, well, he knew he was wanted, and exactly what for. How is he supposed to figure out which side of the Division Laws issue he's meant to be on, which side of the political aisle, when he can't even tell where he stands with Frances? He misses her. He can't help it. Mealtime glimpses will not sustain him.

Events conspire to keep them apart. At first apart because, for once, it is he who cannot tolerate the sight of her; she has duped his pig-headed, horse-bodied brother into going off to his death with one of the Ethians who came to Jane's lovely coronation banquet. Not much later, apart because the whole kingdom seems to be going that way, like one big breakup with the crown a-teeter at the place where the ground has split. It's chaos. Stan frequently wishes Frances's crime were a forgivable one so that they might have each other while the world goes to hell, but that's impossible. There is no clemency for sending to his death the big brother who once sat beside him before cavorting puppets. They buried the same mother.

The revelation that Guildford is alive is too short-lived. He is missing, presumed dead one moment, then there inside the safe house with Stan and their father the next, then gone again, bravely determined to rescue his wife, who's about to die—definite, not presumed. Stan feels like a fraud and a cad next to this display of loyalty. How did he ever leave Frances! How did he ever mistrust her! Actually, there are very good answeres for both of those questions, but since Stan's best plan at his own romantic reunion starts with drinking rather a lot, the circumstances of their rift grow fuzzy. He only knows he needs her. He will go to her at once!

He will go to her when the opportunity presents itself!

In the end, he goes to her plated in armour, while the bonfire burns and bird-people swoop from the sky, while (Queen?) Mary shrieks and Guildford's gallops disappear into the night as he takes Jane to safety, just as he vowed he would. In the smoke and the sound, Stan finds Frances. She appears astounded to see him. He was hoping for impressed, so it's a bit of a let-down, but at least he's had an effect. She's underestimated him for the last time!

Ideally, Stan would like to take Frances in his arms and plant such a kiss upon those lips as all who bear witness are changed, and peace spreads throughout the kingdom. Regrettably, it's bad timing. He ushers Frances, Katherine, and Margaret away instead, protecting them while they wend their way through the conflict. There isn't time to say much. He finds them horses—one for Frances, another for Katherine and Margaret to share—and gives a promise that he and his father won't be far behind. What else would they do? See the fight out to the end? Preposterous! They may be heroic now, but they aren't die-for-the-cause dunces. While sticking around long enough might get Stan extra glory, it would also doubtlessly get him executed. There may be salvagable logs from Guildford's fire, and that basket they put down to catch Jane's head? Not yet sodden with the blood of a beheading.

Stan knows the Greys will be returning to the palace. He mounts up, intending to follow them.

"The safe house, Stan," his father tells him, but Stan shakes his head. "Stanley, you cannot go back to the palace. Frances and the girls may be safe there, depending on how things shake out, but you, my boy, are the brother of an Ethian. You are no special favourite of Mary's. You have no bargaining chip! If you were caught—"

"I must go," Stan interrupts. He gives his father a heartfelt nod. "I hope to see you anon."

And Stan rides. Apparently not as well as the Greys, with whom he never catches up, but he rides with battle at his back and hope before him. He doesn't feel like a jilted lover or a second son or a superfluous courtier, just Stan. As the son rises, it feels like a damn good day to be Stan.

—

He sheds his armour—clanking, tripping—on the way from the stables to Frances's chambers. The corridors are empty of guards, all rallied to Mary's side in London. Even if they were here, Stan believes he'd barrel straight through their crossed pike shafts; he's caught up in his own perpetual motion, unable to stop or slow. There's only Frances and the distance between them. When he reaches her doors, he throws them wide instead of knocking.

She turns and sees him, she sees him and says, "You love me."

"You believe me now?"

Frances nods, seeming almost speechless until she says, "Yes."

Cocking an eyebrow, Stan swaggers towards her. "Anything else to say?"

"I don't love you," Frances begins, "but I like you, Stan. I really do." And from her bosom, she extracts the locket he gave her, letting it rest against her bodice. "See?"

It isn't the utter besottedness he's dreamed about. It isn't the legendary romance of Lancelot and Guinevere, or hell, even the surprisingly successful arranged marriage of Guildford and Jane. But Frances is finally being honest with them both, and her heart has told her that he, Stanley Dudley, is pretty darn alright. He's enough.

"I do see," he says, placing his hands on her waist. "And I'd love to see it be the only thing you're wearing."

Frances smirks in understanding. "I have missed you, you know."

He bites the air playfully in her direction, and Frances hums in anticipation, tipping her face up towards his.

"Ah!" He halts her. "I have one condition."

"Yes?"

"The bed this time, Frances. I've more than earned it."

She studies him coolly. "I believe you have."

At last, Stan kisses her, holds the tempestuous force of her in his arms. The outside world is in shambles, but his inner world is a haven. He is Frances's lover. He is a child, skipping towards the fair.

[positivelybeastly]

Goats Gremlin Gibber-Jabber part 2:

Oh we’re so back baby

Ahem ahem. First thing on the itinerary: Welcome back! Missed youuuu <3

Second thing:

HANK PUT EMMA BACK TOGETHER WHEN SHE WAS SHATTERED????

Hi in this session of my gibberish thoughts, my friend and I with our blogs made hank and Emma a thing, and there was something about them that made us so ill for them together. Granted my hank isn’t exclusive, but something with Emma clicked. And then. AND THEN

The fucking shattering of Emma, Hank discovering it after he had planned to try and cheer her up?

And then him DEDICATING himself to put her back together. And like like he got so far???

HE GOT CRAZY FAR BEFORE JEAN INTERVENED WITH THE PHEONIX.

I’ve been lost in the sauce from that moment on.

The fact that when someone said “Oh nobody liked her.” So everyone was a suspect, and he went “I liked her.” And then the fact he was convinced she couldn’t actually be dead, and then spent that time putting her back together even when the pieces were in the hundreds of THOUSANDS.

I’ve become ill from this (/pos) and I wanna hear your take on this section cause I just aaaagh.

Sincerely,

that weird fucking goat that keeps popping up and biting people.

Adding your addendum here so I can answer all in one go. :)

So, like . . . okay.

Hank and Emma's friendship is really special to me, and it all ties back to the way that Grant Morrison conceptualised Hank, when they came on to write New X-Men. It's worth noting that neither Hank, or Emma, were actually meant to be on the team when Morrison first pitched their story, they were originally going to be Colossus and Moira MacTaggert, but both had recently died. This is why Emma gets her diamond form secondary mutation - she's acting as the bruiser of the team in absence of Colossus.

So, how does Grant Morrison conceptualise Hank?

No dark secrets. Nothing to hide. The sweetest guy. The best heart.

These are the architects of modern X-Men, by the way. Morrison and Hickman. This is how they see Hank McCoy, and though they may have many flaws in their writing styles and their stories may fumble certain things, I think that they have an opinion worth noting. Their effect on modern X-Men is undeniable.

So, Emma and Hank meet, and they already have chemistry. They are both incredibly sharp, incredibly brilliant, incredibly witty, incredibly cultured individuals, and though they may (at this time) have very different moral compasses, it's very clear that there's a spark of friendship already, especially when you compare Hank's immediate sympathy to how Jean treats her literally a page later.

Something that's underrated about Morrison's Jean is that she's kind of not very nice a lot of the time, but you understand why. She's going through some shit in this series, and she has a very, very, very valid reason to hate Emma after Dark Phoenix, so her trying to reach out is what she thinks she should do, but calling her a bitch is what she wants to do, really - and Emma doesn't give a fuck. Or at the very least, she's very good at making it look like she doesn't give a fuck.

This is another aspect of why I think Hank and Emma have such good chemistry: they are both masters of control and appearance. They both spend so, so, so much time cultivating a specific image so that they can't be hurt - Hank obfuscates and hides behind big words, big concepts, big gestures, while Emma snarks and affects cool, sniping at anyone who might dare get close.

Like recognises like. I almost think it's a sort of game for them, to perform and poke at one another, knowing that they each know each other's secrets, but with an unspoken agreement that they won't go too far.

Emma jabs and pokes and prods, and Hank shuts her down in three sentences. If there were any malice or anger in this interaction, it wouldn't stop the way it does. There's no lingering animosity between them, there's no heat. It's two theatrical bitches in superhero clothes pretending that their personal lives aren't a mess by being extra bitchy at one another, and I think that they love that.

It's also worth noting that Hank, at this stage, is still an extremely moral presence, an unquestionable good guy (Threnody revisionism notwithstanding, don't at me, I've heard it before), and Emma is very much not. She's still the woman who was part of the Hellfire Club, who worked against the X-Men, who was part of Genosha, Magneto's regime - but Hank doesn't browbeat her with it. It only ever comes up when he's convinced that she's turned on them.

A moment of panic, but Emma doesn't take him to task for it - if anything, I like to think she might have actually been a bit grateful, because it made her plan seem all the more authentic, to have someone screaming that she can't do this. He then immediately apologises, and compliments her. It doesn't come up again. He judges her by her current actions, not by her past, and this is something that's very consistent with Hank, if you look at the wider tapestry of his life, because who else does he judge by his current actions and not his past?

Oh yeah. Hank forgives. Hank understands.

And I always find it interesting how he takes Scott and Emma's affair. He doesn't criticise Emma for it, but he does take Scott to task. Why? Well, it could be Morrison's take on who's responsible for the affair bleeding through, but I think it's more that Hank knows that Emma is still working on herself, still improving her behaviour, still in the process of becoming better, and he's willing to give her the space to do that, but Scott?

Scott, I think Hank believes has less of an excuse. But again, he doesn't make a thing of it until it comes to a boiling point. He warns Scott, and Scott doesn't listen. And when it's all said and done, Hank makes it clear that Scott and Emma's lives may be their own, but he has his own feelings on it, and he's capable of holding multiple emotional viewpoints at once.

Like, this is a lot of leeway and a lot of grace that Hank is affording Emma here, considering she was just as guilty of initiating the affair as Scott was, if not more so - but again. He expects better of Scott. He knows Scott knows right from wrong, and where his obligations lie, and he expects him to be faithful to his wife. Hank knows Emma is flirting, being very sexually open, but he knows that that is partly affectation, partly bait, partly exploration, and partly a fuck you aimed at Jean, who she just plain doesn't like. Harping on at her about it will not make her stop, and will only drive her not to trust Hank. And it becomes increasingly clear, as the series goes on, that Emma does trust and value Hank, quite a lot, actually.

Now, it's not like Emma needs an excuse to be cruel and to make a scene, but that's not really what this is, is it? Look at the order in which she addresses the journalist. She's offended - "I beg your pardon!" - but what at? "This man is a world-renowned scientist!"

She doesn't take offence to the idea that people hate mutants because trouble follows them where they go. She takes offence to her being insulting to Hank specifically. She elevates Hank, and degrades her opponent. This is not something Emma does often, she usually just skips to the degradation! Hank doesn't even expect it! Look at the little lines around his head in the panel with Emma blown up large in the psychic landscape! He was absolutely going to let that comment go by, and not make a thing of it, and Emma chose to make the moment about standing up for him, and he did not expect it.

But he values it, nonetheless. And he puts his paw on her, and thanks her.

Reminder, this is how she reacted to another man putting his hands on her just a few issues before.

Now, granted, we don't see where Logan's hand is, but the man's generally a gentleman, despite his reputation, so I think she just doesn't like to be touched . . . generally. But she doesn't mind it when Hank touches her, and thanks her for standing up for him. Something which she does not do for many people. Reminder, this is how she reacts to Jean having a straight up psychic fit in front of her.

Like, there's a degree to which this is bravado and humour, because Emma is tending to Jean here, but I guarantee you that this is not how she would have acted if Hank had been the one to fall in distress.

And going back to the panels where Logan is helping her up - I don't know if it's just me, but there's something very purposeful in the fact that Emma and Hank are both on the right hand side of the page, with Emma engaging her diamond form so that she doesn't have to feel, denying her own compassion, while Hank stands in shadow, looking mournful, defeated, quietly furious, unable to do anything but feel his compassion.

Perhaps that's something that Emma admires in Hank. The fact that he has no dark secrets, that he does, in at least some ways, wear his heart on his sleeve; that he has no choice but to feel. He is a good man. And it's easy to forget, in a world where cynical media and cynical people surround us, but there is something charismatic and likeable and warm about good people. Even if you might consider them foolish, people who fail to be good often envy those who try, even though they might face insurmountable odds.

Hank's refusal to accept that the world has to be a place of cruelty and disbelief and skepticism and fear has a way of rankling the cynics around him. It's one of my favourite things about him.

It has a way of paying off.

How often does Emma Frost listen to someone again . . ?

And then . . . yeah. We come to the assembly.

"Fuck you, I liked her."

She listened. She laughed. She spoke Byron back to him. Do you ever think about just how often Hank gets that? Fucking never, I bet!! It must just be so refreshing to quote, and for the other person to know.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Of course it's a romantic poet. Of course it's Byron.

And then, the assembly . . . ouuuuuuaghhh . . .

Like, people love for their characters to have feats, right? People love that Storm was the Regent of Arakko, and faced down the Horsemen. People love that Cyclops put the Void in a little box in his mind and told it no. People love that Jean chased down Enigma all the way through space and time and destroyed him. People love it when all the things that epitomise a character come together in a moment that speaks to the truth of them - their strength, their control, their refusal to give up. It's not just about power, it's about what that moment says about their personality, right?

What's Hank's?

It's putting together a 11,100,277 piece puzzle of a human body. Not with textbooks and screens around him, but by memory - and why? He says it's because he always loved jigsaw puzzles as a child, but that's not the real reason, is it? It's because it's important to him that she be complete, that she be afforded respect. It's important to him that someone showed that they cared.

It's because he thinks that there's a chance.

It's hope. It's sheer, bloody minded hope. 11 million pieces. It's insane. And yet. He did it, and it worked, and she was whole again.

Roses and wine and a good book and a baritone rendition of Gluck's Orpheus and Eurydice . . . oh, Hank. He even calls himself la bete, the Beast - a codename we know he doesn't really care for all that much, especially in light of his recent mutation - just so that he can affect playfulness and brightness and infectious good mood.

He really cared for her. And she really cared for him.

I seriously miss this dynamic. It was really very beautiful.

And thank you for the welcome back! It's good to be back!

[ao3sbatfamily]

'he is shy and likes the evening best' by destiny919

Author: @tarvek-sturmvoraus

Then he hears the second, smaller goon let out a shriek, and Jason looks up from liberating a gun from the unconscious big one to see the guy gaping at his hand, which has been firmly attached to the table where he's sitting by a knife buried in the back of it, and Tim, looking totally casual and also still holding another knife. 

Jason can't stop the instant pride that swells up, and he gives the kid a grin he'd worry is too sharp if the kid's returning expression didn't put the knife in his hand to shame. 

Should he be concerned about the knife? Probably. Is he? No. Tim's grip looks perfect and surprisingly sure for such a tiny kid. 

They leave the other knife behind in the gibbering goon's hand. He must be new to Gotham. 

"Where did you get those, kiddo?" Jason murmurs out in the hall. 

"Took em off one of the first group," Tim whispers, and wow Jason didn't even see him do that. He's gonna have to get more vigilant around the kid. Like, way more.

[st4rshiptr00per]

i havent told this to literally anyone because who would i tell but im like deranged about provost tepesh i need to just make an oc at this point. like we all know i have a major weakness for characters who are egotistical bitches with heart of gold, somewhere, deep down, so taking one of those and then being like 'heres an alternate version of them thats got the exact same personality but is also a Sad Vampire' makes me fucking CRAZYYYYYY. and that character only exists for HALF OF ONE STORY? AND IS NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN? for the love of god help me.

[cuprohastes]

Visit strange new worlds... And ask, "What would a human do?"

Really, it was hard not to wail like a child who'd lost his tnkpt, thought Viska. It was how he felt right now and he suspected the big toothy thing outside wouldn't care much.

The only thing that was stopping him was that he was fairly sure it didn't know exactly where he was, and he didn't want to help out.

It'd been all fun at the start. He, Dr. Kraant, Ipsnig and the Human assigned to the survey to lift stuff and do Human things had gone out. The Human had helped him paint his scales a few days before and he was feeling very pretty and competent, and the Human had brought some of their human music that secretly Viska thought was pretty good, even if it needed to be a little higher pitched.

But then the big thing had attacked. Viska mentally named it Ergrig. It looked like an Ergrig. Something about the way it was drooling.

The human had grabbed Dr. Kraant, who had this theory that all predators had motion based vision, and flung him into the Sintral expedition car. Ipsnig had just leapt out the way and then there was dust and rocks spraying everywhere and the Ergrig was between him and the Sintral.

He'd dropped on all fours, and run, skidding around the vegetation, mud and rocks and finally he'd wedged himself in a small muddy gap, his gorgeous scale paints splattered and scratched, and of course the snazzing gwapruff thing had followed him.

And now he was stuck, and probably going to be eaten, and die. In that order.

He wished he was a Human. They always seemed to know how to deal with things.

He's asked their Human how they dealt with all the horrible creatures which all seemed to somehow have classified the human as not-food.

"I ask myself: What Saint Irwin would do?" They'd said, like it was funny. 

Viska wondered if this Saint Irwin would help out a poor muddy Tsin, or if you had to be Human to ask.

What he needed was a Saint Human to help Tsin out.

Or... maybe he should just ask: What would Human

And so, a few minutes later, the Ergrig, who'd been sure there was some little scaled food thing around here was very startled when a small male Tsin leapt up in front of it, scales on end like an angry pine cone, four arms splayed out, and gibbering in a manner that the Ergrig had never heard before.

It backed up, scrabbling, and the spiny thing lurched forward.

Like many predators, the Ergrig couldn't chance an injury. One of the big herbivores might have just kicked or gored Viska, but the Ergrig bolted.

"I can't believe that worked!" Said Viska.

"Neither can I." Said the human stepping out of liminal space between two boulders with a whump-gun. "I was trying to find you - Good thinking with the mud by the way - and I was prepared to give that big fella an arse full, with Betty here, but looks like you had it in hand!"

Vriska couldn't figure out how to respond for a moment - a little starstruck at getting praise from a Human. 

"Oh well. I just thought... what would a Human do." He said as they headed back to the Sintral expedition vehicle.

"Well it worked this time!" Said the Human, "But to be honest, I think most people - or animals - would back off if you leap out and screamed the lyrics to Phantom of the Opera at them..."

[flowerandblood]

The White Flame (Part 1)

[modern! rockstar • Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader]

[warnings: sexual tension, drugs, angst, swearing, fluff]

[description: Aemond is the bassist of the band whose leader and vocalist is his brother. The whole band decides to use the marketing and design help of their guitarist's friend. The story is an interweaving of domination, desire and slowly burning feeling.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"The White Flame" - the name of their band - was Aegon's idea. Ever since he started taking singing lessons he always knew he wanted to start a band. Although Aemond didn't believe in this venture, he gave in to him when he said one day that he had found a guitarist and a drummer. Their house was big, so the first rehearsals took place in their garage.

Aemond loved the bass guitar, its low sound, the way it was always in the back carrying the whole song on its weight, giving it that nice quivering feeling in your chest when it played on stage. Cregan as a drummer was very lively and energetic, he could improvise very well and bring a lot to the whole composition, adding to its expression.

Mathylda, whom they simply called "Momo", was a great guitarist and had a very interesting way of applying makeup. Often blue butterflies were pinned into her short black hair, her make-up was wide and bright, passing through all the colors of blue. She dressed all in black, and despite the glasses that made her look like a nerd, she had a rock star vibe about her.

They managed to get an agent who arranged their first concerts in small clubs. Slowly, they began to receive more and more offers, and after two years they played almost every weekend. Mathylda said that they needed someone to care for their marketing, someone who would run their social media, design logos and gadgets, and promote their style.

"My friend is great at these kind ot things, I can ask her if she would like to help us." She said one day, referring to the girl who would come to their concerts sometimes and then have drinks with Momo at the bar.

She didn't talk to them much, seeing that the boys often disappeared with the girls in some corners, snorted something or just drank. Sometimes, however, she and Mathylda would come over to exchange a few words. One day she was talking to Aegon while eating marshmallows shaped like litte rabbits heads.

"Actually, you yourself look like a bunny." He once said drunk. She laughed and asked if he thought she had rabbit teeth. He said he meant her bun.

Indeed, she often combed her long hair so that part of her front hair was wrapped at the back of her head in a small bun, fastened with a colored terry, which she could tie on demand without even thinking about it. Aemond wondered how she did it that she didn't even look at herself in the mirror, and that the bun always looked perfect.

From then on, Aegon always called her "Bunny", and it stayed that way. Sometimes they used an abbreviation and just called her "Bun." Compared to them, she was very colorful, joyful and, above all, sober.

She had had drinks with Mathylda of course, but Aemond had never seen her drunk enough to gibber or cajole. She talked a lot and was always discussing something with Cregan or Aegon.

She often wore sweatshirts or sweaters in bright, pastel colors, sometimes with a character from a fairy tale. For example, she had a "Adventures of the Gummi Bears" hoodie that Aegon loved. For some reason he called her "Gummi Bunny" back then, to the dismay of everyone, including her.

Although her choice of clothing might seem childish, she always paired it with high-waisted trousers or mid-thigh skirts with high wool socks, which emphasized her slim figure and nice proportions. Aemond found himself staring at her legs a lot when she was wearing a short skirt.

When Momo suggested that Bunny handle their marketing, everyone was comfortable with the idea. Sometimes she would show them her designs and illustrations, and they were all impressed.

Aemond never commented on what she was doing, but he thought she did have talent. Once everything was settled, Bunny came over to them after one of the rehearsals with her laptop and sketchbook. She wanted to show them some designs for their new logo.

“I decided that a classic typographic solution would be the best. Your music refers to classic rock, so I went the way of Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin or AC/DC.” She said calmly, unfolding the pages. Aemond was surprised that she had done her homework. Her designs referenced the typography of the 60's and 70's, making the inscription "The White Flame" look retro.

Everyone loved the direction she was going. After a lively discussion, they came to the conclusion that the most interesting design was the one in which the L was a flame, with the rest of the thick, serifed letters.

Bunny suggested that if she could, she would stay with them while they practiced and start making a logo on the laptop so she could consult with them on changes. Nobody had any objections to that.

After a few weeks, the logo was ready. Bunny one day brought everyone stickers with it on it, saying it was a cool and inexpensive gadget and that they could use some t-shirts and bags too. She also took care of their social media. One day she brought her little purple Instax and said she wanted to take some cool retro pictures of them.

She took one of the photos of Aemond from hiding, standing to the side. Aemond stood against a completely black background, his eyes narrowed in concentration, a cigarette in his mouth. His sleeve with a large tattoo peeked out from under his black T-shirt, his white hair, bright face and black&white guitar contrasted with the whole setting.

Bunny approached him with excitement, saying that it was one of the best pictures and that it turned out great. As she stood next to him, he smelled her scent, some pleasant floral perfume. He just grunted, exhaling smoke through his nose, tilting his head to the side so as not to blow on her.

After concerts, there were always at least a few girls waiting for autographs at their door. Usually half of them wanted to fuck. Aegon took advantage of this every time and went to the toilet with them. Cregan didn't, at least not right away, but sometimes he gave his phone number to girls he liked.

Aemond only fucked the most desperate ones. It excited him to think that he could give them everything they wanted, give them hope and leave them with nothing. He wondered, what they expected?

However, he felt uneasy when, after one such action, he left the men's room with one of the girls, who was quickly adjusting her skirt, and Bunny was waiting on the other side, apparently waiting for the women's room.

The look she gave him was not one of reproach or disgust. She looked like he was physically hurting her. She lowered her gaze as he turned and walked away, deciding that he didn't have to explain anything to her.

During one of the rehearsals, she sat on their couch. She'd been working on her laptop for a few hours now and took off her shoes, putting her hunched legs together.

Aemond involuntarily, sitting in the armchair next to her, tuning his guitar, looked at her legs dressed in high, cream socks to the middle of the thighs. She was wearing a big, long, light-colored, long-sleeved Gryffindor sweatshirt and shorts. That's why she looked like she was wearing nothing underneath.

Aemond felt a tightness in his pants at the thought of being between those thighs. He wondered if she would moan sweetly under him as he fucked her, if she would be wet and tight for him. He looked away, clenching his jaw, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

He looked up at her in surprise when he saw her put the laptop aside, walked over to him and leaned her hip against his armchair, showing him one of the sketches on a piece of paper she must have done earlier.

“Aegon once proposed to decorate your guitars. I already have a project for Momo, but I decided to do something different for you.” She said calmly, a note of satisfaction and pride in her voice. Aemond looked at her drawing. It accurately reproduced his bass guitar.

In her illustration, a black and white dragon with claws, drawn in a sharp, simplistic style, was eating its own tail as it curled around the shape of the instrument. Aemond took the cigarette from his mouth and flicked the smoke onto the ashtray, that was on the small table beside him.

"I like it." He spoke briefly and to the point.

A few days later, he, Momo and Bunny drove their guitars to the printing house. At first, Momo and Bunny were going to go there alone and get his guitar too, but he told them that if he saw even a scratch on it, he would kill them. Frightened that something might escape their attention, they simply told him to come with them.

They went in and explained that they had come to print the guitars with the designs Bunny had sent them earlier. Bunny frowned as they showed her the stickers that would then be welded into the fabric and secured.

"Why is the print resolution so poor?" She asked, looking at the man in surprise. The man shrugged.

"Perhaps you sent such a project." He said dismissively. Bunny frowned.

"I have sent you a high resolution file." She said coldly. The man sighed and checked everything on the computer again. He pursed his lips as he realized she was right. She raised her eyebrows, obviously expecting an apology.

"After all, since you play on stage, you won't be able to see pixels from a distance anyway." He said calmly. Bunny opened her mouth, nervous, but before she could say anything, Aemond walked over to her, took the sheet of paper with the sticker, and tore it up in front of them. He tossed it on his desk, staring at him with a stony face.

"Nobody's gonna put this pixelated shit on my guitar. Print it again because you're getting on my nerves already, mate." He said low, his voice making the man look at him with wide eyes. He clenched his jaw and wordlessly turned the machine back on. He must have changed something, because this time the printouts looked perfect.

Aemond watched carefully as he pasted the design onto his guitar. Bunny and Momo looked at them with amusement as they saw the man's hands shaking. When it was over, they left the printing house, quite satisfied with the end result.

"I'll drive you to your home." He said calmly, and the girls looked at each other, surprised, apparently not expecting such a kind heart from him. They both sat in the back, talking about nutrition, how frustrated the guy was and his nonsensical remarks.

First on the way was Momo's house. As she said goodbye and closed the door behind her, Aemond drove on. The silence fell between them. He looked in his mirror and saw in the reflection that their eyes met. They turned immediately.

Aemond considered stopping somewhere in some small, empty street for a while to just fuck her on his back seat. He thought after a moment that he would probably just scare her. Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I have something for you." She said shyly, smiling warmly. He looked from the road to her face in the mirror, surprised. "Aegon told me you recently had a birthday. But I didn't have the courage to give it to you in front of everyone." She said, looking down at her lap.

Aemond swallowed softly, completely bewildered. He didn't like celebrating birthdays, and he didn't like missed gifts. He stared straight ahead, saying nothing.

He glanced in the mirror again, hearing her rummage through her white suede backpack. He parked in front of her house when he heard her lean over him, her elbows between the two front seats, her head close to his face.

She held an envelope in her hand, it was not sealed. Aemond reached inside, without even asking her if he could see what was inside, and pulled out a few sheets. After a while he realized they were tattoo designs.

“Aegon told me you want to make a new one, but you need a good design. That you wish it had a dagger on it that belonged to your great-great-grandfather. He took a picture of him for me and I came up with several versions. I tought you might like one of them." She said softly with a smile, her gaze warm and sincere.

He looked at her, their faces millimeters apart. He wanted to fuck her, kiss her long neck, listen to her soft moans. He wondered if he saw it in his gaze, because she shivered and swallowed softly, her lips parting slightly.

He looked at her lips, then back at her eyes. They leaned against each other's foreheads, and she sighed softly, as if in relief. She smiled at him. He thought she was going to kiss him, but she pulled away, zipped up her backpack, and left the car without a word, her legs trembling slightly.

He watched her as she walked into her house and didn't even look back at him. He felt his entire jaw clench with desire. He squeezed his eye shut, swallowed hard, and started the engine, driving out of her driveway with a squeal of tires.

_____

Let me know what do you think and if you want a series form that! If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

[dyrewrites]

Tests like that last reblog tell me that I know a lot of words...but I do not use a lot of words.

If it sounds nice, and creates a lovely rhythm, I will use it. I don't care how big or small or new or old it happens to be. I've used words no one uses anymore, taken ones from other languages outside my own, and even made up words by smashing others together just for something that sounded nice to speak aloud.

And yet so many of you love to make me a gibbering mess by telling me how lovely my use of words in my writing is...

Word knowledge doesn't equal writing skill.

However, words are fun to play with and the more you know the more you have to compose your pretty stories with, so if you see a neat looking word you don't know...go find out what it means. Might be fun. Maybe you could use it.

[gffa]

This hit me like a ton of bricks.  There’s another scene in this comic that really put it into perspective for me, it’s a Vader point of view scene, flashbacks of scenes from The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones where he was so afraid to lose his mother and then his wife that it was drawing a straight line to his fall to the dark side, which perfectly illustrated George Lucas’ commentary on Anakin’s story and why he fell. Then I get to this page. Another Vader point of view, the red boxes on black backgrounds that are inside his head.  “My son. I sense your anguish.  You still cannot bear the thought of losing your friends.  Good.  Now you’re ready... to learn what real fear is.” OHHHHHH THAT SHIT HIT LIKE A BRICK TO THE FACE. Anakin Skywalker, the core theme of his fall to the dark side, was his fear of losing his mother, losing his wife, losing his Master, losing his apprentice, losing his friends--he knows what that kind of gibbering fear is like and how deep it can cut. No one knows better than Darth Vader how powerful a weapon he’s just been handed.  He knows it because it’s the weapon that was turned on him to draw him to the dark side.  Luke’s fears for Han and Leia--and Vader will use this exact same trick again in Return of the Jedi and it will scrape away at Luke’s resolve, when Vader threatens Leia, that’s when Luke bursts into angry attacks, Vader senses his fear and anger then too--Vader is going to do to Luke what Palpatine did to him. This is why Obi-Wan and Yoda were wary on Dagobah--I recently rewatched that scene and their big point is that Luke’s not ready emotionally, that every step of the way he’s demonstrated he falls prey to his fears and defeatism, like in the cave when faced with the fearful vision of Vader, like when trying to lift the X-Wing out of the swamp.  This is why Obi-Wan says, “Luke, I don't want to lose you to the Emperor the way I lost Vader.” Because that unmastered fear for your loved ones is the tool that took down Anakin and now he’s going to use that same tool on Luke--and that’s the theme of Star Wars, that you have to master your fear, that’s Luke Skywalker’s journey, that he wasn’t born perfectly in control of himself, that even good people can fall prey to fear. There was a real chance it could happen, because Vader was an expert in knowing how to wield fear, no one knew better than him how deep that fear could cut.

[seat-safety-switch]

I didn’t think my enemies could get to me here. Here, on my doorstep. Where I live. In the neighbourhood where ordinary people raise their families, oblivious to the secret war I wage every day against the forces of darkness. Somehow, in some way, this neighbourhood has produced not one, not two, not three, but four Suzuki Kizashis.

In case you’re unfamiliar, the Kizashi is a pretty okay little car. Suzuki had a short run of bringing a lot of “pretty okay little cars” to our shores, before the economic collapse made them give up on trying to be the small fish in a big pond. Which is a pity. All this is to say that they didn’t sell very many Kizashis, which are a handsome if slightly bulbous all-wheel-drive family sedan with a bad-ass name. It’s named after a fucking sword. Like, come on, you don’t see Ford Cinquedeas kicking around out there.

Anyway, like I said, I don’t see many of them. So I notice them when I do see them. And, for years, I thought there was only one in my neighbourhood, a kind of dilapidated silver-on-silver ex-lease model that lives near the gas station. The owner’s a little quirky, I told myself, and probably got a great deal on this car that they love so much. Then, I had to walk a different route home from the corner store one day due to sewer construction. I saw a silver Kizashi, in a different driveway. Friends, this was a different Kizashi.

Over the following weeks, I roamed the neighbourhood more, my mind unsettled. Statistically, there should be no way that a car which sold in the low thousands should be represented in my neighbourhood more than twice. And yet it was. A red one peeked out at me from an alley on a side street. I didn’t even know they made a red one. I began to gibber uncontrollably, and fled into the bike path, where I knew that no Kizashi could bother me. I was mere feet away from my home, out of breath, near tears, when I saw it. A white Kizashi.

Somehow, I managed to make it home. I ran inside, bolted the doors, turned the lights off, and wept profusely. My knowledge of the world’s oddball cars had been all for naught. There were so many of these, and so close – surely, they were a better shitbox deal than I had thought. That���s when I heard a strange revving. No. It couldn’t be.

With shaking hands, I pulled aside the staple-gunned moving blankets I had been using as curtains. There, on the street, a Suzuki Equator slowly did laps of my block. The operator stared into my home every time he passed, seeing but not seeing me, looking through me as if I had never existed.

I reached into my pocket. Something felt too big, out of sorts with the rest of my slim, metal Mopar dealer keys. I pulled the strange object out. A silver stylized “S.” The keys, I realized, to an SX-4.