#don't worry we have like six different people working on it that's why we can get the manhours we need

[mcytblrsexymen]

seeing our imitators, i feel as though we should add a warning upon our door: this is not a place of honor. this is a place of probably, conservatively, 100 manpower-hours of data entry. be wary, those who attempt to tread our path. if you have friends as wildly enthusiastic about spreadsheets as us go for it but be warned. see our suffering and be warned.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

good boy

words: 1.5k

warnings: established relationship, marriage, protective!rafe, (guard??) dog, fluffy

“rafe, it's literally two weeks. ill be fine!” you say, folding his clothes, having dumped out his suitcase onto the bed to reorganize it when you saw how he packed it, just chucking things in.

“two weeks where im a hours away from you by plane.” rafe sighs, watching you carefully repack his suitcase as he pouts on the bed, not wanting to leave you.

“you know, cameron, i lived a whole 20 years before meeting you.” you point out, knowing while rafes concern comes from his love for you, it will completely overwhelm what is supposed to be an enjoyable family vacation and leave him miserable the whole time.

“i don't see why you can't just come with me.” rafe groans, flopping back against the bed. you smile and round the bed to where his head is resting against the pillows. you press a smooch to his forehead, rubbing your hand over his head, petting at his soft hair.

“baby, it's just for your family. you know that.” it's not like you don't want to accompany rafe to a tropical paradise, but you would feel way too awkward intruding.

“what if something happens to you? and im not here to protect you? id be the worst fiancee ever.” rafe grabs your head from rubbing his head, holding up the ring on your finger for him to admire.

“nothing will happen. nothing ever happens here.” you laugh. you're not sure what crime is like on the other side of the island, but your neighborhood is incredibly safe.

“im still worried.” rafe sighs. “you in that big house all alone.”

“im gonna spend 99% of the time wedding planning.” you hum, thinking about the tabs pulled open on your laptop of different venues, dresses, and color palettes.

that finally gets rafe to crack a smile. “can't wait to marry you.” rafe says earnestly. he only proposed a month ago, some people would say that you were too young to get married, but rafe knew when you came into his life and turned everything around for him that he had to put a ring on your finger.

“i can't wait either.” you bend down to press a kiss to rafes lips. “but seriously we need to talk about your packing before we tie the knot, why do you only have one pair of shorts packed for an island?”

-- two years later --

“remember those two weeks you left before we were engaged? it's not really much longer. you should go, baby. it's a good opportunity.” you are sat on rafes lap, back pressed against his chest as he scrolls through his email.

“it's just work, and it's a whole lot longer than two weeks. i don't want to leave you here alone for over a month.” rafe closes out of the email, making you sigh.

“i was fine for those two weeks, ill be fine now. promise. i think you should go! it's a big conference.” you turn sideways on his lap so you can look rafe in the eye. “besides, it's still six months away. plenty of time to prepare.”

“prepare?” rafe raises his eyebrows. “so you'd be good with security cams around the whole house and personal security?”

“cameras on the outside and hell no. you don't want some random guys watching after me do you?”

you can see the gears turning in rafes head as he frowns. “yeah, you're right. no men.”

“so you'll go?” you smile. rafe closes his eyes for a brief moment before nodding.

“yay!” you squeal. you're not excited to be left alone, and you love being around your husband more than anything, but the work trip is a big deal, and you know he'll be kicking himself if he misses out on such a good opportunity.

--

“rafey?” you call, eyes sweeping across the living room as you enter your shared home, a head full of fresh highlights.

“hubby?” you call out, continuing deeper into the house until you see movement through the glass door leading towards the backyard, but it's not the typical roll of the ocean against the shore.

“rafe?” you question as you open the door. you expected to find him in his office, where he was before you left for the beauty salon.

rafe smiles, waiting for your eyes to look down, and when you finally see what is sitting at rafes feet, you let out a gasp.

“oh my gosh!” you squeal. 

“wifey, meet max. our new australian shepherd.” rafe gives a command with his hand, that has max running towards you.

you sink to your knees as the young dog excitedly greets you, licking at your hands as you pet him.

“hi maxey.” you coo at the dog, you're guessing around two years old, with max being full size but still having some young features.

“rafe, you didn't tell me you were getting us a dog!” you stand up, max following close behind as you rush to give your husband a hug.

“i have a confession.” rafe says, his hands looped around your waist. you frown, worried that max was just a foster and you'd have to give him back, or that something went wrong with the adoption. you often talked about getting pets before getting married, but wanted to wait a little bit, and then time just slipped away and before you knew it, you were over a year into your marriage. 

“what?” you whine out.

“ive been working with a trainer behind your back. i wanted to make sure max was ready before we chose him for sure. he knows commands, me, your scent, our house. everything. he knows his primary responsibility is to protect you and our property.”

“oh my gosh!” you slap rafe in the chest, surprised that he was able to keep such a secret from you. “how could you do all that without telling me?” you laugh, not angry, but surprised that he was able to orchestrate everything.

you don't wait for rafe to explain how he was able to find so much time, stepping out of his hold to kneel down and continue petting max.

“we have some more training sessions so he can learn with you as well.” rafe further explains, also leaning down to pet max behind the ears as he pants excitedly at his new owners.

--

“what is it maxy?” you ask as he lifts his head up, looking around the living room. “you miss your daddy?”

you sigh as max lets out a sad sounding huff, petting your hand over his head, scratching at his neck which you know is his favorite. rafe has been gone on his business trip for a month now, with only a week and a half left until he returns home.

max suddenly jumps off the couch, eyes on the backyard. he lets out a bark, claws clicking on the hardwood floor as he moves to the glass door. he lets out another bark, making you stand.

“what is it boy?” you ask, looking out the window.

max lets out another bark, this one the familiar territorial bark that he’s practiced in his training with you and rafe. you know the only reason that rafe feels safe enough leaving you home is that max is a great guard dog.

you get closer to the window, squinting your eyes to try and see in the darkness when you sudden jump back with a scream as a squirrel runs across your patio, causing max to bark and run along the glass door until it scatters into the yard.

“holy shit, maxy, you scared the shit out of me.” you press your hand to your chest before kneeling down, scratching behind his ears. “it was just a squirrel.” you reassure him with a pat.

your heart rate is just starting to calm down from the fright when you hear the front door open. max instantly takes off with you following after him, letting out a sigh of relief when you see rafe standing in the foyer.

“baby.” he sighs happily, setting his suitcase down as you run into his arms, pressing your lips together. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you too, what are you doing home though?” you ask, giving him another kiss before he can answer.

“they didn’t need me for the rest of the week, decided to get home to my lady.” max barks, making rafe lean down to pet him, still holding you up. “and my good boy too, of course.”

“so happy to have you home.” you nuzzle your nose into rafes neck, inhaling the familiar scent that you missed so much. 

“happy to be back with you, wifey.” rafe says, carrying you further into the house.

“oh, and you will be very happy to know maxy did a great job protecting me while you were gone.” you tell rafe. it mostly involved max barking in warning at any delivery guy or car turning around in your driveway, but his presence did help making you feel safer and less loney.

“hopefully not too good.” rafe huffs as he looks at your pet. “can’t have him replacing me now.”

you giggle, surprised rafe can manage to be jealous of your dog. “never.” you swear, pressing another kiss to his lips.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk

[yan-randomfandom]

Yandere!Stanford Pines & Borrower!GN!Reader

[PLATONIC] Borrowers are really tiny humans who "borrow" items and food! requested,,, am so sorry if this isn't what u expected 😔

Ford's toothbrush is missing.

In fact, many of his things have gone missing for the past few days. Did Bill possess his body again and decide to prank him?

His eyes catch color behind the toilet. Ah, there's his toothbrush. It must have fallen off.

When he picked it up, it was much heavier than usual. Of course, anything else could've been a reasonable explanation and not some tiny human holding onto the toothbrush for their dear life.

Ford doesn't let you escape, immediately bringing you to his office. You spit out profanities on the way, banging your fists on his fingers.

"Fascinating," he mutters, moving your limbs around. "You're just a tiny human."

"They call us borrowers," you say as you keep avoiding his hands. You notice something. "You have six fingers. Did giants always have that? Never noticed."

He suddenly feels smaller than you. "Not usually."

Ford learned that you actually lived under his floorboards. He had to compromise with you so that you would stop stealing his stuff.

"Roommates?" you tilt your head. "As long as you don't kill me, I guess. And I said I was going to return it!"

He doesn't believe you. He hums, scratching his chin. "Your species must have been hit by the light of height-altering crystals. I'm guessing the way your people survive is by stealing from others."

"Borrowing."

He gave you all sorts of delicious food. Well, they're mostly store-bought, but it's better than anything you've gotten before.

Not to mention his stuff. He had way more than what you were expecting. All the more to decorate your house and expand your collections! He's generous; you'll give him that...

There's something you can't shake off though. Ford's a weirdo if anything.

Bill Cipher knows about you. But he doesn't really care because you're just like any other creature that Ford has gotten. He'll only intervene if you manage to distract Ford from the portal.

So it's a good thing you're doing the opposite. You're actually helping in your own little ways, such as bringing him pen and paper.

Sitting on Ford's shoulder, you keep yapping about rats eating your house. He doesn't mind the noise, albeit he's not really listening, but it's so much better than silence.

He has fallen asleep. You grab the blanket from a nearby table and drape it over his body the best you can. This man does more work than your entire lifespan; it's so concerning.

"You don't want to try becoming a full-sized human? Why not?" Ford asks sincerely, almost concerned. You becoming not tiny is what you were supposed to be.

"Me? Turning into your size?" you make a disturbed face, "no thanks. I feel like my life would be more complicated. You're taking care of me, and that's enough."

He smiles. "Interesting."

Once again, you find him asleep on the desk. You search for a good spot next to his arm and curl up to his warmth, closing your eyes and drifting to sleep.

...You wake up to relentless movement. Looking up, you meet Ford's crazed, hectic eyes.

"You," he exhales, his voice sounding different. "Not here to steal my eyes, are you?"

Without warning, he grabs your body. You tremble. "Bill didn't tell you to, right? You're the perfect size to scoop out someone's eye..."

"Ford—" A bright flashlight shines on your eyes.

He forces one eye open. A few seconds pass. "You're, ah, clear. I'm so sorry."

The human finally lets you go. "What the hell was that?! Are you okay??"

"There's something dangerous here," he winces as he goes around the room, locking all possible entrances. "We have to stop everything we've ever worked for! What I worked for!"

He walks over to you, a smile curling on his lips. "Don't worry. I'll protect you, little borrower. Won't let him lay a single finger on you."

Before you could even blink, you're pushed inside something. You quickly run to the front, holding the bars that kept you away from escaping. "Wait, let me go! You're being crazy!"

"I know this seems bad, but it's only temporary," he replies, locking your cage. "Not until I finish the protection around the house. I'll have to call Stan..."

yes he has cages.... he caged shmebulock 😭

gotta thank @shabbyshoebox for this treasure (tell me if u wanna be untagged!)

[evolutionsvoid]

Anything can be an ecosystem, it is just a matter of nutrients and consistency. So often we think that habitats are things that only exist outside our walls, where civilization hasn't fully taken hold. Some folk think we sapient species live completely separate from the natural world, that our lands are omitted from everything else. To them, there is a clear line between what is "nature" and what is "civilization" and once you cross those boundaries, the other ceases to be. But in truth, it is all connected, and our homes are a part of the system like everything else. A city may seem vastly different from any other habitat on the planet, but it is still an ecosystem nonetheless. We are but the fauna running about within, and one of the species that thrives in it. And to the shock of some, there are other creatures that do incredibly well in these man-made habitats, finding living within them just as comfortable as we do.

Sewers and dumps don't seem like much but areas of pure filth, but there is still nutrients to be found. Just because we don't eat the stuff doesn't mean it is useless. Look at the dung beetle, an insect that lives off of fecal matter. While a sewer would be a vile land for us, it would be a paradise to such a coprophage. Things in the wild feed off of waste, it is a natural thing. So when we make areas that are nothing but filth, then some species flock to it, seeing an endless buffet. The Otyugh is one such creature.

When one first sees an Otyugh (probably in illustration over real life), it may be hard to wrap your head around what it actually is. The anatomy seems all over, with arms, legs and heads starting to blur together. Some would claim they are a three-legged species with two tendril arms and a large eye stalk, which is an understandable mistake. The Otyugh is hard to decipher as it moves and feeds, and its anatomy changes depending on the situation. In truth, it is actually a large echinoderm, one that possesses six limbs. Two of these arms are sensory, while the other four are designed for feeding, manipulation and moving. All six have sensory organs for smelling and tasting the world around them, but only two have prominent eyes. These organs are much stronger on these limbs, versus the crude eyes on the others that can only tell between light and dark. All arms work together to help the creature move and feed, though hunting for food isn't exactly a challenge for an Otyugh.

As I made clear, this species is one that feeds entirely on waste, finding poop and filth quite delicious. It isn't just feces, it is anything rotting, foul and discarded that they eat. Their central mouth is a complex arrangement of grinding plates, shredding teeth and potent acid, all designed to consume absolutely everything that gets shoveled in. They are the cleanup crew of the world, like all scavengers, and will erase any detritus or corpse that has been left behind. They are practically immune to poison and disease, devouring plague ridden carcasses without worry. They are essential creatures to areas rife with rot, which is why they have found their way to humanity's sewers.

Otyugh are a species that originally relied on dragons and other megafauna to survive. Their vast amounts of waste gave the Otyugh sustenance, and thus they were commonly found near dragon lairs. Small creatures don't offer enough for such large beasts, but that changed when some species started stockpiling their filth. When the Otyugh caught wind of humans creating places specifically for waste and trash, they were quick to move in. Here was another consistent source of food, in a place that seemed tailor made to them. At first, people were repulsed, but then they realized if they didn't want the Otyugh there, then they would have to go down there and drive them out themselves. Suddenly, no one was complaining anymore.

While most folk don't bother with these creatures, times do come where people do confront them. I know in some big fancy cities, they don't like the image of a giant poop eating seastar dwelling below, so they got the bright idea of getting rid of them. In other cases, their population gets out of control and they start looking for extra sustenance in face of all this competition. Whichever the reason, trying to drive one out or fight it will quickly make you regret your life choices. Otyugh may be sewage suckers, but they can be extremely dangerous. Their tendrils are dexterous and thorny, capable of whipping them with deadly force. Their limbs are many, allowing them to attack from many angles and continue the battle should they lose one or two. The maw in the center of it all is an "everything-grinder," which can reduce an armored warrior to juice if they get too close. On top of all that is the fact that they are dripping with filth and vileness, which can lead to nasty infections or sickness should one be exposed. Sometimes slayers will succeed in killing an Otyugh, only to succumb to a horrible rotting disease weeks later from a mere scratch they had received. In most cases, fighting them is straight up not worth it. It should only be a last resort, for when the Otyugh start spilling out from their sewer homes and begin eating "fresher" things.

To go back to that earlier mistaken description, of a beast with "three legs, two arms and one eye stalk," there is a reason that was a common belief. When Otyugh are feeding, they are laying down in the ocean of filth, positioned like any seastar you would see on the coast. Mouth down, arms out, just enjoying life. When buried in this waste, you can't really see them. Their bodies are colored and designed to fit in with piles of manure and disgust around them (as if anything would want to eat them), and thus folk miss them most of the time. However, when threatened, the Otyugh will rear up to look much larger and expose its pulverizing maw. This is done by using three tendrils for support, like legs. Two feeding limbs are flailed about in a threatening manner, while a sensory tentacle is held high for it to see its attacker. Now that it has made itself obvious and known, people start paying attention. This is why that description became commonplace, as these postures were how folk even got to see them most of the time!

A funny thing to note is that humans are probably way more familiar with the Otyugh than dryads. Honestly, it was a while before I even got to see one myself! This is because dryads collect and compost their waste at home, making sewer systems rare in our towns and cities. Due to large efforts to recycle and reuse, we don't have large areas of the stuff for an Otyugh to settle in. This isn't meant to be a dig at humanity, more just a neat observation. I will say that some dryads made a business of utilizing an Otyugh to rapidly breakdown substances and objects a normal household couldn't properly handle. It is like a rapid transformation of waste into fertilizer, for those who don't want to wait. Bring your junk to these places, let the Otyugh eat it and get its fertile expulsions in return. An odd business, but it seems to be working pretty well! Of course, there are also rumors that some of these establishments earn the real coin from folks who want certain "somethings" to "disappear..."

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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

"Otyugh"

While this entry is written by Chlora, it is one that I would say is not canon. Mainly because I know the DnD company is incredibly litigious and not fans of their stuff being used anywhere else. I mainly drew this thing up because I thought it would be fun and the entry was me exploring the "what if" scenario.

But hey! An Otyugh that is an echinoderm! Hmm. Like a big ol seastar! Hmmm! Perhaps like a starfish! HMMMMMM!

[marthawrites]

"don't shut me out. please"

I hope it is not too late for me to join the celebration ☺️ Congratulations! 💕👏🏼

Thank you sooososo much! You are such a gem and I appreciate all of your fandom love more than you know! I did my best to include a (one shot appropriate) slow burn, angst, and a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this ride MWAH!

Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word Count: 6.3k+

About: A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

Includes: Chance encounter, age difference (references to Aemond x Alys) mentions of cheating, allusions to cheating, angst, second chance romance, and smut featuring vaginal fingering, possessive sex, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is the longest piece I've wrote in quite awhile - whew! I also feel like it's one of the more ambitious one-shot fics I've worked on/completed. Reader is non-descript. As always, please, enjoy!

read part 2 Between the Covers here

-

I.

There were two things tied for number one on your five-year goal list.

First, be out of your city apartment (preferably as a home owner and not a renter)

Second, have a dog. 

They went hand in hand. One couldn’t happen without the other. So, it was a hard tie and you weren’t willing to budge on either. Until then, to take the edge off your self-proclaimed animal loneliness, you volunteered at a local shelter two nights a week. Mondays and Wednesdays.

While your day job wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or professional athlete – ones that your family pushed you to have while growing up – it still paid decently and had the potential for career advancement. And! You were able to live on your own. Not having a roommate was worth the dry job description. Besides, your boss was fair and most of your co-workers were friendly; a win win, really.

Tonight, Monday, you finished your shift, went home to change, then headed out to the shelter. Even though it was all volunteer hours you valued punctuality and did your best to get there around the same time each night.

“Hey! You made it!” Arryk called out to you when you stepped inside the building. Chaos sparked all around. He did a great job running and maintaining the schedule, and with the help of volunteers alongside regular staff, it was, more often than not, smooth sailing. Tonight, however, it appeared quite the opposite.

“Hey! Yeah, a few minutes later than usual, sorry!” You said as you walked over to him.

He waved a hand brushing off your apology. “No worries. We had a few people call in today. So, since being short staffed we’re definitely running behind. I know you normally help bathe the dogs with Baela tonight, but can I ask you to do something else instead?” He winced slightly with his question, unsure of your answer. He knew how much you loved Baela and cleaning the dogs!

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, crossing your arms. “You know I won’t administer shots. If I could get over my fear of needles I’d be a veterinarian and not an office worker like I am!” You scrunched your brows before one, all on its own accord, arched up dubiously.

“Ha!” He laughed. “No no no, I know. We have six dogs that need walking tonight. And I don’t think Targaryen can handle all of ‘em.”

“Helaena? She’s back?” You asked, eyes bright with surprise.

“She’s still away for that college trip. It’s her younger brother, Aemond. Have you met him before?”

You’d heard Helaena talk about him, of course, but you’d never met him. Shaking your head, you peered around the shelter looking for anyone else with the Targaryen tell-tale silver-blonde hair. No one caught your eye. “I haven’t. But, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver!” He praised. “He’s down the west hall getting them ready. Depending on how long you're here afterward, there might be another couple who could use a second walk. Terriers. You know how they are.”

“Happy to help, Arryk!” He was a good guy. You’d always liked him.

“Aemond’s tall, towheaded as the rest of his family, and has an eyepatch. You can’t miss him.” And with that Cargyll switched tasks and got right back to work.

Turning and walking down the west hall, you were happy to say, chaos began to fizzle out. This hall had the larger dogs; no wonder Aemond wouldn’t be able to walk all six at once. Even with the slow turn of summer to autumn sunset wouldn’t be for another three hours. Assuming all went well you’d be able to walk the second batch of dogs, too. 

Down the aisle were five opened doors with each respective dog ready for their walk. Their leashes were hooked onto the door so they couldn’t run amuck. You patted and scratched them, earning yourself more wagging tails, a few happy barks, and some excited licks. Looking to the end of the hall you saw someone who you assumed was your evening walking partner. He was kneeling, talking soothingly to a great big senior hound, while clasping the final buckle of their harness. “Hello, uh-, Aemond?” You called out feeling slightly self-conscious. 

Still kneeling, he turned his head to look up at you. Any softness in his single eye quickly hardened to match the rest of his sharp features. “Hey,” he said, caught off guard by your presence; someone he’d never seen calling him out by name. “Is there something I can help you with?” Slowly, in a single fluid motion, he stood up and the aged dog kept his eyes on him the whole time, panting happily.

Whoa. He was tall. And, at first sight, incredibly good looking: dressed in casual black clothes, long silver hair tied into a braid, with a scar along the left side of his face that you had to tell yourself not to stare at. His mouth was a unique shape, too, and you weren’t sure if he was merely waiting for a response or if he was smirking the tiniest pout at you. “Hi,” you said again with a nervous laugh. You told him your name. “Arryk sent me. Said you could use some help with the walk tonight?” ‘Play it cool, dummy. He’s really handsome, so what? He could be a huge asshole. Play. It. Cool,’ your inner voice said.

Did he have a mechanical eye beneath his patch? The way he looked at you, then, made you feel like he read your thoughts. “Ah. I could certainly use the help,” he said smoothly with a small curve of lip, turning his attention to the three dogs at the front of the hallway. “Wanna take those three?” He asked, looping the big dog’s leash around his wrist. “I mean, you can have any of them as long as I get this guy. He’s my favorite.”

Your pulse raced a little too fast. Clearing your throat, you smiled in an attempt to ease the butterflies in your belly. “I don’t mind. Why is he your favorite?” You turned and began to unclasp leashes from their doors; happy tips and taps of claws growing louder at the pups’ excitement.

“Reminds me of my girl at home,” Aemond replied, adoration clear in his voice. “Big and old, a little stinky, a little slobbery. The best kind, really.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet. I don’t have any pets. I get my fix here,” you laughed. Holding all three dogs in one hand, you pulled the door open with the other. Except, it didn’t open. On instinct, you tried again hoping Aemond didn’t notice.

He strode up next to you with the rest of the dogs in tow, smirking at you for real this time, as he said, “it’s a push door.”

You knew it was a push door. Fuck. He gave you a knowing glance over his shoulder as he walked out, waiting for you to follow along.

II.

You didn’t see Aemond on Wednesday and you couldn’t deny your disappointment when you left for the night. Come to find out you two had been volunteering at the same place for months – only on different days. He tended to be there Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

Monday had been a chance encounter. One you couldn’t shake out of your head. 

Before leaving tonight, however, you took a selfie with Aemond’s favorite old hound. You’d exchanged numbers but hadn’t an excuse to strike up a conversation. Yet. Now, with the selfie as an excuse, you opened a fresh text thread and sent him the photo along with:

Someone missed you tonight! 

While buckling up in your car and getting ready to reverse out of your parking spot, your phone dinged with an incoming message:

Very cute. Will you be there on Monday? Maybe Cargyll will assign up walking duties again.

Your belly flipped. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting him to message back – especially so quickly. Before you could stop yourself you sent back:

Yup! See you then?

And he sent:

I’ll find another excuse to be there. 

Feeling a little bold, you replied:

Excited to see you again! You have these adorable dimples when you smile. Maybe I’ll see those, too?

When nothing came through for a few minutes, you feared you might have gone too far. It was just a little innocent flirting, right? Nothing bad? And then:

Maybe so. See you Monday.

Smiling, you didn’t send anything back. It’d be your luck to say something dumb and rub him the wrong way. 

During your first walk, as soon as the ice broke, you both clicked really well. Hopefully – just maybe – things would flow like that again. The connection you felt, something akin to a liveware, couldn’t have been one-sided. He had to feel a spark of it, too; even if just a little.

You drove home, made dinner while facetiming one of your friends from uni, and when she asked about the spark in your eye you told her about your friend Helaena’s younger brother.

III.

“I seriously cannot believe you’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit trilogy was a little silly, but watchable. But you haven’t even seen that?” Aemond asked clearly aghast at your lack of understanding his reference.

Tonight, you both got walking duty again and neither of you complained. And, this time, he regarded you with a softer look in his eye than his original sharp glance. He was dressed in dark casuals again and you hated (loved?) how good he made them look. His hair was in a bun and his eyepatch stayed firmly in place. You wanted to ask him about it but weren’t sure if you should try it yet. Instead, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “You’re making it sound better and better the more you talk about it.”

“That’s because it’s the best.” The dogs pulled both of you along and you had to walk brisker than normal to keep up with them and Aemond’s longer legs. He seemed unaffected by it.

“So, you recommend I watch it?” You asked playfully.

“No,” he started, very serious. “I recommend you read it first and then watch the movies.”

If you had more breath in your lungs you’d have giggled – not laughed, but giggled. Something about the way he said it, and the totally serious look on his face, tickled you. “Will you watch them with me?”

The question appeared to catch Aemond off guard. He looked at you, lingering over your pinkened cheeks and smirking lips, before finally making it back to your eyes. Just when he opened his mouth to say something in reply, a completely unrelated thing stole his attention. Sometime during your bantering you’d made it back to the shelter, and a tall dark-haired woman called out, “there’s my sweet Aemond. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

If you thought Aemond attractive, this woman made him look like any regular ol' Joe. She was elegant, warmed by a late summer tan, and had raven dark hair cascading down her back; truly a vision of enchantment. When she sauntered to him and pressed her body to his, you felt like a voyeur watching the embrace.

“Alys,” Aemond breathed quietly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” she answered as she trailed manicured fingers across the front of his chest.

She had a timeless look to her, the kind that concealed her age. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty, you thought. You really hadn’t a clue. All you knew, now, is that you should finish your task alone.

Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Posture tense. “I told you I was busy tonight–”

Before you could stop yourself you cut him off with an awkward wave. “See you later, Aemond.” And, with that, you walked inside before you overheard anything else they might be saying to each other. Turning to glance over your shoulder one last time, you were met with a look of deliberate triumph from Alys; she had the greenest eye you’d ever seen. 

It was haunting.

Driving home, you felt stupid. Aemond was just a guy you just met. It was silly to think someone like him would be single and even sillier to think your innocent flirtations would be working on him. You had half a mind to delete his number. Or, at the very least to delete the short message thread of your texts.

Instead of making dinner like you normally did, you called in delivery and facetimed with your friend as you waited. She immediately knew something was off and you were quick to tell her everything that happened.

Twenty minutes passed and you were starting to feel better. It’s not like you two hooked up or even kissed. It was just a chance meeting with playful banter. Nothing to get shook up about. “Food’s here. Thanks for listening to me. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” You said as you got up to answer the door. 

When all else failed, your favorite food could always make you feel better.

Turning the tv on and sitting down amongst your couch pillows and blankets, you were getting ready to dig in when your phone rang. 

Aemond. 

Your insides did a weird flip and hunger disappeared entirely from your mind and belly. Should you answer? Let it go to voicemail? Turn the stupid thing off and completely ignore him? Right before the final ring, you decided. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he said, immediately sounding relieved. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t yet ready to call it a night with you.”

“It’s no biggie,” you replied. Lying. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything–,” you paused, searching for something else to say to soften the edge of your voice, “–the dogs were getting tired anyway.” God. It sounded stupid even to your own ears.

Aemond sighed through the phone. You wondered if he slid his hand down his face or through his hair. It sounded like he did. “No. Alys is… it’s complicated. She’s my ex and–”

“ –you don’t have to explain anything to me,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s fine.” Despite it being a phone call, you tried to smile as if it would blunt the dismissal of your tone.

“I mean it,” he said. “I really wasn’t ready to say bye yet. What do you say you skip your regular Wednesday night plans and grab a milkshake or something with me?”

Your insides flipped again but for an entirely different reason this time. You knew it: the sparks definitely weren’t one sided. The firm set of Aemond’s jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders flashed once more in your mind’s eye. Since your break up with your long-term boyfriend you’d been on a few dates, but none of them lead to anything worthwhile. With how you and Aemond clicked, however? This date might lead to something more than a hook-up (or, attempt at a hook-up. Some men truly had no game). “Are you sure…?” You asked after a moment. “You and Alys looked pretty comfortable–,”

“ –I’m sure,” it was his turn to cut you off.

“Alright then. Let’s do it.”

IV.

It'd been two months since your first milkshake date with Aemond – the first of many dates. It was a guilty pleasure of yours and apparently one of his, too!

Your first kiss, first time meeting his elder dog, Vhagar, and first time meeting his family were all memories you cherished. 

The more you learned about Aemond’s relationship with Alys, the more you understood it "complicated". Including Targaryen drama, Targaryen business, and a list of other things you had a hard time following. It didn’t matter anymore, though, Aemond reassured you. Things were done between them and he only wanted you; proving it to you with fingers and mouth until you begged for a break.

A lesson you learned from your last relationship – one Aemond learned from his, too – was to be careful with love. As much as you genuinely enjoyed him and his company, a barrier stood between you that neither dared yet to cross.

Love.

Each day you fell for him a little more; you were scared to admit it. The scar of heartbreak healed slowly. Could you truly trust Aemond with that part of yourself? With the very essence of your heart? It’d been two months and you still weren’t entirely sure.

If he felt the same he’d say something, right?

Autumn blanketed the lands with brisk air, rainy days, and rolling fog. As days grew short and nights long, you and Aemond spent more time at your apartment or his quarter at the Targaryen estate. Your apartment was the clear favorite. Living alone had its perks: never having to worry about nosy family or friends who showed up unannounced.

And thank God you didn’t live with anyone else. 

"Mmh… fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day. I can't get enough of you. Let me make my girl feel good," he said against your mouth as one of his hands moved up the inside of your thigh. "Are you wet already? I bet you are," he chuckled, fingertips tracing your slit. "Mmm… I knew it. Your clit is sooo needy, isn't it?" 

Shit. Those hushed words, the glint in his eye, his rasped tone… you happily indulged him in whatever way he wanted. And him, you. Fingers, mouth, cock, he quickly learned what tricks made you melt. 

As much as he loved having you ride him, or bending you over, his absolute favorite was fucking you into the mattress. You sprawled out beneath him, hair messy and fanned out around your head, legs wrapped tight around his waist, fingernails on his body… he could never get enough of your blushed face beneath him, trembling and arching as he pushed you to peak after peak.

Your sheets had never been cleaned so often in your entire life.

It was particularly rainy today and you were both finished with everything on your to-do list. Aemond sat on the floor in front of you as you lounged in your overstuffed chair. You told him you'd read the Lord of the Rings as long as he read it to you. He didn't even pretend to be annoyed by your bargain. He read to you from his own collection, claiming he liked the worn feeling of the pages better than a new book's pages. 

Like any proper reader Aemond started with The Hobbit. You enjoyed it more than you thought you would. More so than the story, however, you enjoyed him reading aloud to you – he had the loveliest voice. You were about half way through The Fellowship of the Ring and the story continued to get better.

But, all afternoon, Aemond's phone never stopped going off. It seemed like every few minutes it would ping with some kind of notification. "Who's blowing you up?" You asked, annoyance creeping into your tone.

Stopping mid sentence, he looked. "Alys," he sighed as he scrolled through the various messages. 

You tried to not look over his shoulder to the texts. You really did. But there was something about Aemond's shift in posture, and the air around him, that made you suspicious. "What's going on?" You asked in your best nonchalant manner.

"She's asking if I have some of her clothes at my place still," he answered and you swore you saw pink spread atop his cheeks.

That caught you off guard. "Why would she have clothes–"

And whatever else you were going to say was abruptly cut off.

There, in a new string of messages, was the single text line, "I miss you, baby boy," followed by at least three photographs of Alys in lingerie and various stages of undress. 

"What the fuck Aemond!?" You asked, anger and hurt instantly warming your blood. "What the hell were those? Are you fucking joking?"

"I have no idea why she sent–"

" –is that why she left clothes at your place? Couldn't let her go for real? Jesus Christ I can't believe you." Anger flushed your face and bittered your words.

"Listen, please. Hear me out, bab–"

" –oh fuck off, Aemond, you don't get to 'babe' me around anymore. In fact, just leave."

He looked as hurt as you. And shocked. A hundred emotions played across his chiseled features. "No, really. Let me explain," he pleaded with eye and tone.

You weren't having it. You were cheated on before and he knew it. It made your own hurt cleave even deeper. You really fucking liked him. Maybe even loved him. And this whole time he had you and Alys? "I'm seriously about to get really fucking angry. Leave. Now."

He stood and left. Silent fury screamed around him like a whirlwind. He didn't even give you one final look over his shoulder.

He shut your door with a deliberate click.

You curled up in your blanket alone as fat ugly tears streamed down your face. You couldn't be bothered to grab a tissue for your snotty nose. 

Aemond's leather jacket was still draped over the back of your couch and his book still lay on the floor. Your crying somehow turned uglier at the realization.

Eventually you dozed off. With Aemond, you always had your phone on silent so you didn't hear all his missed calls and texts.

V.

The following month went by in a blur; you drowned yourself in work. You also stopped volunteering because you didn't want to give Aemond the opportunity to meet you there. By some feat of strength you ignored all his attempts at talking – and by proxy, apologizing.

The only thing you said to him was a single text:

I need time. Please understand

Part of you wondered how it affected him. His calls and texts became sparse until they eventually stopped.

Helaena asked where you'd been and you felt horrible lying to her. So, you didn't. After telling her the story she sighed and asked if you'd want to grab tea. You agreed. Meeting her at a local cafe allowed you to air out your feelings; laughs and tears alike. She was kind, and sweet, and supportive without being passive. She loved her brother but knew he had many of his own issues. You'd been friends for over a year and this was the first true heart to heart you shared.

Upon returning home you picked up the Fellowship and tried to read from where Aemond left off. But, it wasn’t the same without him and it only made you cry. Again.

VI.

The following morning, despite your car's newer model, it barely wanted to start for your drive to work. By a stroke of luck you made it there fine. And, made it back home that evening, too. But that was the end of your luck. It needed to be picked up and taken to a shop until a mechanic could see it.

Carless, you had to rely on Uber or public transportation. Yuck.

A few days of stress passed and now you were done for the week. Thank God for weekends. Unfortunately your groceries were extremely low and you would need to make a trip in the morning. You sighed and used it as an excuse to order pizza.

After waking up and a breakfast of (the last, and past its sell-by date) packet oatmeal you got around to make the walk to the nearest grocery store. Knowing you'd be walking home, too, the list was small. Carrying bags up two flights of stairs was hard enough, much less carrying them home a mile!

On the way back it started sprinkling. Great. Just great. You started walking faster with hopes of making quicker time than your leisurely stroll to the store. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard your name called. Was that…? Stopping in your tracks you looked across your shoulder to the side of the road and saw none other than Aemond. You knew his car and voice anywhere. You didn't have to see yourself to know a dozen emotions played across your face.

"Hey," he said gently, his own features a mirror of yours.

"Hi," you said.

"Why are you walking in the rain with groceries?"

Slumping your unintentionally scrunched up shoulders, you sighed. "Stupid car died on me and it's been with the mechanic for almost a week."

He smiled softly. So soft. The outside of his seeing eye crinkled and emotion rushed to your chest. Your gut. "You're way too good to be walking alone. Let me drive you home at least?" 

You didn't resist. How could you? "Alright. Sure. Just dropping me off though, okay?" Guilt panged your chest. Did he feel it too? Could he read it on your face he knew so well?

"Alright," he answered, expression falling just slight. You might as well have stomped on his foot with how it affected you.

I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. Can we try it again? Can I hold your hand? God I love your hair in a ponytail. You smell good. Did you see the trailer for that new horror movie? I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. It all turned around your head like a fucking rotisserie chicken. It shouldn't be so hard to say any of those things to him. But it was.

You didn't say anything on the short ride home. Neither did he. His right hand flexed a few times and you wondered if he was having a hard time, too.

"Can you get it all upstairs?" He asked as he pulled into an empty spot and parked, looking across to you with horribly concealed emotion.

"Yes, but…," you trailed off momentarily, trying to read his face. "I still have your book and jacket. Wanna come up and grab them?" You asked hopefully.

He killed the engine faster than you could blink. "Yes! So that's where they've been. You could have mentioned it sooner," he said slightly accusingly, grinning at you with a spark of playfulness.

Leading the way upstairs to your apartment, you unlocked the door and disappeared inside. After placing your items down and grabbing Aemond's, you turned to look at him standing in the doorway. He leaned against it. Waiting. Quiet. He glanced around with a wistfulness that made your throat tight. You watched him watching you and your home until the air became awkward – was it half a second, a few seconds, longer? You weren't sure. 

Slowly you walked over to him. Your gaze flickered up at him as you handed his things back. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" You asked. "Did you think I really wouldn't find out? Why did you stick around if I wasn't good enough?"

He blinked. Taken back. "You never even gave me the chance to explain." His jaw feathered before it tightened. His eye hardened.

You grabbed the door, fixing to close it on him. Now that you started talking – unloading pent up questions which kept you tossing and turning at night – you couldn't decide if you wanted to slam it on his face or yell. "I told you how I was cheated on! And you did it anyway! I trusted you, Aemond." Your voice thinned, sounding shrill even to your own ears.

One of his hands braced on the door so you couldn't close it on him. "So this is your revenge then, huh? Punishing both of us? Why don't you trust me?" Hurt and fury simmered in the lovely hue of his eye. A storm. No, a hurricane. "Alys and I have been done for months. Months. Even before you and I met. I'm sorry for what she did but I can’t control what she does. She was playing her wicked games trying to sabotage us– you and me. Don't shut me out. Please." 

He pleaded, every pore and line of his face begging for forgiveness. As each word came off his tongue they clicked into place in your head. He meant it. He was telling the truth. Before you could stop yourself your fists balled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down so your mouth crashed up to his. "You mean it?" You asked through the kiss.

Instantly he leaned down into you, and instantly he held onto your waist pulling you deeper against him. His other hand cradled the side of your face daring to curve along the shape of your skull. "I mean it. Yes I fucking mean it," he answered against the kiss; breath stealing yours away until it left you in a little moan.

You pulled him inside and shut the door, locking it. You moaned as he nipped and bit at your neck. Your heart thumped wildly. He sucked at the sensitive skin, again and again, pulling away just before leaving a mark. "God, Aem,” you whimpered. Goosebumps covered your body. The only thing on your mind was him.

"Fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much." His hands were somehow all over you all at once. His mouth trailed, and dragged, and kissed over any exposed portion of your skin. He happily pulled off layers of your clothing to expose more and more of your soft, warm, saccharine flesh; intoxicating him. After weeks of your separation the last thing he wanted to do was to push too far too fast.  “Can I take this off?” He asked before taking your shirt off.

“Yes,” you replied breathily. “Fuck it. Take all of it off. I missed you too. So much,” you said as you helped pull his clothes off, too. He pushed you against a wall. You kissed. Heavier, and hotter, and hungrier. You pushed him against a wall. 

He gasped as he smirked. “I love when you act all tough when we both know I can have you squirming under me in minutes,” he growled, pupil swelling. The dimples at the very corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement, however, as he once again pushed you against the wall. You were both only in your underwear, now, and his lean body on yours had you aching. “My tough girl… how quickly do you think it’ll last when my fingers are in you?”

“Why don’t we find out?” You asked defiantly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t last long at all. By now you were both down the hallway and your bedroom was only a couple feet away. You needed him. Now. And judging by how fucking hard he was he needed you too.

The next moment went by in a blur and before you could catch yourself you were sprawled out on your back atop your bed. Aemond made quick work of moving you both inside, and made quicker work of pulling your panties down. He groaned as your thighs immediately spilled open for him. He dragged two fingers up your slit and circled your clit with your arousal. “Shit–,” he hissed. “Never make me wait so long to have this pussy again. Do you understand me? Never,” he said as he worked your already swollen clit. He played with it just how he knew you liked it and your cunt’s tiny wet sounds sent his cock throbbing. “Answer me.”

Tension built in the low muscles of your belly. Your legs began to tighten already – one of the tell-tale signs of your approaching climax. How the hell could he push you there so quickly? “N-never! Ahh-h never again!” You replied, voice light, and sweet, and tantalizing as any sin Aemond ever knew. “Please, Aemond, I want to cum…!”

He shoved those same two fingers into you. “Good girl,” he said as he curled those fingers. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine. Give it to me,” he said huskily as he worked them in and out of you. It was sloppy and wet. Borderline obscene. Each time he slammed his hand against you he was mindful to press the heel of his palm against your clit and your mound, knowing how the extra pressure sent your pretty toes curling.

You cried out his name as your eyes clenched shut. The tension in your belly snapped and a wave of glorious bliss washed over you. Sweat sheened between your breasts and along your lip. You arched, quivered, shuddering in the aftermath of his intensity. 

Aemond’s mouth crashed to yours and you threaded your fingers through the roots of his hair. It was still in a ponytail and you had no mind to take it out, you just had to pull him deeper into the kiss. He tasted the salt of your sweat and groaned. “Relax your pussy, baby, you’re clenching me really hard. It feels amazing but I don’t wanna hurt you pulling out,” he said tenderly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “Just feels too good.” You tried to steady your breath and relax as he laid beside you, continuing to kiss your neck and shoulders. When your spongy walls finally eased around him you were sad to feel him withdraw. Stress melted away from your subconscious and you wanted to thank him for the pleasure. You wondered if your eyes said it while he looked at you.

Leaning up, he discarded the final piece of his clothing and sighed in relief as his cock sprang free. He got between your thighs and looked down at you hungerily. “Look at you all doe eyed already. See? I knew you couldn’t stay tough for long,” he said, smug, as he lined up with your drenched cunt. He held one of your legs up against him, and you pressed the other against his side. 

When you left for the store this morning you had no idea your afternoon would go in this direction.

He pushed into you. Inch by inch he sunk into you and soon he was as deep as he could be. A moan escaped both of you, and a throatier one left him when his free hand tugged at your bra. It was one that clipped in the front. He popped it open and rocked into you as soon as your tits spilled free. "You're so sexy like this."

With your body already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now with Aemond building a rhythm between your thighs, you weren't going to last long. "You feel so good," you purred, eyelids heavy. "Fuck I missed you."

Another sound left his chest and when you wrapped your legs around his slim waist you swore you felt goosebumps pebble all along his skin. Or, maybe those were your goosebumps on your legs. Whatever the case, Aemond leaned forward and kissed you again. "I missed you too," he rumbled. "Gonna let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again?"

You two made good use of your birth control and you weren't about to deny him – or yourself – the pleasure of being thoroughly fucked and stuffed. "Y-yeah," you stammered, smiling.

Aemond mumbled something incoherent into your neck, and if your brain wasn't foggy from his perfect fucking cock you might have caught what he said. 

He leaned up and supported himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're my girl. You're my fucking girl. You're my fucking girl," he repeated again and again until the pace of his thrusts grew sloppy. Somehow the sloppiness of it, the neediness and urgency of his voice, sent emotion swelling in all of you.

Heat collected and grew out from your spine, webbing throughout your entire body. You clung to him desperately. You rolled your hips up into him and shamelessly grinded your clit against his pelvis as he drove in and out of you. It was all too much. You crumbled beneath him and let orgasm take control of you. The depths of your body squeezed and convulsed around him, holding him tight and soaking the fullness of his length with your slick. He never stopped or paused his thrusts. 

His own peak followed. Once he was as deep as he could be he released everything he had into you. He stayed there, both of you panting through little moans, until he no longer twitched between your stretched walls. Slowly, he pulled out, and slowly, his seed dribbled out of you. Grinning, he rolled onto his back and scooped you against him.

"Let's stay here like this all day," you mumbled happily, fingertips trailing up and down his abdomen and chest.

"You'll get no argument from me," he said.

Quiet minutes passed and the sound of his heart nearly put you into a trance. "I'm sorry for how I acted," you finally admitted.

All the while he'd been petting and trailing his fingers through your hair. He didn't stop as he answered, "and I'm sorry for not trying harder." He kissed your forehead and held you tighter.

"Let's try it again. For real this time. With the titles and commitment and everything."

"Are you asking or telling me to be your boyfriend?"

You smirked. "I'm suggesting."

Returning your smirk, he pulled you atop him so you could straddle him. "You're all mine," he said with a dark eye. "My perfect girl." 

Leaning down, you kissed and nipped his bottom lip. "Are you already hard again, Aemond Targaryen?"

A chuckle rumbled somewhere in his chest as his touch dented into your hips to hold you at just the right angle. With a roll of his hips he pushed himself up inside you again. "Whose cock is this?"

You gasped, eyes darkening with another round of lust. "Mine."

"That's right. Yours. Not anyone else's. It's fucking yours."

You rode him until your tits were covered in fresh hickies and you were filled with another load of him.

Yours. His. The second chance you both needed.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @dreamsofoldvalyria @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @sahvlren @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @evermorre

[zablife]

Now You Know the Truth (Part 7)

Tommy x wife reader

Summary: Dr. Holford comes to answer questions about Tommy's condition and you play your part as the supportive wife...perhaps too well.

Author's Note: My readers have spoken via poll, calling for a happy(ish) ending for this series. However, I also heard those of you who craved a dose of evil. I hope you enjoy the ending I've crafted for this twisted tale. I have to admit, I find it quite satisfying!

Warnings: medical situations, inaccurate medical advice, manipulation

Part 6

"If left untreated, the consequences would be dire," Dr. Holford concluded as silence blanketed the room.

Tommy stood from his desk and began pacing slowly, hands stuffed in his pockets as he began to shake his head in disagreement. "If," he mumbled disgustedly. He cast a long shadow where he stood above the doctor's chair, glowering as he pronounced, "You don't know a bloody thing about what's going to happen."

"Tommy, please, you promised to listen," you began, exchanging a worried glance with Dr. Holford.

"While you are correct that I do not know the exact course of events, I can say with certainty it is not a matter of if but when you succumb. Your wife tells me you enjoy race horses, playing the odds. Well let me assure you these percentages are not in your favor, sir. " Although the doctor tried to adopt a more forceful tone, Tommy only scoffed in reply.

"You people and your percentages. Wasn't it your doctors who told my aunt the gold salts worked without fail?" he asked, eyebrow cocked defiantly.

"As I've explained, your condition is quite different and the treatment I'm offering is a new cure," the doctor assured. "It's less invasive and we would keep your confinement to the absolute minimum."

Tommy stood rubbing his temples as he considered the gravity of the situation. Finally he asked through gritted teeth, "How long?"

"I'm afraid we won't know until we've begun, but cases similar to yours have taken less than six months,” Dr. Holford advised, mouth twitching slightly as he spoke. Every moment spent deceiving your husband was wearing down his defenses and you prayed Tommy wouldn't notice the poorly concealed nervous tremor.

Tommy grumbled as he reached for his cigarette case, a rumble of dissatisfaction issuing forth. "I'm a busy man, doctor. My business interests combined with the care of my pregnant wife….That isn't possible," he concluded, the snap of his lighter finalizing the decision hastily.

Rising to your feet, you placed a hand to Tommy's forearm gently. "That's exactly why you must get well soon," you pleaded. "I need you, Tom," you said with as much sincerity as you could muster.

Though you could feel his icy blue eyes upon you, a sudden waft of smoke created a veil between you. Momentarily, you were transported to Dr. Holford's office and the moment your final plan for Tommy took shape.

I will insist he get well and thus he will refuse to go. That’s when you must present the second option. However, Tommy must be thoroughly convinced in order to believe he's chosen it for himself.

Yes, but are you certain this is what you want, Mrs. Shelby? The effects would be irreversible.

As you refocused on Tommy's crystal irises, Dr. Holford's voice came wafting over your shoulder like a siren call. "There is another way.”

Tommy broke from you suddenly, attempting to hide his curiosity and failing when he rushed out the words, “Go on.”

Sitting forward, the doctor explained, “Some colleagues of mine have shared their research on an experimental procedure to remove the tumor instead of attempting to shrink it.”

“A simpler, more effective solution?” Tommy mused.

“More painful perhaps, but certainly less time to execute,” the doctor conceded with quickening breath, his knee bouncing slightly as he cut his eyes toward you. “And the results would be..." he paused for emphasis, "immediate."

Your eyes gleamed at his word choice, hopeful Tommy would seize upon his promise.

“Pain is the least of my concerns,” Tommy replied gruffly, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray forcefully.

You could tell by his determination, he had made up his mind without you having to ask, but you voiced the question for Dr. Holford's benefit. "Then you'll agree to put this behind us before the baby arrives?" you prodded.

He only nodded with clenched jaw as Dr. Holford reached into his briefcase for the consent forms.

"Fucking get on with it then," Tommy announced to no one in particular as he signed them and stormed out of the room.

"Thank you," you mouthed to the doctor.

He returned your show of appreciation with a small, but triumphant nod.

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

One year later...

"There she is! There's mummy!" Frances called in sing song, crossing the lawn to bring you a wriggling infant.

"Did you have a lovely nap, my darling?" you asked the tiny raven haired cherub, her bright blue eyes catching the light and glinting back at you mischievously. At times she looked so much like Tommy, it stole your breath.

"Not long enough," Frances replied with apologetic eyes. "Mr. Shelby woke her ma'am. I'm awfully sorry."

"Is he wandering the halls again?" you sighed.

"I'm afraid so, but the nurse is coming to fetch him,” she assured you.

"No, there’s no need," you replied with a cheerful smile. "We’ll tend to daddy, won’t we?” you asked your child, hoisting her onto your hip as Frances went back to her other duties. Meanwhile your daughter gurgled back at you happily and you stopped to admire her, heart flooding with overwhelming joy.

Strolling back through the well manicured grounds you surveyed the magnificent face of Arrow House. “This will all be yours one day,” you promised placing a kiss to her temple. “Mummy saw to it because I love you so,” you cooed to her in the soothing voice reserved for bedtime fairy tales.

As you rounded the corner to the room that you once shared with your husband, you sighed softly at the sight of him sitting on the bed, struggling to unbutton his shirt. A maid passed you in the hall, offering a sympathetic smile. “Mr. Shelby looks well today,” she chirped encouragingly, her green eyes shining with admiration for your bravery.

In truth, everyone looked upon you with kindness after the unfortunate outcome of your husband’s brain surgery. Though docile and calm, he had been left simple minded, relying on you for every decision.

“I think you’re right, Mary,” you agreed, closing the door to your husband’s room for privacy.

Bringing your daughter to his bedside, you watched him slowly form the words to greet her, a lazy smile settling on his face before returning to his task. Placing her on the floor to play, you turned back to help him remove his shirt and swing his legs into bed.

You pulled the covers up to his chin and pushed the fringe from his forehead, watching as his empty eyes gazed back at you. All the spite and malice of years past erased with no hint of the formidable man he once was. At times it made you believe you could love him if not for the suffering that came before, which you could neither forgive nor forget.

Pulling back to study him, your face hardened involuntarily at the memory of all the years you spent under the reign of his cruelty. How the tide had turned, you thought as you watched your now frail husband draw breath.

"Y/n?" he called out, hand reaching from beneath the duvet to reach for you. "My love?"

Leaning forward to tuck him in, your lips brushed past his ear whispering, “How long have you been dead for, darling? Lost inside your mind. Have you forgotten?" Your breath fanned over him in a gentle wave, making him shudder slightly and you relished it.

Your lips curled into a satisfied smile as you hissed, "I'm not yours any longer, but make no mistake you are mine until the day you die." Then you leaned down to retrieve your daughter, walking away to leave him sputtering in distress.

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

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[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 7 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

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

A/N: I’m back baby! Thank you guys for waiting <3

W/C: 4.611

part six

"I won't look. Don't trust me at all, do you?" I mutter to Amira after taking my top off, grabbing the shirt she's handing me with my eyes closed.

"You'll like it. It's a part of my surprise." She sighs, helping me pull the shirt down my body without my makeup getting on the collar.

"Can I look now?" I ask, eyes still squeezed shut.

"Yeah, turn around."

I turn, looking in the mirror. I stay quiet for a moment, then gasp in surprise.

"What? An England kit? Why are you making me betray Spain?" I attempt to joke, looking at her.

"Like you didn't live here for so many years." She scoffs, pushing me.

"I'm just kidding. Why the kit, though?" I ask, fixing the material in the mirror.

"Ta da!" She exclaims, I look back at her, frowning in confusion when she starts waving two keycards in my face. My hands fly to take one and I read it quickly.

"No, way! You got tickets for the England vs. Australia friendly?"

"Yeah, got them a couple days ago." She replies, and I eye her suspiciously.

"Oh- mister Trent got them for you? Guess he really likes you." I tease, watching her become more and more flustered.

"Shut up- he gave them to show his appreciation."

"Yeah, you want to believe that? You'll be upgraded to wag in a few weeks, trust." I add, laughing at her annoyed expression.

"Aren't you and Jude a thing?" She accuses, putting on her own kit. Finally, she grabs her handbag and car keys off her desk.

I register her words a little too late, but my head whips around in disgust.

"Over my dead body."

"You both were cute last time." She mumbles, both of us walking up to her parked car.

"Absolutely not." I state firmly, immediately connecting my phone to the car.

"Oh, how the tables have turned.." She whispers, but I hear her clearly. I send her a glare, though my glare gets even more intense when she pulls out her strawberry and mango-flavored vape.

"Put that thing away, now!"

"I just realized how different watching a game feels when I'm not working." I say, admiring the full Wembley Stadium. We had finally arrived at our seats, and the view was perfect. Looking around, I do recognize some people, realizing this was probably the family section.

"Turn that working brain of yours off and enjoy. Look, it's starting!" Amira nags, wrapping her arm around mine in excitement.

I chuckle at her, deciding to just enjoy the match. Watching both England's and Australia's teams move around the pitch. Halftime comes around and ends quickly, making way for an opportunity for England. Grealish kicks the ball against the post, missing a chance and making us cringe, but we burst into cheers when Watkins manages to try again and scores.

The match ends with a 1-0 for England. When the whistle is blown, we sit down again. We'd stood up near full time, anticipating a last-minute goal from Australia. It was a friendly, we knew that, but making it exciting was so much more fun than just sitting there and watching the game.

"What now? Is your man coming here?" I ask, fixing my shirt and smiling cheekily at Amira.

"He said he will- after freshening up. Let's wait." She tells me, patting my thigh.

"Didn't even deny that he's your man?" I tease, watching her roll her eyes.

We're interrupted a couple minutes later. I hear someone shout her name, watching both Trent and Jude walk over to our seats. Trent greets us in a friendly manner, while Jude stands next to him like he was forced to come up.

I slowly allow Trent and Amira to have a private conversation, and my eyes land on Jude when they walk away to have some more privacy.

"What are you doing here? And what's with the kit?" He asks, arms crossed.

I scoff, mirroring his body language. Looking him up and down. 

"Can't attend a match now? Don't worry, I was over the moon since you weren't playing." I retort, being petty.

I watch him roll his eyes, his expression changing for a second. He opens his mouth to say something, but he hesitates for a moment.

"Who's on your back?"

"What?"

"Your shirt number."

"I don't know- who?" I ask, turning around, confused, when I hear a sudden chuckle.

"Who's on the back?" I ask, trying to see with my phone camera, frowning at his smug face. What the hell was his problem?

I take a picture, turning to face him again as I click on the picture, freezing when I see Jude's last name and number. My expression falters, and I use all my strength to keep my composure.

Amira, you fucking witch..

"Think you're obsessed with me." He whispers, leaning in. I lean back immediately, like he's some highly infectious disease.

"You're sick, Bellingham. It’s just your name, calm down..”

I reply, annoyed at the fact that I couldn't take the shirt off or put my jacket on since I left it in the car.

He goes to say something else, but he's cut off when I hear a familiar voice call out to him. Both of us turning around to see his mom, her eyes lighting up with warmth when she recognizes me.

"Mrs. Bellingham.." I greet, permanent smile plastered on my face when she walks up to us. I notice both her- husband and youngest son behind her. 

How could I not recognize his dad and brother?

This past summer, my entire social media feed was plastered with photos of Jude and his family on their first day. Not to forget the fact that I was literally behind the camera when the pictures were taken.

She pulls me into an embrace, her arms wrapping around me warmly. The musky and orange blossom scent of her perfume greets me, and it smells like the most expensive bottle of YSL 'Libre' I have ever smelled.

"How nice is it to see you here. Are you off due to international break?"

"Yes, I thought I'd come visit family and friends out here..." I trail off, my eyes darting to her husband next to her. She notices the hesitation in my voice and introduces us to each other.

"I’m Mark, nice to meet you. I have heard some good things about you. I've also had some contact with your father on some legal matters over in Spain. Good man he is.." He shakes my hand firmly, a very kind smile on his face.

"Thank you, I hope he's been a great help to your family.."

I immediately switch my speech. Trying to sound totally different from the tone I had used with Jude.

"Oh right, this is our youngest son. Jobe.." Denise begins, pushing her son towards me.

I press my lips together to stifle a chuckle, awkwardly shaking the teenage boy's hand.

"Nice to meet you. Hope you're a better football player than your older brother over here?"

I say, pointing a thumb at Jude. It sounds like a joke, but when I glance at Jude, he's giving me the nastiest look when his parents aren't watching. Jobe has only muttered one or two words, but has probably already been nicer to me than his brother has ever been to me.

Jobe only replies with a small smile, so I look up at his parents.

"You must be proud.."

"Of course, equally proud of our two boys.."

Mark replies, holding his son's shoulders. I chuckle, looking at Denise when she speaks.

"Did you enjoy the game? Must be a change of scenery.."

"Oh- yeah, felt weird not working during a game. It was nice though, I was invited by a friend-"

I trail off, looking around to see Amira, noticing her giggle and chat with Trent a couple seats away.

"But she seems busy.." I laugh, they follow my line of sight and chuckle, nodding in acknowledgment.

"You're also wearing an England kit.." His dad notices, pointing to my shirt.

"Jude's, I presume?" His mom asks, making me nod. I turn, giving them a quick look at the "Bellingham" and number 10 on my back.

I'm wearing their last name on my back, that is really weird, if given some thought..

"A gift too.." I smile, facing them again.

I notice that they all glance at Jude for a moment before Denise speaks up again.

"Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? A small appreciation for helping Jude out with his Spanish and adjusting in Madrid."

Damn, how close did they think we were?

Lovely, very nice of her, but that would be a masterclass in awkwardness.

"That's incredibly kind of you, Mrs Bellingham, but I'm sure you don't get many dinners together as a family. So, I don't want to inconvenience your family. Besides, I've got some dinner reservations with my high school friends.."

Her expression immediately turns into an understanding one. I thank her once again for the invitation, holding her hand to convey my appreciation. Finishing our chat, I grab my bag from my seat, pulling it on my shoulder.

"I've got to go, roads will be busy.."

"Right, why don't you accompany y/n down, son?" Mark says, throwing his son a look.

I dart my eyes to Jude, his expression falters before he nods, listening to his dad.

I quickly bid them farewell, walking down alongside Jude.

"You didn't even jump in to save me once.” I mutter, grabbing my phone out of my handbag. Checking for any messages from Amira. 

Where did this little minx go?

"I was struggling to breathe when my mum invited you for dinner. Kept my mouth shut with difficulty.."

"How helpful.” I scoff, biting my lip in anticipation as we wait in front of Amira's car. The grey Audi A5 easily recognizable next to all the expensive sports cars.

"You can leave, you know.." I break the silence, looking up at Jude, resting my weight against the car door.

The alarm won't go off, right?

"You think my mom is going to be happy when I leave you here alone?" He asks, scrolling through his phone.

I sigh, sending one last threatening text message to Amira before shoving my phone in my pocket. An awkward silence ensues before I break it again.

"So, are you actually going to play next Tuesday against Italy?" I ask, giving him a skeptical look.

"Why? Want to see me play?" He smirks, putting his hand in the pocket of his blue sweatpants.

"Is that a genuine question? Obviously not.." I answer, furrowing my brows.

He scoffs, poking his tongue through his cheek. Looking me up and down.

"Why would I voluntarily come to see you?" I add, widening my eyes, looking at him in disbelief. 

"Your friend will probably come, with the way we're waiting for her and Trent.."

I look around the empty parking lot, was this a camera prank?

What the hell were these two doing anyway?

Speaking of the minx, she finally appears a good ten minutes later. I could've sworn if she didnt have a deep skin tone, she'd probably be as red as a tomato. Because, honey she looked flustered.

I raise my brows at her- disheveled appearance, instinctively giving Jude a knowing look.

Though, my look of scrutiny stops when I realize those two were onto some- freaky shit. Seems like Jude realizes at the same time, because, he too looks away from me.

"I'm leaving.." He quickly blurts, walking away without looking back. I watch his figure disappear, snapped out of my trance when Amira taps me.

"What the fuck? What did you two do?!" I ask, laughing loudly. Sure, I was annoyed that I had to wait for her, but my best friend's happiness was more important.

"Get in the car! I've got to tell you every single detail.."

"What's it called again?" I turn to Amira, asking her about the name of the venue we're supposed to go to.

I had been in London for a couple of days now. From family dinners to meeting up with high school classmates, all of it kept me busy. Everything had been very fun and memorable so far.

Last night, England played their match against Italy for the EURO qualifiers. I couldn't lie, the 3-1 win for England was very satisfying, especially when watching live from Wembley Stadium.

Right now, Amira and I are in the car. Getting driven to the restaurant or bar - Trent had invited us to. A small gathering to close off international break, if you could call it that.

Small or big party, Amira and I had to look our best. For obvious reasons, I am wearing the black mini-dress I had tried on in Amira's office.

"Novikov Restaurant & Bar.." She mutters, touching her lipgloss up while looking at her phone camera.

"You ever been?" I ask, equally fidgety with my appearance.

"Yes, nice place, but we'll probably go clubbing after."

I raise my eyebrows at her, sighing, before leaning against her shoulder.

"Will you keep me from getting drunk?"

"Can't save you, darling.."

Yeah, y/n is an absolutely a goner. Everyone within meters of her is aware of it, though to her, her limit has not even been reached yet.

She throws her head back as she downs another shot of- she doesn't even know. She took and gulped down anything that was handed to her by her best friend.

All she knows is- it burns in the back of her throat- like a fucking bitch. She doesn't even stop to think about why she's doing it, all she's been wanting to do, is take her mind off work and university. The opportunity was presented to her in a shot glass, and who would refuse?

A smart, responsible person, probably...

"Go dance with him.." y/n mutters, wiping the spilled and dribbling alcohol off her chin. Eagerly pushing her friend in Trent's direction.

The football player had invited the both of them for a reason, and to drunk y/n this was a good opportunity to play Cupido.

"No! I want to dance with you." Her friend replies, grabbing y/n's wrist.

"Go! You can dance with me anytime, go now!" She ushers, pushing Amira away with all the strength in her arms.

She giggles to herself when she notices Trent grab Amira's hand, feeling like her mission was partially accomplished.

Though, her happiness is short-lived when she curses herself. Her feet were practically going numb due to the stilettos her stylist bestie had forced her to wear.

To forget the uncomfortable feeling, she decided to get another drink. She clutches onto her handbag, starting to walk- or stumble towards the bartender.

She knew how to have fun on her own, there was no problem in that regard.

"Oh, fuck- sorry.." She slurs, looking up when her forehead collides with a hard chest. She makes immediate eye contact with a completely sober Jude, he raises a questioning brow, taking her disheveled appearance in.

"I take it back.." She loudly says, pushing past him to get to the bar. Loud music drums into her ears, causing her senses to tingle.

She's about to order a drink, but before she has the opportunity to speak, she's rudely interrupted by someone.

"A whisky neat, for the beauty here.." Someone says, she turns her head in a flash. Fucking pissed, a man dared to speak for her and over her.

It's a young man, around her age- slightly older judging from his appearance. His brown hair is slicked back with an estimated ten kilograms of hairgel, along with the tackiest combination of a white button-down and- skinny jeans.

"No, thank you!" y/n replies waving her hand and shouting over the loud music. She blinks a multitude of times, trying to clear her vision and mind.

"What'd ya mean, luv? Not suited to your taste?"

"I'm not interested.." She says, turning away from him and ordering her own drink. Fidgeting with the clasp of her bag and pulling bills out of her wallet.

"Oh, come on. Can't you see how much of a catch I am?" the douchebag insists, pointing up and down his frame.

She rolls her eyes at the words. This time her eyes might stay there permanently because the stranger continues repeating the corniest of words.

"No, thank you.." She repeats, taking a huge gulp of her pink Cosmo, looking away, and continuing to ignore him.

Should she start barking like a rabid dog to scare him off?

"Come on, babygirl... Would it hurt to smile for me?”

She almost chokes on her drink at the words. Eyes hazy and unfocused, one thing she's sure of- this man is about to get a taste of her leather handbag.

"Does it look like I'm interested?!" Her voice isn't loud, though her tone is sharp and full of irritation. She takes a step back, giving him the most repulsed look.

"I like my women feisty and alluring like you.." The guys persist, placing a nasty hand on her hip, a little too close to her backside.

"Get your filthy hand off me.." She demands, the grip on her glass tightening. Her brows furrow and her mood drops tremendously fast.

"Your words are sharp, but your body seems to be enjoying this. Let loose for me, sweetheart. Won’t ya?” His breath reeks of the most pungent alcohol she’s ever smelled, and his hand keeps inching closer to her bottom.

'Oh, fuck no' she thinks, placing the glass on the bar table. Readjusting her grip on her bag.

"Can you fuckin' let go of her?" She hears a loud voice say, Brum accent thick, but it's already too late.

She moves her handbag behind her, creating a good distance for maximum impact, before using all her force to hit the guy square in the face. The contact makes a loud noise, and surprisingly enough, it's detectable over the insanely loud music.

The guy immediately retreats, stumbling a couple steps back in shock. He cradles his head, screams of agony leaving his disgustingly filthy mouth.

"I said no- didn't I? Are you fucking deaf?!" She curses, temperature rising as she breathes in harshly. She can't even register what's happening- but he deserved it and had it coming.

"Let’s go..” A familiar voice exclaims, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her towards the restroom. He pulls her into the unisex section, locking the door behind them.

She struggles against him, her heels tripping and scratching against the floor. The now blood-stained handbag slips out of her hand, dropping to the floor.

"Let me go! You fucking creep! I swear, I'll bite it off!" She shouts, eyes shut tightly, as she hits his rock-hard chest multiple times. Hand squeezed up in a tight fist as she keeps trying to get out of his hold.

"y/n!" He shouts, trying to get her to look at him. He doesn't know the full story of what happened. All he saw was the guy touching her, putting his hands on her, and he was sent flying with a blow to the face.

Jude is impressed, though that's not his main thought or concern when y/n is fighting him as if he's the guy who was bothering her.

She’s drunk, but still recognizes his voice. The way he pronounces her name, not with venom and hatred per usual. No, instead, with the upmost panic and concern. He wants to snap her out of it, back to reality, back to him.

Her eyes snap open, arms held tightly by Jude. His fingers digging into her skin. Both of his hands keeping her up and steady.

"Jude?" She mumbles, looking up at him with the widest eyes imaginable. Her mascara running down her hot and sweaty face. Her favorite lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth.

"It's me, you're good." He replies, noticing the faraway look in her eyes. His voice softens, lowering to a gentle decibel. Unlike the booming and ear-deafening music and conversations outside of the enclosed space they're in.

"Sit.." he gestures, pointing to the restroom countertop. She looks up, blinking repeatedly, she's not thinking of sitting when her mind and thoughts are still hazy and in fight or flight mode.

"Can I lift you up?" Jude suddenly asks, his hands leaving her arms. It sends a surge of extra adrenaline through her body, but she nods absentmindedly, looking away.

Jude takes a deep breath, hands reaching to the back of her thighs. He lifts her up easily, placing her on the countertop. His biceps flex under his sleeves, a frustrated noise leaving his lips.

y/n sniffles, the shock of it all sobering her up a bit. She raises her head, looking up at him. He stands in front of her, practically in between her legs.

He looks away, grabbing a paper towel from the roll and handing it to her.

"Here, wipe your- nose.." He mumbles, watching her. He walks away and grabs her bag off the floor, meticulously wiping the blood away with a dampened paper towel.

"Fucking bastard.." Jude mutters underneath his breath, venom on the tip of his tongue, as anger rushes through his veins. Though, y/n had practically handled it all on her own. Even in her drunk- mess of a state, she’d managed to break the lowlife’s nose and his ego.

The only thing that kept him from running out and breaking the bastard’s limb was the image of him already suffering and withering on the ground. Bloody, broken nose making him look so pathetic and disgusting, like the person he genuinely is.

y/n wipes her nose, eyes wet and irritated. The pounding in her head seems to increase as she struggles to hold her tears back. Although, she’d kept sort of calm in the moment, her heart was hammering in her chest. She could stand up for herself, that was no problem. It was the fact that she wasn’t fully coherent, which made her feel absolute terror in the moment.

All of the mixed emotions and alcohol make the nauseating feeling in her chest and stomach worse. Her eyes flutter for a moment, and she gags, clamping her hand over her mouth.

The noise alerts Jude, it takes him out of his murderous and aggressive thoughts. He looks up, immediately holding his hands out to her.

"Are you going to be sick?" He asks, eyebrows raised. She nods, hand still clasped around her mouth. Her mouth salivates, an imminent sign of needing to puke. It prompts Jude to help her down the countertop, his hands on both of her sides.

When her feet hit the floor, she practically leaps over to the toilet, retching and heaving over the toilet bowl. A warm hand is placed on her nape and forehead, trying to put pressure on those parts to stabilize her.

A choked sob leaves her dry lips, sweat beginning to glisten on her forehead. There was nothing she hated more than throwing up, the way it made her feel weak and out of control was an absolute nightmare to her.

"It's alright.." She hears, the soft whisper reaching her thumping ears. She takes a breath, squeezing her eyes tightly before heaving again. Her body shakes as all fluids leave her stomach, and the pungent smell of stomach acid makes her condition even worse.

It's all a blur, like a foggy fever dream. The only thing she can register are the sweet words reaching her burning ears. Full of reassurance and gentleness while she felt like she was losing her mind in the moment.

I hold back a gasp as my eyes land on the photo on my Instagram feed. I immediately sit up from my chair. My jaw slacks open as I read the caption.

"Jude Bellingham and alleged girlfriend spotted getting cozy after Australia friendly."

"The 20-year-old Madrid star seemed pretty happy to see his name and number on her shirt. The moment was captured by attendees, who provided us with pictures of the athlete's parents and his alleged lover having a seemingly very nice conversation. It seems like Mrs. and Mr. Bellingham approve."

"The identity of the young woman hasn't been revealed or confirmed as of yet. With some speculation about her father having close ties to Real Madrid CF."

I resist the urge to cry my eyes out at the association and immediately stand up from my desk. Practically skipping steps when running down the stairs, almost running into a group of fellow staff members.

My eyes dart around the cafeteria to spot the douche I needed to find. I make a beeline towards him as I watch him interact with the other players.

"I'm sorry, guys. I need him for a quick moment."

I say not waiting for anyone to answer. I grab onto Jude's upper arm and drag him out of the cafeteria. I hear some teasing whistles behind us, but I ignore them as I pull him into one of the small meditation rooms.

"What are you even doing-" he begins, but I cut him off as I shove my phone into his face. Showing him the photos and the caption which will probably keep me up tonight.

"What the fuck is this, huh?" I ask, raising my brows. Analyzing his facial expression as I fold my arms defensively.

I expect him to frown, get angry, get upset, but instead-

He fucking smirks, an amused chuckle leaving his lips. He snatches my phone, fingers tapping to read the comments on the post.

"Really? Is this a laughing matter to you?" I exclaim, ready to have a mental breakdown, while he just continues scrolling through the comments, starting to read them out loud.

"Not his usual type."

"He can do better."

I grunt, snatching my phone out of his hands, annoyed.

"I can play this game too, idiot!" I say, scrolling through the comments as well.

"He must be crazy, she's too pretty for him." I begin, passive aggressively reading positive comments about myself. I look up at him, watching him roll his eyes as he shoves his hands in his pocket.

"Well? What are you going to do about it?" I say, turning my phone off.

"What can I do about it?"

"This is your fault? If you weren't annoying me with your stupid antics, they wouldn't have made these speculations."

"You engaged in my 'stupid antics'!"

"Ugh- just send a cease and desist letter or something!"

"It's an Instagram gossip page, not a damn newspaper!"

I huff in annoyance, pacing around the small room.

"Can't you like- deny rumors?"

"I'm a football player, not a reality TV personality! They speculate about everything in my life already. Why would I deny them this time around?"

"Is that a question you really want an answer to?"

"Come on! What bad does it do you to be tied to me? Only good if you ask me.." He shrugs, and I don't miss the smirk on his face.

"Never mind, I'll ask my dad to handle it!" I say, walking past him to push the door open. I close my eyes in annoyance when it doesn't budge.

"You need to pull.." I hear Jude speak, the smile on his face practically audible from behind me.

"Fuck off.." I mutter seething in anger, pushing the door open and leaving him behind in the meditation room.

[vidavalor]

I've had to disconnect from my dash because of all the negativity; I honestly do not get why people are acting like a semblance of justice+a movie is the worst thing in the world?

I'm mourning for the full six-episode season we lost because ng couldn't pass the utmost basic sub-zero bar for not acting like scum and of course I wish amazon had kicked him out and then sprung for it anyway (and honestly, as long as you're blaming the right person, I think it's fine to feel upset? We deserved better, the cast and crew deserved, Terry deserved better, and this one guy ruins it for everyone because the bar was buried six feet deep beneath the ground and he still managed to go lower, and that does suck, and it is miserable and unfair, so take a moment if you need it 🤷‍♀️) but let's face it, we got off lucky. Arguably, considering this was a standalone novel from the nineties, that then got made, in one of the best book adaptations I've ever seen, into a limited standalone tv miniseries (and, again, emphasising the standalone here, so even if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, we'll still always have S1 and the book; people have been ignoring the Jurassic Park sequels for nearly three decades), and then got a surprise sequel, we were pretty lucky the whole way through.

And regarding the whole what if it's bad thing, I was always going to be worried: I was anxious long before this shit went down, and I was anxious before S2 and even S1, as well. It's not like we ever had any guarantee it was going to be good beforehand either, and at this point, knowing what we do now, I'm not at all sure I'd have trusted ng to write this anyways. So while, yeah sure, I'm maybe a little more anxious now, I trust Michael and David with these characters and I trust Rob and Rhianna with Terry's legacy and story and that they wouldn't have fought so hard for this ending unless they planned to keep fighting and thought they could pull it off. Isn't the problem with this kind of thing normally that what happnes is the creator who cares deeply about the work gets pulled in favour of someone out-of-touch who cares not a jot about the story and needs to leave their own grubby fingerprints all over it? More the other way around here, no?

Anyway, what I also wanted to say was that I really appreciated your 'think of it as the final two episodes of season two' (and all your takes on this situation so far, very level-headed and optimistic, thank you). I mean, you're right, and it's hardly wildly out-there for a series to finish on a feature-length special, and although the filler material in S2 and the compression of S3 maybe means it doesn't exactly resemble what the second book would have been, it was only ever meant to be two books. (Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed S2 and was very glad to get it, even though I am a book/S1 fan and also had the most fun in that time fandom pre/post/around the time of the S1 release, but why does it exist? Ego? You can't tell me you couldn't have fit the important parts of S2 into one season with the S3 plotline.)

Basically, I'm grieving the could-have-beens (imagine if he'd been exposed way earlier and the TP estate had had control of this whole production from the very start!) and I'm a little worried that that hurt'll stick around no matter how good S3 is - which I need to fix, because that's more power over my favourite show and what it means to me that I want to give anyone, let alone someone like that - but at the end of day, I do think it definitely can be done with what we have, and I'm choosing to be hopeful it'll be done well, because, well, why wouldn't I?

(I will say this hasn't been great for my faith in humanity, because I really want to believe not all men are shit and some of them are making it very difficult right now, but that's an entirely different problem and so far believing most people are mostly good has always prevailed in the end so. y'know. we'll get there. might reread discworld, that's always good for that.)

Sorry for venting all this at you! I just kinda felt the need to write it all down once to get it off my chest... have a snack on me? I'm partial to cherry tomatoes, green melon and mandarines at the moment (I stop eating salads in winter, which means I default to eating even more fruit) but I can also offer homemade baked goodies fresh from this morning? 🥧

Hi there. 💕 You are welcome to vent away & thank you for the delicious-sounding snacks and kind words. I'm glad my posts on the movie boosted your spirits about it. I agree with and can relate to almost everything that you said here so assume that anything that I don't address just has a 'yes, absolutely' nod happening. 🙂‍↕️

The one thing I want to touch on here is S2 and this idea of it being "filler" that you mentioned that I think might not be quite accurate. I think you (and anyone else who reads this) might feel more enthused about the idea of a good ending in 90 minutes after reading this so hopefully this'll be another way that I can help?

On why S2 is really the whole story and actually had a lot more going on in every way than S1...

Ok, I'm going to explain something that drives writers like myself bonkers 😂 and that is how some readers or viewers of fictional stories mix up plot and story.

Nothing grinds our gears than reading things like "filler" and "unnecessary subplots" because, while everyone is within their rights to have an opinion on written works, 95% of the time, the person who says phrases like this isn't talking about the quality of the work but of its very existence. They're saying "why did we have to read/watch this? it didn't connect to anything" and that's where they are very, very, very... argh, just tell them, Crowley...

...thank you, dear. Right, so, why is it wrong?

Because what many people who don't write don't understand about subplots and more character-driven story arcs is that the writers sat down and decided to do that stuff for very, very specific story reasons. Readers and viewers mistake plot for story. Plot only exists in service of story and, so, all plots exist for a purpose in the story. They're all relevant. In fact, the stuff people usually label as "filler" in a story is really exactly where they should be looking to figure out what the story is saying. If you're big mad about all this time you spent with Maggie and Nina in S2, I'd say you might not still understand what S2 was about because you won't understand Aziraphale's story without understanding both Maggie and Nina's struggles in S2, for example.

A story is the whole, overall thing. It's the meanings, themes, and messages in the work. It's what's being said. It's the ideas being put forth by the piece. It's what it's about. It's different from plot, which is just the stuff the writers are making the characters do or not do in order to tell the story that they are looking to tell. Story is the art; plot is a tool used to make that art. Fiction writers can come at their story from almost anywhere to convey what it is that they are trying to say so there is meaning in the fact that they are choosing to tell their stories the way that they are telling them. They came up with these ideas for reasons.

When you dismiss stuff as filler, you're saying that it's lesser than more in-your-face and bigger plots (when, often, it's very much not), and you're telling a writer how they should have written their own story-- most of the time, without even fully seeing the ending of that story or giving any consideration to why it is that the writer wanted you to read or watch the stuff you're saying wasn't necessary. I'm not arguing that every story is perfect but you aren't getting anywhere near close to being able to evaluate a story if you're not willing to dive into what you were given and consider why it was that you were given those things and what they might mean.

Until the main question that you're asking about every single aspect of a story is "what is this saying?", you're not really fully engaging with a work. You won't get there by dismissing what the artists are telling you is important.

The secret sauce to interpreting fiction are subplots, actually. They exist to help highlight the themes of the main story, often in a slightly more direct way. If you want to understand Good Omens, starting with Ineffable Bureaucracy is actually one of the best ways to get at the core of the themes of the story. It's far from wasted time in the story.

There's actually a funny nod to the importance of subplots in 1941 when Aziraphale references Sophocles, the playwright who basically created the concept of the supporting character whose story mirrors and parallels the main character(s). The mention of Sophocles shows up in S2, the season that brings Gabriel more fully into his purpose as exactly that.

The reason why S2's plot is centered around the honestly pretty easily solvable mystery as to what's happened to Gabriel is because Gabriel, from the get-go, has been the entire story distilled down.

If you follow nothing but Ineffable Bureaucracy in Good Omens, you're going to be closer to getting what it's about and where it's going and what its end game is than you are if you are dismissing it as wasted time when we only have few episodes left. If you haven't yet seen the secret wisdom in Jim-- not to mention understand that Jim and Gabriel are the same person-- then you're probably wigging out more about the movie.

You likely think that S2 was wasted on stuff like Gabriel, or Maggie and Nina's romance, when they should have been getting to Armageddon and The Second Coming already!

You haven't yet noticed that Armageddon has more than one meaning in the series.

It's not always the literal destruction of Earth but also a person's own life crisis. We are all worlds of our own and those worlds can be put at risk if we don't let others in and take care of ourselves and those around us.

When you realize this, you can start to see that S1 goes hard with a freight train of plot all over the place that is related to Armageddon in a more Biblical, apocalyptic sense while it establishes its universe for us but that, once we know how it all works, we can get something like S2... a time where we can step back and start using Armageddon in the more figurative way that the story is also presenting it.

We need to because the story isn't about Heaven or Hell-- it's about being a person. S2 is emphasizing the deeper aspects of the themes and rolling that out at a pace more in line with a person having a few days of inner crisis. When you see that Aziraphale's crisis is the point then you can see how S1 can be about The Four Horsepeople riding to the end of the world and S2 can show War (inner conflict), Pollution (mental health issues), and Famine (symptoms of the other two; lack of food and pleasure and connection; self-starvation and self-denial) as a mental health crisis.

The point is that if you're thinking these characters need to come together to overthrow Heaven and Hell and get to the South Downs Cottage and there's no time slajdflkfwjlkejlje!?!?, then you aren't realizing that not every revolution involves guns and bombs.

People all over the world can start a love train that's far more effective. You might think a subplot about The Hellhound and The Ginger Cat learning to play nice and that they have a fuckton in common and should maybe bury the hatchet and just become eternal bffs already is filler but Crowley and Gabriel aligning is set up for the end game. It's strength in numbers and finding peace and family. They can't overthrow Heaven/Hell without help and Gabriel is the Supreme Archangel. They literally will never have a South Downs Cottage ending without a plot that helped Crowley and Aziraphale see that Gabriel and Beez are on their side.

This is the revolution in Good Omens:

It will take all the characters coming together to overthrow Heaven/Hell and set up something new for us to get a happy ending and we absolutely will. S2 is Gabriel-centric because Gabriel is the key to all of the characters getting a peaceful ending and because he's a split-directly-down-the-middle mirror of both Crowley and Aziraphale. In a season that is more about Aziraphale's inner Armageddon than about an external threat, Gabriel is vital to telling that story. The plot of S2 is every bit as important to the story as S1. I'd argue that it's even more important because takes the time to go at the themes in a slower, deeper way. It needs to because it's a story of a fall that sets up for a story in S3 of a recovery from one.

Good Omens is the absolute perfect combination of a show that is both very, very detail-oriented and full of depth while also being, secretly, an incredibly simple story. I do not mean simple in a negative way but in a chef's kiss sort of way. Simple in a tight and elegant sort of way. This is something that I think some people might not see when they're theorizing but it's something to keep in mind ahead of the movie. Not just because the movie is shorter-- this would have been relevant if we were having a longer S3, too.

Good Omens has a very engaged fan base that looks for the details, yes. *raises hand* I'm one of them lol. And there will be plenty to pour over in the movie, but... the big thing to keep in mind is that your theory needs to be something that is simple, that can be explained in under a handful of scenes, tops, and that is focused on where Aziraphale's story arc is going above anything and everything else.

If you're beginning with time loops and the birth of a new antichrist baby, I'm telling you from ages of experience reading and writing stories, you're going to be way off. If you are over here composing theories of the story that you are arguing are correct and this theory involves, idk... *makes something up* Crowley is really Elvis and Elvis is really The Bentley and when a rainbow hits Whickber Street at exactly 4 minutes into the new season, Satan will be revealed to really be Jesus, I think maybe you might be missing the point of the details that the show has given already. Like the plot, these details exist to reinforce the themes of the story. Story beats everything else-- it's what this is all about.

And what Good Omens is about? Is best summed up by Michael Sheen, in this single sentence that I really, really agree with and have paraphrased more than once in posts:

Good Omens is about the business of living. It's about the human experience, which is the experience of being a person. Everything related to Heaven and Hell and good and evil and Armageddon and supernatural things is plot that only exists to highlight a story about the complexities of being a person.

The supernatural is human and the human is supernatural.

That is what Good Omens is about.

While Crowley and Aziraphale are built as two halves of a whole and are both main characters, Aziraphale is the main character from a technical, story perspective, because he is the character whose story arc is driving both the plot and story forward. He's heading for a happy ending with Crowley in the South Downs by the end of the film. If you're making theories, start with what kind of plot would truly get him there and still fit with all of the themes of the story.

This 'it's about being a person' business is why if you look at S2 as filler and not as a season that is exploring the continuing themes on a deeper level, you're still worried about things like there being no time in a movie to show the story of a new antichrist kid being born or how they're going to fit the whole Second Coming into the movie. You don't yet see that Aziraphale parallels Adam and that being an antichrist is basically just being a person and that Aziraphale is presently the antichrist in the story. There is no antichrist child yet to be born. They won't be cutting it because it's not the story.

Armageddon since S2 has been Aziraphale's own personal one and the story from the end of S2 on is now how, if all the other characters can't come together to help him, it could also trigger Armageddon of the S1, Earth-destroying kind. It's tying a more literal Armageddon into a more figurative one. Because this story is about being a person so Armageddon is just metaphorical for going through a mental health crisis and shutting people out.

This story's themes include that every person matters and we all have to let others in and look out for one another. That there's strength in numbers. That found family and adopted family is as much family as biological family-- often, even more so. That labelling and categorizing people is bullshit and you should always open the cover and read the first sentences of people and help people whose stories begin with the same letters find one another. That it might be surprising who has things in common. It's about all of Heaven and Hell versus all of humanity, in the sense that ideas of being a perfect angel or being seen as an evil demon are concepts felt by human beings that get in the way of peace and healthy, happy living, but that fighting them is a common, human struggle, regardless of from where you come.

If you are too focused on the religious plot being the center of the film, you haven't yet seen the meaning of why the end of S1 was an eleven year old kid saving the world by telling off the bio-dad that was never there for him. You might be one of the people who thought this a silly, anti-climatic ending to that story, and don't yet realize that this is the entire story in a nutshell.

Adam can only reject Satan and keep the darkness at bay because he is surrounded-- here, literally-- by a family that supports him. He has good people for parents and was lucky enough to grow up with resources that all kids in this world should have. He has an absolutely terrific group of friends. He has this witch lady and her boyfriend and these two gay uncles that just showed up out of nowhere 😂 and his human incarnate self has what it needs to make it through this crisis, in this moment, even if he'll probably have others throughout his life, just like all of us. He's not evil incarnate and he doesn't have to be perfect-- he's just a person.

Aziraphale tells Adam this but struggles to see himself in the same way. That's what S2 is about.

S2 is about that other kid who, like Adam, breaks the season down into a single line of dialogue, David Tennant's apparent favorite from the season:

Jemimah knows who she is and she is happy to claim ownership over her art and contributions to the world. She's living her life with excitement and enthusiasm in a way that gets more complicated as we become traumatized adults. Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this. They have been making a life together on Earth for thousands of years and each struggle, in their own ways, to truly accept that they are people who are allowed to have a life because they struggle to accept that they are people, just like everyone else.

Their story is about getting to a better place with that. That's really all Good Omens fundamentally is. That's why their ending is going to be to go live in a little cottage together that isn't a business that covers up an angelic embassy that covers up a secret love den. It's just their house-- theirs together for the life they're going to live openly together.

If you want some peace with the film, I'd advise throwing over your theories about The Second Coming and Armageddon needing to happen and antichrist kids and how Jesus fits into everything. Jesus in Good Omens is Crowley romancing Aziraphale at the crucifixion and Aziraphale using what Jesus said to Crowley to reject temptation as invitation to fuck him. I thought Jesus in a single scene or less was the most likely thing for S3 and the same holds for the movie. It's not the story. The only time The Second Coming is mentioned in S2 is by the villain and, to get there, Earth would have to first be destroyed. It won't be.

If the story is about being a messy human walking the Earth and we're in the end game now, then the story is about Aziraphale and only Aziraphale. Everything-- everything-- will be in service of Aziraphale's story arc. We already had just a few episodes with S3 and we now have even less time but the way this is going is still the same. The story is Aziraphale's fall and the other characters coming together to challenge Heaven to keep Aziraphale from eternity in Hell. That's how Armageddon is stopped this time around-- overthrowing Heaven with Aziraphale's fate as the motivation to take on The Metatron. It's nothing to do with Jesus. It's everything to do with Aziraphale.

When you see that, you can see how feasible that is in 90 minutes, with plenty of time for things like 1941, Part 3 and other flashbacks.

I think, when all is said and done, you might wind up appreciating S2 more after the film but you can get there already if you start looking at it less as meaningless fluff and start asking why it is that we were shown this story, in this way, and what that can tell us about the story we're watching.

[felassan]

Random question. I read that 'Pelledia' was originally considered as a name for Thedas before it was finalised. Is there any mention of why they considered it, like is it supposed to mean anything? I'm writing some fanfiction and considering using it as a call back but I am assuming they just thought it sounded nice? Any help is appreciated :) Also apologies if you aren't accepting Asks atm, I'm new to tumblr so admittedly I don't know the etiquette!

hello! ◕‿◕ welcome to tumblr and no worries at all, we have a toggle where we can set 'let people ask questions' to on/off and mine as u can see is currently on ^^ [here] is a post which contains a summary of some interesting factoids and insights pertaining to the development of Dragon Age from the book Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development, it briefly mentions the Pelledia factoid. the full mention of this factoid from the book itself (in case the context/quote helps) reads:

"The name for the Dragon Age setting came about another way. “Thedas” was shorthand for “the Dragon Age setting” on the forums and internally, and the design team fully intended to name the continent something else in the final release. James [Ohlen] initially floated the name “Pelledia”. But the team figured there was no rush. “Thedas” would work well enough temporarily. Enter David Gaider’s first rule of naming: if a temp name has been around long enough and is not actively terrible or offensive, after six months, people won’t be able to think of it by any other name. That’s what happened with Thedas. The team had a big meeting to try and come up with a better name for the continent. But in the end, nothing sounded right except Thedas."

And yes!! there is a bit more info on this!! David Gaider did some dev commentary over a playthrough of Dragon Age on a Twitch stream a few years ago and in that commentary was a lot of different bits of insights and information. I think the original videos aren't available to watch anymore unfortunately, but at that time I took notes on them all and what was said (the following quote isn't a direct quote/word-to-word transcript, but it is notes on what was said):

"One of the original names for the setting, Peldia, was pronounced Pel-DEE-ah. This name came from a homebrewed world James Ohlen had made. He was keen to call it this, but David Gaider wasn’t keen on it and so in every document after that first one, he just referred to the setting as “TDAS” (The Dragon Age Setting) instead. When they spoke about the lore on the BioWare forums after the game was announced, they would often refer to it as “The Dragon Age Setting”. Someone on there abbreviated this to “Thedas” and the devs started using it. About three quarters of the way in they were like “Can we please just give this realm a name”, and at this point James was gone. They had a list of other names but nobody really liked any of them, and they’d been calling it Thedas for so long. Eventually, Sheryl Chee suggested “Can we just call it Thedas?” and it stuck."

as you can see in this I mis-spelled "Pelledia", and that "Pelledia" was the name of a homebrewed world that James had created himself at some point. :) that quote is from [this post here], and [here] is the link to the first post in that series, which itself contains the links to all of them.

(you might also be interested in this article and the maps and early worldbuilding of Thedas info that it contains. for example, who were/or were going to be the "Shaelan" race and the "Olvenene" race?? what was the apparent forest city of "FaeFran" etc?? :D there's also "far-away Noathen", some place where the first iteration of the DA themepark ride's story blurb mentions. hh, just in case that's of interest or you need more names to make callbacks with or something)

I hope this helps and best of luck with ur fanfic. ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

[mrsstruggle]

The Beast of War - Chapter 1 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

This is the second part of the Shadow Wolf Series. Read The Lost Child First if you haven't!

Series Summary: In the aftermath of discovering her true identity and reuniting with her long-lost family, Y/N Stilinski finds herself adjusting to a new chapter of her life in Beacon Hills. With her brother and his friends in their senior year at High School, the town faces a fresh new threat. Y/N must navigate the complexities of her new life while confronting the looming threat that threatens to hurt her and the people she loves.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Series Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Stiles Stilinski x Malia Tate (for now), Steve Rodgers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff

Words: 4.5k

Note: I am aware this is late! Please don't hate me!

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

Masterlist

The Beast of War Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

---

“Are you going to keep secretly writing notes about me or ask me that question you’ve been too afraid to ask?” Y/N questions, her eyes never leaving the computer where she is tying in the new patient information. She is currently six hours into her ten-hour shift.

The boy sitting on the exam table freezes. His thumbs stop typing in his notes app as he looks at Y/N in surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Mhm, sure. This is the fifth time you’ve been in this week, but you always seem to leave with nothing wrong. You either have hypochondria or you’ve kept coming back until I was your nurse.”

“Maybe the previous nurses and doctors didn’t do a good job and sent me home without properly helping me.” He picks at the bottom of his shirt in a nervous habit.

“The first time you came in was for pink eye, which has been noted that you didn’t have that. The second time was for a rash on your arm that you didn’t have.” Y/N says, looking over his previous visit notes, “The third time was a bump on your knee that turned out to be your kneecap. The fourth time was for a broken wrist that turned out to be broken or even sprained. Now you’re here due to flu-like symptoms, but your vitals are all good and there is currently no indication of you being sick.”

He forces out a fake cough, “Are you sure about that?”

Y/N turns to look at him, “I’m sure. You do know this is an emergency room, right? We have actual patients that need help, and we are short staffed. We don’t need some kid coming in trying to meet the Stark girl to get a good photo for his Instagram or whatever.”

“First of all, I’m not a kid—we’re the same age. Second, this isn’t for my Instagram, this is for my criminology class.” He says, dropping his act. He knew there was no point in tripling down on his lies.

“Well, your parents must have a lot of money or some really good insurance for you to be able to show up here five different times.”

“Something like that.”

Y/N looks him up and down, contemplating what she should do. She should just send him home, but she’s worried he will keep showing up until he gets what he wants. “The school year just started, why do you need to speak with me for your criminology class now?”

“Our first assignment is to do a paper on a famous crime. What’s more famous than the kidnapping of Tony Stark’s daughter?”

“I can think of several.” Y/N lets out a sigh, turning her body to fully face him, “You get five questions. If I don’t want to answer one, then it’s still going to count as one of your questions. After that, you have to leave and also promise not to come back here unless you have an actual emergency.”

He smiles in victory, turning his phone back on, “Do you mind if I record this so I can type out your answers later?”

“Sure.”

He opens the Voice Memos app on his phone, hits the record button, and holds it up between Y/N and himself. “Okay, first question, I am aware that the Avengers are currently relocating to a little outside of Beacon Hills, but have you been back to the other Avengers compound or the place you lived while with them?”

“No, I have not been back.”

He opens his mouth to ask her to elaborate but decides against it in case she counts that as a question. “Second question, what was your initial reaction when you discovered the truth?”

Y/N pauses as she thinks of an answer. For safety reasons, when they announced who she was, they changed the story of how it happened. Instead of telling the public she was re-kidnapped by Hydra, they told them about Bucky discovering the photo of her in Derek’s auto shop. It’s part of the reason some people like to show up there.

To the public’s knowledge, Hydra kidnapped her in hopes of raising her to be their soldier before she was able to escape on her own when they left her unattended outside. She was then found by a friend of Talia Stilinski and adopted by the Stilinski’s. To the public’s knowledge, Pepper didn’t hand her over to Hydra, she was never experimented on, she has no powers, and she didn’t know about the Avengers because she was too young—not because her memories were blocked.

“Mostly confusion. It’s not every day that someone shows up and claims to be your other family.  Now I’m just waiting for my biological family to do the same thing.” Y/N jokes.

“Third question, I know thanks to photos online that you spend some time with your brother, Peter, but have you spent any time with your sister, Morgan?”

Y/N debates on whether she wants to answer the question or not. The answer is no, she hasn’t spent any time with her sister, nor has she met her. She has nothing against Morgan, and she doesn’t blame her for Pepper’s actions, but she’s not sure if Morgan feels the same way. According to Peter, she is close with her mother, and her relationship with Tony is strained due to his shortcomings as a father to her.

Y/N is unsure if Morgan blames her for those shortcomings. It’s because of Tony’s obsession with finding her that caused him to neglect to be a good father for Morgan. It’s because of his resentment and anger toward Pepper’s nonchalance at Y/N being gone and her happiness toward the new baby that caused him to leave Pepper in the first place. It’s because of his grief of losing her that caused him to be unable to hold her until she was three years old.

It wasn’t until Morgan became a teenager did Tony start to step up as her father. He still isn’t perfect, and he can never make up for her younger years, but he is a lot better. Y/N adds Tony and Peter moving to Beacon Hills as another reason for Morgan to be justified to hate her.

Y/N knows that if Derek or Peter knew her thoughts about Morgan, they would tell her that she can’t blame herself for Tony’s mistakes. The choices Tony made were his own, not hers. Right now, she’s told Peter and Tony that the decision to meet, form a relationship, or anything is fully up to Morgan. She doesn’t want to cause any upheaval in Morgan’s life by inserting herself into it. If Morgan wants Y/N in her life, then she will be. If she doesn’t want anything to do with her, that’s okay. If she wants to meet her once and then never again, Y/N will do that too.

She does however know—thanks to Peter—that Morgan has decided that she prefers a private life away from the spotlight. While Peter attends all charity and public events in the Stark name, Morgan likes to stay home away from the crowds and paparazzi. She even keeps away from social media, so she doesn’t see anything about herself or her family.

“Um, I’m going to pass on that question. Morgan is a minor and prefers to stay out of the press. I don’t feel comfortable talking about whatever relationship I may or may not have with her. That’s private and it will stay that way.” Y/N answers. ��You have two questions left.”

The guy huffs in frustration, “Fine. Fourth question, what are your thoughts on the theories and videos people were making after it was first brought to the public’s attention that you’re Y/N Stark?”

“I think the best word to describe I how felt, and still feel, about the things people were saying is disappointment. I’m disappointed in how people were, and still are, talking about my family. Honestly, I don’t really care what people say about me,” That’s a lie but she isn’t going to correct herself, “but I am disappointed in the way people talked about my family and the people I love.”

He nods his head in understanding, “Okay, last question, do you plan on changing your name back to Stark?”

No, she doesn’t. To be honest, it’s not even a thought that has crossed her mind. Scott asked her about it once when he saw her driver’s license and her only thought was that she hopes Derek proposes before Tony asks so she has an excuse that won’t hurt his feelings.

“Maybe, I guess we’ll see,” Y/N says instead. “Now, you can be on your way, and I’ll make sure to let the front desk know I refuse to see you if you come back with anything less than a life-threatening injury. Hopefully, that will keep you away and make you reconsider faking injuries and illnesses, and taking a room away from someone who actually needs it.”

He hits the stop button before turning off his phone and thanking her for answering his questions. He follows her out of the room and rushes out of the building to start working on his paper.

“What’s that about?” Melissa asks, watching the boy run out of the hospital.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sighs, “Just another person who wanted to interview me. I humored him for a few questions before I told him to not come back unless he’s dying.” She hands Melissa the boy’s file that’s in her hand. “Can you put a note in his file to let the others know I won’t see him if he comes back unless necessary?”

“That’s like the fourth one this month,” Melissa laughs in disbelief.

“What can I say, I’m famous,” Y/N winks at her. She and Melissa both know how much she hates the amount of attention she’s gotten since Kate exposed her. At one point in her life, she dreamed of being a star that everyone loved and was extremely famous. Now she wishes she could go back to being a nobody.

“When do you get off today?”

“I have about four hours left and then I’m out of here. I’ve got to go home a prepare myself for family dinner.” Y/N says, grabbing a new patient’s clipboard.

“I heard Stiles telling Scott about that. Is this the first dinner with all of you together?”

“Yep, and I’m already regretting it.”

Melissa lets out a laugh, “I’m sure it will be fine, and if it isn’t, you can tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“I actually have the next two days off, so it will be a few days until I can give you a play-by-play.” With her working so many shifts to make up for her unintended long absence, she decided she needed two days to take a break. She’s exhausted and just wants to sleep in for a day.

“I can’t wait.”

---

“Hey! Where’s Stiles?” Y/N asks as she greets her dad. He’s the first one to arrive for dinner and she expected Stiles to be with him.

“He said that he could drive himself here, so I drove here straight after work.” The sheriff replies, pulling Y/N into a big hug.

“Okay, well, the others should be here soon if you want to go ahead and sit at the table, or I can turn the TV on, and you can sit in the living room and wait.”

“Where’s Derek?” He questions.

“In here!” Derek calls out from the kitchen.

The sheriff follows Y/N into the kitchen to see Derek checking on the rolls in the oven. “How are you, Derek?”

“I’m good, sir. How are you?” Derek asks, shaking Noah’s hand in greeting.

“Well, I’m still here so I guess I’m good.”

“Dad, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll help Derek finish up,” Y/N says, gesturing her hand toward their dining table. She moves to help Derek when there’s a knock on the front door. “Never mind.”

Walking toward the front door, she can hear two heartbeats on the other side. Opening the door, Tony and Peter are now standing in front of her, “Hey. Thanks for coming.” She hugs them both as they enter the loft.

They had a few conversations after taking down Kate and the hunters, but they are still a little awkward around each other. Y/N and Peter not so much, but she isn’t sure how to navigate a relationship with Tony. She doesn’t want to come off as she doesn’t care about him, but she also needs time to get used to having another dad.

With Peter it’s different. They’re close in age and they have the shared trauma from Hydra. She also feels like she talking to Stiles most of the time.

Y/N shuts the door behind them, she leads them into the kitchen. She pulls out her phone to text Stiles as they greet Derek and Noah. Tony and Peter sit down at the table, and she helps Derek bring the food over.

She looks down at her phone when it vibrates in her hand, “Stiles says he’s a bit caught up and that we should start without him. He’ll be a bit late.”

“What’s he caught up with?” Derek asks, sitting at the head of the table next to Noah and Y/N.

“He didn’t say.” She hopes it’s just something to do with school and not supernatural-related.

“So, Derek, when are you going to start working on your old house?” Peter asks Derek. Y/N has told him a bit about Derek’s plans, but she hasn’t told him everything.

“Um, soon. I’m waiting until after I hire someone to help out at the shop.” Derek replies. A few people have applied to the open position, but two of them ended up being Avengers fans who faked their resumes.

“You know who would probably be interested in the position, Barnes,” Tony says. “He would know what to do and he’s been looking for a job.”

Bucky hasn’t applied to any yet, but he has a few saved. He’d been thinking about taking a step back from the Avengers for a bit. After seeing the files and the videos of what happened to Y/N, they seemed to trigger some bad memories that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. He’s also had several nightmares about what they could’ve possibly done to Y/N if she wasn’t rescued when she was.

Derek shares a small look with Y/N as if to ask for help with what he should say, “Yeah, I could send him the listing to see if he’s interested, or it’s on our website too. At least, that’s what Lydia told me.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders a little when Derek looks back at her. She’s not going to tell Derek whether he should hire him or not, or even give Bucky a chance. It’s Derek’s business so that decision is completely up to him.

Tony opens his mouth to say something else, but Y/N decides to interrupt him. She’s sure Tony is about to say something that he thinks will be helpful for Derek, and she knows Derek probably doesn’t care to hear it. Derek likes doing things his way and he doesn’t always love people injecting their opinions. “So, Dad, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

Y/N ignores the longing look in Tony’s eyes as she speaks to the other man who raised her.

“Uh, not to my knowledge, no.” Sheriff Stilinski doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The tone in her voice says he should, but he can’t think of anything.

“Really?” Y/N looks down at his left ring finger where his wedding ring used to be.

“Right, I may or may not have a date tomorrow night.”

“Good for you,” Derek says proudly, patting him on the back. They haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but he and the sheriff have grown closer after he started dating Y/N. It was rough at first, but they started to get along after the sheriff saw how well Derek took care of Y/N after she was attacked one night by a hunter. They bonded that night as Y/N rested. It’s why Derek knows that the sheriff going on a date is a big deal for him.

“Who’s it with?” Y/N asks with a teasing smile.

“It’s with someone you know,” Noah says, keeping it vague.

“Well, it’s not with Melissa because she would’ve told me. But you also didn’t tell me until now. Oh my god, you’re date’s with Melissa.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Deaton?”

“It’s with a woman.”

“Well, who else do I know that’s at an appropriate age for you to date?” Y/N mutters mostly to herself.

Tony and Peter silently eat their food and watch the conversation with amused smiles on their faces. They like seeing Y/N with a smile on her face. It’s a lot better than what she looked like when dealing with Hydra, the hunters, and Derek getting shot with an arrow.

“It’s Lydia’s mom,” Derek states.

Noah looks at him a little shocked. He didn’t expect Derek to guess correctly or even chime in. “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t, but I do now.” Derek sends a triumph wink toward Y/N. She’s a little surprised he’s showing this side of himself with Tony and Peter here. With strangers, and sometimes the pack, he prefers to only let them see him as the tall, broody guy who doesn’t have many feelings.

“Just don’t tell Stiles. I haven’t told him I’m going on a date yet either.” He looks pointedly toward Y/N.

“Fine. My lips are sealed.” Y/N pretends to zip her lips for added effect. “What about you Peter? How’s MJ?”

The last time Peter had talked to her about MJ he wasn’t sure about the direction of their relationship. He loves her, but she’s still in college going for her master’s and he’s moving to Beacon Hills to be closer to his sister. They hadn’t decided if they wanted to try long-distance, have Peter go back and forth, or if they should call it quits for now.

Y/N told him that she shouldn’t be the reason his relationship with MJ should change. He just replies that he thought she was dead for several years and has missed out on being in her life, so he doesn’t plan on missing anymore.

“She’s good. We still haven’t decided what we’re going to do yet.” Peter replies, keeping his eyes down on the food on his plate to avoid looking at her.

“How has it been at the hospital? Are people still showing up and harassing you?” Tony asks, turning the attention away from Peter because he can feel he doesn’t want to talk about MJ.

“Yeah, we had a guy come in today asking me questions. It’s the fifth time he’s been in this week.” Y/N rolls her eyes in annoyance.

Tony frowns at her answer. He offered her a job to work with the Avengers in their medical wing to avoid the crazy press and fans and to spend more time with her, but she declined. She likes her job, and she likes that she can help her brother and friends by having her job.

“He’s been in five times?” Derek questions, his tone on the protective side.

“Yeah, he’s some college guy who wanted to interview me for some school project.”

“College guy?” “Didn’t the school year just start?” Derek and Peter question at the same time.

“He said it was for a paper for his criminology class. I let him ask me a few questions and then told the front desk not to let him back unless he’s dying.”

“What questions did he ask you?” Peter asks.

“Like ‘how did I react when I found out’ and ‘how did I feel about the videos people were making about me.’ I gave him five questions and only answered the ones I wanted to.” Y/N shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I only did it so that he’d stop wasting the staff’s time with his fake injuries and illnesses.”

“Has Stiles told you if he’s on his way?” Noah asks, changing the subject.

Y/N checks her phone and sees that Stiles hasn’t texted her, “Nope, but you know how he gets. He probably lost track of time, or he’s still caught up in whatever he’s doing.”

The table goes quiet, and everyone continues eating. No one knows what to say. This isn’t the first dinner they’ve had together, but they all typically end in silence. They do some polite small talk in the beginning—mostly everyone only speaking to Y/N—then finish their food in silence.

Derek takes his and Y/N’s empty plates to the sink when they're done. Y/N packs up some of the leftovers for her dad to take home.

“I should go. I’ve got a long shift in the morning.” Noah says. He pats Derek on the shoulder as a goodbye. He takes the leftovers from Y/N’s hands and follows her to the front door. “I’m assuming you’re going to show up to the station before my date tomorrow.”

“You know me so well.” Y/N smiles, hugging him goodbye. “See you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He closes the door behind himself as he leaves. Y/N turns to Tony and Peter who are ready to leave as well.

“Thanks for having us over. Dinner was good.” Tony says, putting his jacket back on that he took off while eating.

“Thanks for coming,” Y/N says, hugging them both goodbye. “My schedule is starting to slow down so I’ll let you know when I’m free for us to do something.” She notices Tony perk up at the thought of spending more time with her.

She waves at them goodbye before closing and locking the loft door. Sighing in exhaustion, she turns to see Derek standing and staring at her with a familiar lovestruck look in his eyes.

“I feel like I could sleep for a week,” Y/N says, slowly walking over to him.

Derek wraps his arms around her when she reaches him, “Well, I’ve done the dishes, so how about we go upstairs, take a nice hot bath, and then get you to bed?”

“Keep saying things like that and I’ll get on one knee right now and ask you to marry me.”

“I prefer when you get on both knees.”

Y/N scoffs at his joke, “Just take me upstairs to a bath. If you treat me right, maybe the bath could turn into something more.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Derek says. Y/N lets out a laugh when Derek wraps his arms around her thighs and picks her up, carrying her upstairs.

---

Y/N slowly opens her eyes to see Derek asleep next to her. She smiles a little at how cute he looks when he’s asleep. Turning to the clock on her bedside table, she notices that it’s almost midnight. She’s only been asleep for a little over an hour and she’s not sure what woke her up. As she turns back to Derek, their bedroom door flies open.

“Y/N?” Stiles calls out from the doorway.

“What the fuck Stiles?” Y/N groans, clamping her eyes shut when he flicks on the bedroom light. She can feel Derek waking up next to her. “Why the fuck are you here so late?”

Stiles walks into the room and sits on the bed next to Y/N, “I feel like I’m going crazy and you’re the only one that believes me.” Y/N can smell that he reeks of anxiety.

“Go home,” Derek groans, wraps an arm around Y/N’s waist, and pulls her in closer to him, pushing his face into the back of her neck to try and hide from the light.

Y/N sighs, using her hands to block the ceiling light, “You can tell me what’s going on after you turn off the light.”

Stiles huffs in frustration but gets up and turns off the light before sitting back on the bed, “There’s something off about Theo but no one believes me. Scott thinks I should give him the benefit of the doubt and that, even if he is bad, everyone is savable.”

“Does some of this have to do with why you didn’t show up to dinner?”

“Sorry about that. Me and Liam followed him around to see what he’d do.”

“And what did he do?”

“We may have followed him to the bridge near where his sister was found.” Stiles mumbles, fiddling with the drawstrings on his hoodie.

“He could’ve noticed you following him and put on a ‘good guy’ act,” Y/N says, trying to think of something that would support Stiles’ theory.

“Don’t encourage him,” Derek mumbles sleepily behind her.

“I broke into the administration office and found the transfer form his dad signed and compared it to a speeding ticket he signed eight years ago. The signatures are completely different.” Stiles says. He knows he’s right about Theo and he doesn’t get why Scott doesn’t believe him.

“Okay, I believe you. Look, I’m exhausted so how about we get some sleep and talk about this some more later? You’ve got school tomorrow, so you need some sleep too.” Y/N says as gently as she can. She doesn’t want him to feel like she doesn’t believe him either, but she might fall back asleep any minute now. “You know you are welcome to the guest room. It’s practically yours now anyway.”

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Stiles asks shyly.

“No,” Derek answers quickly.

“Not like in your bed, but like can I drag the guest room’s mattress in here and sleep on it on the floor?”

Even in the dark, Y/N can see the vulnerability in his eyes, “Yes, you can sleep in here.” Stiles smiles and runs out of the room toward the guest room.

“You should’ve said no,” Derek groans.

“He’s worried about his friends and senior year has been giving him a lot of anxiety after asking Dad about his high school buddies.”

“How has that given him so much anxiety that he stinks of it?”

“Dad told him that he no longer speaks to any of his friends from high school and he’s scared him and his friends will end up the same way.”

Derek sighs, “Fine, but him staying in here is a one-time thing.”

Y/N starts to reply when Stiles comes back into the room, pulling the guest bedroom mattress behind him with one hand and his pillows and blankets in the other. He puts the mattress against the wall that faces Y/N’s side of the bed.

He puts his pillows down on the mattress before laying down and wrapping his blankets around himself, “Okay, goodnight. Don’t do anything gross since I’m here.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his last sentence, “Goodnight Stiles.”

As she starts to drift back off to sleep, she hears Stiles speak again, “Y/N?”

“What?”

“Did you notice that Dad stopped wearing his ring?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replies gently.

“Do you think he’s met someone?”

“You’d have to ask him that.” She would’ve responded with yes, but she promised her dad earlier that she wouldn’t tell Stiles because he wanted to be the one to do it.

“I just want him to be happy,” Stiles says, staring up at the ceiling.

“Me too.”

There’s a moment of silence before Stiles says, “I miss Mom.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, goodnight,” Stiles rolls over to his side to face the wall.

“Goodnight,” Y/N pushes herself back into Derek’s loose embrace. After Stiles laid out the mattress, he was out like a light. She starts to drift off again when Stiles interrupts her again.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for believing me.”

“Always.”

---

@xxemmarldxx @esposadomd @ladyjenjay @ts1mp0ne @misshale21

@n1ght5h4d3-24 @xoxoloverb

[chieri-rose-under-blog]

“And Then, Our Paths Crossed”

(Part 2: Tell Me)

Summary: A fateful meeting at Saboady two years ago leads to a love affair with no promising future, but pirates live in the moment, and that's what you and Law plan to do.

Info: MDI/18+, Law x fem/reader, angst, light bondage, light Law/dom, rebellious behavior, ridding, oral and vaginal sex, orgasm holding, romance

Tag list: @lawsvalentine @itsnunya12 @sasukeswife3 @520love-a @augustanna @patchofblue @kiasnotforever

The breeze felt good this high up in the crow's nest, and the view was one that you would never be tired of seeing. The ocean’s winds played at your hair, and the scarf still tied around your neck.

You laugh to yourself as you remember what had happened at breakfast that morning. Really though, what was Law thinking staring at you like that? Zoro may not look it, but he is always perceptive about his surroundings.

We’re just going to have to be more cautious about our public interactions.

You had no worries about Law ending what you two had going on. If anything, he might become overly zealous about this affair between you and him.

For a man that appeared complicated, he actually wasn’t. A trauma case, certainly, but what person wasn’t one nowadays? But complex, never, at least to you, he wasn't.

Maybe that's why this ‘relationship’ worked or why you chose to speak to him first two years ago at the archipelago.

Thinking about it now, you could laugh at yourself for feeling so nervous approaching him.

At the time, you were being followed by four, no, six men (Zoro had taught you better than letting your nerves distract your senses) while walking as casually as possible through one of the populated groves.

From the information you had gathered from the locals, kidnappings and human trafficking occurred frequently in certain parts of the archipelago.

And, of course, I have to walk in one of those zones alone.

When everyone had chosen to go their separate ways at the Sunny, Nami had wanted you and Robin to join her on a shopping spree.

"Not this time Nami. I want to explore the place on my own and see what intel I can get about the New World."

"Oh, but Y/N, you can do any time. We are stuck here for a few days." Nami had pouted.

"Besides, Robin can do that for us while we're shopping!"

"I think we should let Y/N go on her own. There's a benefit to having the both of us gathering information." Robin chimed in with her option.

You nodded in agreement and promised Nami, "We can go shopping together tomorrow. Like you said, we have time, and I doubt one day will be enough for you."

"Fine," Nami moped.

Robin giggled and then said to you, "Have fun, Y/N. Just don't get kidnapped by a mysterious man."

You had wondered if Robin’s words had unintentionally brought you bad luck. Your eyes scanned around for an opportunity to lose the hunters, but instincts told you to keep walking.

The number of men had grown to ten and that seemed like overkill to you for one lone woman, but maybe they knew whose crew you were a part of.

Or maybe they're all from different gangs, lucky me.

You weren't weak, but you had to be clever. If all these men were from different gangs, they might fight each other over you or team up and backstab each other later. A messy situation either way.

Walking a tad faster, you heard fighting up ahead. A few people ran passed you, screaming about pirates going crazy.

A few names were mentioned, but none of them meant anything to you. Not that you could care. You were too busy thinking about using the chaos ahead to lose the people pursuing you.

That plan died when you noticed him sitting on a wooden crate, legs spread apart, with three of his men standing at his back. Immediately you recognized him from the newspapers and wanted posters.

The Surgeon of Death, Trafalgar Law.

You could never forget the sight, and the memory would always make you quiver with infatuation. What you did that day was crazy, but between approaching him for aid or fighting off the hunters alone, it was worth the gamble.

The trapped door slammed open, and the memory bubble popped away as you turned to see Sanji climbing through the opening.

“Hey,” he said simply with a smile while brushing the blond locks out of his right eye. “I came to serve you a light mid-morning snack.”

“Aw, thanks Sanji! You didn’t have to do that!”

Sanji looked pleased by your reaction and went over to the snack platform to take out a tray with a glass bowl on top.

He took out the tray and went over to you then bowed saying, “You know I don't mind. It's always a pleasure to serve a beautiful woman.”

You rolled your eyes but giggled at his words.

“Thank you, sir, for always being the handsome gentleman willing to serve me.”

Sanji chuckled and watched you take your first bite of the treat.

“Mm! So good!”

“I'm glad.”

He watched you take a few more bites before Sanji’s face became serious as he got to his other purpose for seeing you.

“So, Y/n, what was the real reason Traffy was staring at your neck?”

The spoon was in your mouth, and you glanced up at him with large, questioning eyes as if you didn't know what he was talking about.

“Zoro is an idiot, but he’s not stupid. Law was staring at your neck. Why?”

You licked your spoon and shrugged.

“I don't know. He did say he was admiring my scarf.”

“Your scarf,” Sanji frowned. “Really?”

You scooped up more of your delicious treat, saying, “He has a thing for feathers and furs; maybe he likes scarfs too.”

Sanji sighed and got out his cigarette pack. You watched him take one out and place it between his lips. It wasn't till he got out his lighter that you said something to stop him.

“You know Zoro hates it when you smoke in here.” You chided him.

The lighter clicked open and Sanji moved the small flame to light his cigarette. Smoke bloomed from his lips and he took the stick between his fingers and looked at you.

“I know that Luffy told us to get along, but you need to be careful. We’re pirates, and Traffy isn't part of our crew. Once this alliance is over, we go back to being enemies."

"I know." Boy, do I know it.

“Also, he’s not telling us everything about this plan of his. Luffy is not the only one taking advantage here; Traffy is using us.”

You nodded, agreeing that Law was holding back information. You felt a touch of guilt for not using your ‘relationship’ to find out what Law was hiding. A part of you didn't want to pry, fearing it would ruin what you had with him.

“I know,” you reluctantly admitted after a moment of silence.

Sanji took another puff of his cigarette, but the tobacco did little to ease his stress.

Something was going on, and you were hiding it from everyone. Sanji just hoped that you knew what you were doing and would ask for help if needed.

"Good," he breathed shakily as smoke swirled out of his mouth.

"And you know that if anything bad happens, I would be the first to come to your rescue, right? Or if you're hurting and can't talk to someone, you can come to me."

You set down the bowl and grabbed his hand to give it a comforting squeeze.

"Hey," you said tenderly, "you know that I love all of you, right? You and the rest of this crew are precious to me. My only and true family."

Sanji blushed and grinned at you, asking, "But you love me the most, right?"

"Of course," you grinned back at him, "how can a queen not love her knight?"

You both laughed at the playful banter, acting like the warnings about Law never happened.

As the two of you chatted pleasantly, Sanji suddenly wished this alliance will Law had never occurred. Or that the man had brought his ship and crew along, so he wouldn't have to be on the Sunny.

Better yet, he wished that a certain idiot had made his move when you were still interested. Not that he deserved you.

Neither of them did, in his opinion, but it was lady’s choice.

“I'll kill him if he hurts her.” Sanji calmly thought as he finished his cigarette.

Your soft cries filled the storage room where you and Law agreed to meet.

The pretty scarf that caused so much disruption at breakfast was torn in half.

Law used the pieces to bind your wrist and cover your eyes. He was paying you back for the trouble you caused this morning and last night.

That's what Law told himself, refusing to acknowledge the greedy monster taking over his reasoning.

The shorts and panties you wore were stripped away and tossed aside, along with your bra, which he had impatiently cut from your body. You didn't know why, but Law wanted you to leave on the thin cotton crop top you wore.

Law took in the sight of you lying submissively on the floor, steadily breathing. His grey eyes watch your chest rise and fall, the thin fabric stretching over your breast. Your nipples slowly harden under his gaze, making Law lick his lips.

“Not bad,” he said huskily.

His eye travel further down over your belly and to the valley of your core, surrounded by your thighs. Yes, this was a treat he would enjoy devouring.

“Remember, Y/N, I don't want to hear a word from you.”

Your throat moved as you swallowed, remaining obediently still.

You could hear him moving, and then something light dropped to the floor, perhaps a shirt. It sounded like he was moving closer, and you shifted your head to figure out where Law had gone.

You then gasped when his hands grabbed your legs and dragged you down towards him, you guessed. You felt him spread your legs wide, and you waited anxiously for Law to enter you roughly.

It would hurt like a bitch since you were barely wet enough to take him, but you swore not to say a word.

“What a good girl you're being for me,” he purred over your lower belly, then gave your skin a long lick.

You shivered, trying to relax your body before he penetrated you.

Law chuckled and kissed your inner thigh, following it with another teasing lick. His eyes darted up when you made a sound that nearly became a word, but you drew your bottom lip between your teeth to stop your voice.

Fuck, you were beautiful.

Watching you struggle like this pumped the blood straight to his cock, and Law wanted to do what you expected and dive right into you.

But tomorrow, they will be in Dressrosa, and Doflamingo will have stepped down from the Warlords. One way or another, his life's goal would be accomplished, and he had only now to be frivolous.

He didn't want to die, but if that's what it took, he'll have something interesting to reflect on in the afterlife.

"I'm going to take my time with you," he grinned, "so don't say a fucking word." He pressed his tongue to your heat and ran it up, fast, wet, and hot.

You let out a sharp cry of surprise, turning your head to the side. Your breath became a mix of panted cries and whines as Law's mouth tasted more of you.

His strong inked hands kept your legs open to him, and you would feel a digit enter you. You could also feel his goatee rubbing against you as he ate at you.

Being unable to see made all of this too intense and startling since you didn't know what would happen next.

What you would give to look at him! To see his expression! To have him glance up at you, grey eyes locking with yours as he dipped his tongue into you!

"Aah, ah, nah. Ah!"  

Law enjoyed the sounds of your pathetic voice as he tasted you. With every reaction you made, he wanted to see if he could get more out of you. He flicked his tongue, then swirled it, playing with you, then used his lips to suck at the sweet honey dripping from your pussy.

Every touch was sweet torment from the lack of sight, nearly bringing you to your end, but Law would only bring you to the edge and then retreat at the last second.

It made you want to scream!

Law chuckled at your frustrated cries and went back to torturing you.

Having enough, your hands reached out to touch him back and get him to give you what you wanted. His dark hair brushed along your fingers, and they curled into the short locks to hold him to you as your hips gyrate in slow waves.

Law growled into you, but he didn't stop and suck in your clit. The scream you let out stroked his pride, making his dick throb painfully. He wanted to drag this out more, but he had to get inside you.

“Damn you,” he mentally swore.

Even when you promise to behave, you always find a way to rebel. It drove him insane, but he loved it. Still, Law was determined to remain in charge.

He moved away from your hands, making you cry desperately, and gazed down at his work.

Your tasty pussy, now moist and pulsing, looked ready to take him in. Law gripped your tied hands and pushed them back over your head while moving over you.

"Keep them there," he order.

You frowned, annoyed that you couldn't argue back, but you didn't move your hands.

You then gasped, almost saying his name, when Law pinched one of your nipples. His mouth then came over your other mound. The fabric became wet, and you cursed the man for making you leave the top on!

The curses grew louder in your head as you felt Law pushed into you without warning.

"FUCK!" Law voiced as you screamed it in your head.

The connection was like a hot wire coming to life as he reached further into you. God, he just had you last night, and Law felt ready to burst into you without needing to move.

And, of course, being the blasted woman you were, you just had to squeeze the muscles holding him.

"F-Fuck! Y/n! Don't!"

You released him and moved your hips. Law gritted his teeth, focusing on not losing to you so soon. You were tired of orders the arrogant bastard kept making. You had something thick and hard in you and wanted to feel the pleasure it could bring you.

"You bitch!" Law groaned when you grind and squeezed against him.

He tried to pull away, but you quickly trapped him with your legs. You squeezed him again, and Law collapsed against your body. A low chuckle vibrated against your neck, then he kissed one of the love bites he had marked you with.

"Fine!"

Law rolled the two of you over so you sat on top of him with you still impaled on his length.

You tossed back your head with a hiss at the new position. Law brought his arms under his head and smirked up at you.

"Since you're so eager, you can do the work. Maybe this will teach you a lesson for disobedience."

You huffed, now really having enough. You used your bonded hands to remove the blindfold and glared down at him.

"I'm going to make you regret those words," you mentally told him.

Law just stared back with that annoying smirk and taunted, "Bring it."

"Mother Fu-"

You lifted yourself up and slammed back down, your hands on his firm abs for support. Law groaned, then chuckled. It would take more than that for him to cave to you, and you knew it as well.

And you knew him.

Law's brow quirked when you smirked back at him. How could he forget that he was in your territory? Literally.

You moved, but you also used your hands to touch your breast. Law swallowed hard, watching you grope yourself as you moved on his cock. You didn't utter his name but he could see you thinking it in your eyes.

You were calling to him, begging him to move with you. To reach that final place. Law was almost moved enough to be seduced by you. Almost, be he stubbornly held back.

He wouldn't give in! Not this time! Not when it could be his last!

Law tried closing his eyes to fake boredom, but then the sounds you made had him want to thrust his hips up into you, but he held back. He didn't care if you brought yourself to your own end at this point. He refused to budge. 

Law would hold on till you begged him to take you or till you tuckered yourself out.

Just like you knew him, Law knew you.

You were starting to slow down, and Law opened an eye to peer at you. He smirked at how frustrated you looked, trying to hold back your orgasm.

"Keep going, baby. I'm not getting tired of this view anytime soon."

You whined, not wanting to cum without him. Only you did. You couldn't help it. All that thrusting you did with his gaze lazily watching you was too much. Damn him.

Law caught you as you slumped forward. He had to breathe through the spasms he felt as your pussy tried to milk him of his seed. His mouth covered yours, and you kissed deliriously at him, taking in his tongue.

He rolled you back over and drew out of you.

"No," you nearly whispered, but Law kissed your mouth to stop you.

"Shh." Law hushed as he undid the piece of fabric at your wrist.

Immediately you ran your hands over his tattooed chest, then up his neck, where they cradled his face. You kissed his lips again as a frightening feeling crept into your chest.

You loved this frustrating, stubborn, ruthless, scheming, yet kind man. Law promised to tell you a small part of what he was hiding from your crew, but only if you didn't speak until he permitted and you nearly lost the game.

Law pressed his forehead to yours and adjusted himself over you.

“Be a good girl for me, Y/n or I’ll punish you again. Understand.”

You weakly nodded, then sighed.

Law then surprised you by tenderly kissing your lips and sighing a smile. Not a smirk or grin, but a genuine smile.

No, you thought mournfully, don't do that to me.

“Let me take care of the rest,” he breathed as he pressed the head of his cock back at your entrance.

Law heatedly kissed you as he plunged back into you. Now that he had you exhaust the defiance out of yourself, you were his to enjoy at his leisure. You held him as he pounded into you, not caring anymore about retaliating.

Not wanting to think what that smile could have meant!

Use me! Just use me and don't give me false hope. Don't show me a dream that can never be!

You didn't care if he gave you another order. If he wanted you to bark like a needy bitch, you would have. You should have just been a ‘good girl’ and let him fuck you till he had enough.

It would have been easier to pretend that nothing deeper was happening between the two of you besides sex.

You still could have if the energy behind his thrust hadn't changed. Still, fast and hard, something felt different. His breathing changed, and the way he suddenly held onto you changed. Law was doing something he wasn’t supposed to do, and it felt amazing.

Damn him! Damn him! You cursed as you closed your eyes to hold back tears.

The heat in your lower belly started to coil again, making you move with him. There was no choice; you had to move with him to respond to his hidden confession.

Law didn't tell you to stop and groaned into your ear, "Go ahead, say it."

You moaned, then breathed out his name.

"Louder," he commanded, then bit down at an empty space at your shoulder.

"Law!" You gasped, his pounding coming harder, growing more desperate.

"Again!"

You were both racing toward that end, ready to fall into oblivion.

"LAW!" You cried louder.

It wasn't enough! He needed more from you!

"Tell me your mine!"

"I'm yours!!” You cried out earnestly, wishing you could somehow get closer to him while holding on to your sanity.

“All yours! I'm all yours, Law!"

Law closed his eyes, feeling himself losing his mind! He knew this was wrong to do. That he was being selfish and cruel to you but he wanted it! This might be his last chance to hear it!

"Tell me-" he started to say, but you change the movement of your hips, throwing his body and mine into chaos.

“Tell-"

"Me-"

Law groaned and grunted as he came inside you as his head came down to your shoulder. You held him, head thrown back with a breathless cry as you orgasmed again.

Tears pricked at your eyes at the blissful rapture you were bathed in and at the selfish request Law had nearly made.

You knew what he wanted you to tell him, but they were words that shouldn't be said out loud.

The two of you were sharing a fantasy that was meant to be short lived.

Saying those words would shatter the fantasy and invite cruel reality.

The reality where the two of you were from different pirate crews and attempting to take down a Warlord and an Emperor. There was no room for fantasy if you wanted to survive.

You stared at the ceiling as you held a panting Law, his length still buried inside you. Tears trickle down from your eyes as you gave him a protective squeeze. 

Law was a logical man and his sudden act of recklessness told you more than you wanted to know about his plan.

Sanji was right.

Law was using Luffy and all of you, but it was something he was willing to die for, and you didn't want to know what it was anymore.

Nothing would come out of this relationship, but Law was an idiot to think you would let him die. Or that Luffy would allow it.

You smiled and wiped away your tears.

“You’re about to find out what all of us are made of,” you whispered to Law as he dozed off in your arms.

(Part 1)

[barry-j-blupjeans]

"Listen," Taako said, kicking his feet up on the Director's desk. "Cha'boy needs to live somewhere else."

"I'm… sorry?" the Director said. She looked like she had just woken up. Because she did. Whoops. The concept of time and Taako didn't really agree with each other. If the best time to get his thoughts out was six in the goddamn morning, then who was Taako to reject that? Not after he spent all night with motherfucks he has to dorm with.

"Cha'boy," Taako repeated, slowly. "Needs. To live. Somewhere else."

"Can I-" the Director sighed, dropping her face into her hands. She inhaled. Rubbed at her temples. Looked back up with an expression Taako could only describe as deep and utter regret. "Do I even want to know why?"

"No," Taako said. "But I got a list, so hang onto your hat. Number one-" he leaned back in the chair, teetering on the back legs. "-I need my beauty sleep."

"Don't we all," the Director asked, deadpan.

"You'll be fine," Taako said. "But this look takes work, compadre. Do you think I just wake up looking like this?" The Director opened her mouth. "Don't answer that." The Director shut her mouth. "But I doubt Magnus even knows what an inside voice is and Merle doesn't understand the concept of closing his fucking bedroom door and I am so, so close to committing even more crimes against death."

"Taako…"

"Two," Taako said, holding up two fingers. "Merle and Magnus both, objectively, smell awful. Have you stood near Merle recently, Director?"

"I… can't say I have," the Director said. There was a deep look of worry on her face now.

"Good," Taako said. "'Cus it's bad. I think he just eats deodorant instead of actually putting it on. And number three-"

Taako considered. Being tired of having to sneak his boyfriend around probably wasn't a good excuse, considering the Director didn't know that one, said boyfriend existed, and two, that he was even on the moon in the first place. Or knew the moon wasn't, y'know, the moon. But man, it felt bad to end his list on two. That was pathetic. He at least needed a three.

"Number three," Taako began again. "I deserve it."

"You deserve it," the Director repeated dryly.

"Sure as hell do," Taako said. "Like, you deal with a weapon of mass destruction several times and you don't even get a sweet room upgrade? Do you even have a retention plan, Director?"

Yes. Score one for Taako. He was so good at this.

"I like to think that the agreement of not dying from said weapon of mass destruction is some pretty good retention for most people," the Director said, which, yeah, fair.

"But I'm Taako," Taako said.

"Yeah," the Director said. "And it's five in the fucking morning, Taako. What the hell do you want me to do about it?"

"I'll take a new room," Taako said, crossing his legs in a different direction. The Director slid some documents away from his feet. "And maybe like, a raise. Sound good?"

"Hm," the Director said. She squinted at him. Taako dropped the chair back down to all four legs. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "What month is it?"

"May-ish," Taako said. "Y'know, around there."

"Around there," the Director said, nodding. "Come back to me, uh- let's- let's say after midsummer. And we'll see what we can do."

"After midsummer," Taako said echoed. "Need I remind you that last midsummer, the entire sky kinda like, got fucked up with a buncha eyes? Remember that? That was a thing that happened."

"Rest assured that they will be dealt with this year if they so choose to return," the Director said.

"Somehow that's not really reassuring me," Taako said.

"It's part of the retention plan," the Director said. "Now if you could please get the fuck out of my office, that would be stellar."

[armoricaroyalty]

Freddy and Emily's engagement interview

212 comments

👼🏻 PrettyInPink: The very definition of poise and class! Emily is such a breath of fresh air. 👍 363 🪦 DressedInDark: parasites 👍 301 👑 Agnes Crumblebottom: May the Saints bless Her Majesty Queen Elise. Of the Armoricans and Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Rosalind. I pray every Day for our royal family! Amen! 👍 154 👼🏻 PrettyInPink: @ 🪦 DressedInDark Why are you watching videos about the royal family if you don't like them! 👍 267 🪦 DressedInDark: @ 👼🏻 PrettyInPink lmao can't handle criticism of your emotional support parasites 👍 103 👪 Mom of Three: I was always Team Freddy everyone else in my year was a Jacques girl 👍 78 👼🏻 PrettyInPink: @ 🪦 DressedInDark Parasites by definition harm their host, but the Armorican royal family contribute more annually to the economy than they receive each year from the Royal Grant. 👍 11 🪦 DressedInDark: parasite parasite parasite parasite 👍 7

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

author's note: about six months ago, I solicited audience questions for their engagement interview and I am only just now using them RIP. The interview is below the cut xoxoxo

Q. The first question is for Prince Frederick, from @whitmoretroyals. How did you propose?

FREDERICK. I went into it without a plan, if you can believe that. [laughs] I had just spoken to my father, and I had the ring burning a hole in my pocket. Maybe I should have planned the whole thing out better, but I just found her and knelt down and…

EMILY. He came right out with it.

F. I did.

E. He did! He just said “I love you, I can’t live without you. Marry me?” No romantic speeches for me! [laughs] But that’s just not his style.

Q. How did you realize she was the one?

F. I don’t think there was a single moment. We were quite serious about one another from the beginning. Just from the very start, it was clear that this relationship was different—that she was different—from anything I’d ever experienced.

Q. Different how?

F. Different in every way! [ laughs ] More thoughtful, more sophisticated…most relationships I’ve had, it started out just fooling around, just having fun, and then months in, it was like, “who are we, what are we doing?” So right away, it was different with Emily because we both knew that we wanted something more than that.

E. We were quite committed from the outset. I think that frightened him a little. Early on, I remember him saying, “if this isn’t what you really want, you don’t have to go through with this,” and I was surprised like, “why wouldn’t I want this? I care about you.”

F. I was worried about the press. It can be a lot to handle, no offense.  [ laughs ] But she’s brilliant, an absolute natural. That’s really been the best part of all of this, seeing the whole world fall in love with her just like I did.

Q. Lady Emily, as you prepare to join the royal family, how do you envision using your position to make a positive impact or support causes close to your heart?

E. Being a member of the royal family is, of course, a tremendous responsibility. I think we’re all aware of how much work, how much real work, the royal family does for the people of Armorica. I’m very eager to join the family and to be part of all that, and to contribute in whatever small way I can.

F. She already does a lot, for the royal family and for me. She’s really supported my work with the arts. The work we did in Uspana, the museum exhibit, wouldn’t have been possible without her, for example. That’s why it felt like the right moment to announce our engagement and to celebrate it at the opening, because it had really become such a shared thing, such a reflection of who we are, as a couple.

Q. You’re quite fortunate to work so closely together, but of course, work isn’t everything. @crownsofesha asked, what you do together for fun?

F. Right now? We plan weddings. [ laughs ]

E. [ laughs ] It’s taking up a lot of our time, that’s for sure.

F. We’re both very excited for it, of course. We’re really looking forward to having everyone come together to celebrate with us, and we want to make sure that it’s something very special.

E. It’s important for both of us to incorporate a lot of our families’ traditions, but of course our families have very different traditions! And with it being a royal wedding, we have to make things very proper. So we’ve been working closely with Her Majesty and with my own parents to make sure that we have a chance to incorporate all of these different elements and little things that are so important to both of us and to our families.

F. It’s going to be really amazing. I can’t wait until September.

Q. Do you have any plans to start a family together? This one is from @thewoodslegacy

E. Well…

F. We’re still working on the wedding. [ laughs ] One thing at a time!

E. Of course we’d like to, someday.

F. Someday. Yeah. Obviously, we’d both like to be parents. And it’s kind of required, for a royal. [ laughs ] I know my parents are really eager for more grandchildren. [ to Emily ] What about it? Should we give Hugo a cousin?

E. Frederick!

F. She’s going to be an incredible mother, of course. She is incredible at everything she does.

E. [ softer ] Frederick...

Q. @rebouks asks: Where do you see yourselves in five years? Ten?

F. Well, I want to be a father. That’s been established. [ laughs ]

E. It’s a little hard to answer. My life is going to change so much that I think it's quite hard, in some ways, to think ahead. He's been amazing at getting me up to speed, and it's helpful to have a...

F. A shared background?

E. Right, we have sort of a...a shared pool of references. When you have a lot in common, that makes things easier. [ laughs ] But in five years, I want to be established and confident in my role, whatever that ends up being. [ softer ] I'd like to have a child.

F. I think for me, my goal is to just keep expanding the work we do. There are a lot of causes I’m passionate about, and I think that I can do a lot to kind of bring more attention to them. I want to raise awareness, and I want to do more in service to the Crown.

E. Of course. Like I said earlier, service is a big part of it for me, as well. [ pause ] I think we do that very well together.

F. We do. I guess that’s my real answer. In 10 years, I see myself with her.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello amazing mod team! I was wondering if you know of any fics involving Crowley taking care of an injured/sick/Fallen Aziraphale, or vice versa? The fluffier the better. I also typically don't read AUs. Thank you all so much for what you do here. Much love!

Hi! You can check our #sick fic, #hurt aziraphale, #hurt crowley, and #fallen angel aziraphale tags for more fics like this. Here are more fluffy hurt and sick Aziraphale fics to add...

Unsteady Breaths by Elijahsworld (NR)

Happily unboxing his new collection of books, the thought that anything he would receive could be harmful to his angelic being never crossed his mind. Or Aziraphale falls ill but Crowley's there to comfort him through these rough times.

Made it out of our cages, never made it back home by ethewinter (NR)

"We were a team," said Crowley. "And a damn good one at that. I never... Out of all of the people who could've betrayed me, angel, I never would have thought it would be you. Not in a thousand lifetimes. You want to know why I'm still hurt?" Crowley straightened and looked directly into Aziraphale's eyes. His yellow eyes were filled with tears. "I never would've done this to you. Never. I don't fucking care what you think, we're an us. We've always been an us. You running off to play archangel doesn't make that different." - Aziraphale's promotion to supreme archangel doesn't work out. Crowley's left to pick up the pieces.

so I’ll take care of you (and honey, you’ll take care of me too) by sugardustedtulips (T)

“Angels don’t sneeze,” Crowley began, letting a few seconds of silence fill the atmosphere. “Wait, do they?” “I don’t know, dear. But, not to worry, I’ll be all tickety-boo in no time. It’s just the weather, you see, icy all around,” Aziraphale remarked, his tone a smidge too polite and formal for the situation. “My corporation’s merely responding to the changes-“ He had begun, before another sneeze so rudely punctuated his sentence. The muffled mucus-filled sniffles were loud enough to be transmitted to the other end of the phone, the worry in the demon’s chest rising, pounding on his ribs. “‘m coming over,” Crowley said matter-of-factly, hoping Aziraphale couldn’t somehow sense that both his legs are anxiously bouncing at breakneck speed.

Unwilling to waste miracles on himself, Aziraphale can’t miracle himself better after catching a cold. Luckily, a certain lovesick demon is there to take care of him. A sickening amount of fluff ensues (and many feelings are realised).

at the edge of the water by viperinz (G)

“Hello, dearest. Do you mind miracling a cold pack for me? I’m afraid I can’t focus enough to do it.” Crowley swallows, his eyes wide. He does what he’s asked to do, because of course he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. He walks to the side Aziraphale is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hands the cold pack to Aziraphale, who gratefully takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Crowley watches as he puts the pack on his right thigh. Aziraphale sighs in relief, but his face still conveys how much pain he still feels. And, Crowley gets it now. The pain that needed a cold pack, the way that Aziraphale was limping. It was an injury, wasn’t it?

Crowley notices that there's something going on with Aziraphale's leg. He realizes the pain lies deeper than he first thought it would.

Eye for an Eye by Greenathena (T)

A year before the Apocalypse, Aziraphale is suddenly struck blind, losing both his corporeal and ethereal vision. To make matters worse, he's just discovered that Heaven may have some new technology to hasten the end of the world.

so grey the face of every mortal by philadelea (T)

"Now, some 6,000 years, several historical rescues, and one half-Apocalypse later, that promise tasted like ash in Crowley’s mouth. " It's been six months since Armaggeddidn't. Aziraphale has been in Hell for the last three weeks. Crowley is there to pick up the pieces.

- Mod D

[callsignfate]

Valeria x Chaotic wife pt.5

(Hi, I just wanted to say thank you for all of the likes and attention people give this series! It means a lot because, honestly, I'm new to Tumblr, and I started writing (publicly) for a hobby. Thank you, and don't worry, I have no plans to end this anytime soon. Enjoy!)

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three/ Part Four/ Part Five

Part Six/ Part Seven/

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

R/N: I'm tired.

Valeria: I told you to go to bed last night. You don't NEED to sit on your phone for an hour or more before you go to sleep.

R/N: ...I do it's a part of my process to fall asleep.

Valeria: At least it's not bluey anymore.

R/N before you say it, it's not a kid show. It tackles serious topics.

Valeria: for kids sure.

R/N: You watched it too!

Valeria: And if you ever tell anyone that I will deny it, then never let you leave again.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria: Do you really need another one? You have like a hundred and I'm pretty sure I've seen that exact one.

R/N holding another squishmallow: This one is different it has a hat!

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria: Did you finish the last five books you bought?

R/N: Sort of...

Valeria: READ THE BOOKS YOU BUY BEFORE YOU GET MORE.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria: Let's go to- what are you doing?

R/N: What?

Valeria: It is almost midnight and you are drinking an energy drink?!

R/N: They taste good..

Valeria: You are either going to kill yourself or me way younger than I want either of us to die.

R/N: ...Want one?

Valeria: NO I DONT WANT ONE!

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria's men: MA'AM YOUR WIFE SHES STUCK ON THE ROOF

Valeria: I left her with your for 5 minutes! How in god's name did she scale the building and get stuck on the roof IN FIVE MINUTES?!

Valeria's men: We don't know we turned our back for like a second..

Valeria: (cursing under her breath in Spanish as she gets up from her desk to go help you down from the roof)

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria: With the amount of trouble and situations you get yourself in.. I'm genuinely surprised you're alive.

R/N: Oh, me too, I think it's like a super power.

Valeria: I wouldn't call it a superpower, but alright.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria: Why is there a ton of games downloaded on my computer?

R/N: ...

Valeria: What is wizard 101??

R/N: A game where your a wizard.. and you have to go to different towns and do different things..

Valeria: ...tell me.. do you do these things with the intent to annoy me? Or just do it and think 'no, Valeria won't care if I delete files to download A WIZARD GAME'

R/N: I'll take avoiding this question for 500.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

R/N helping Valeria with paperwork: GOD THIS IS BORING AND DRY. Can't their be some hot woman or man in this?

Valeria: It's finance paperwork not one of your dark kink romance books.. which is starting to make me wonder because some are about Mafia or Cartel leaders...

R/N: Intresesting because (R/N sprints away)

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria: I'm trying to work.

R/N: and I'm trying to annoy you while you work to get you to stop working so we can do something.

Valeria: ...

R/N: Anyways as I was saying, then Edward says 'this is the skin of a killer bella' and honestly it's kinda fun-

Valeria: ALRIGHT WE WILL GO GET SOMETHING TO EAT.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria: Why are my men saying your doing something stupid?

R/N: That's incredibly rude of them, I'm not doing anything.

Valeria: Then unlock the door and let me in.

R/N: We both know I can't do that.

Valeria: and why's that?

R/N: I tried to see if I could do this trick where you get your handcuffed arms from behind you to infront of you..

Valeria: You handcuffed your arms behind your back again?!

R/N: ...help.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

[lizzyscribbles]

Today's MHA ramble is either gonna be great or ineligible and there will be no in-between. I'm on my computer instead of my phone today so I can type so much faster, but, I am slightly dehydrated and out of it because I just spent like eight hours outside in the sun for a renaissance fair so maybe I'll just pass out half way through, who knows.

Lizzy's MHA thought/ramble of the night: MHA and why I think it does the "power of friendship" trope the correct way (IE: Not cringy/weird).

Now, I honestly think trying to wrap up the intricacies of the end of MHA in just "the power of friendship!!" is doing the series a huge disservice, but in its simplest form, that kind of is what happens. To be honest, I'm such a sucker for this trope. I love it when we get to see all the people the MC (Izuku in this case) has made an impact on over the course of the series and they all come together to back the main character, that is thee shit and I will eat it up.

However, the thing I love about MHA's approach to this is something we see explored a lot through the series: the idea that you don't have to go at it alone. Like, I feel like the ending has so much more of an impact because instead of them all the other characters standing behind him and going "Yay!! You can do it!! Good job!!" No, instead they run beside him and say "rest, we'll clear you a path. We know we can't do this for you, but at least let us do this".

Because that's what a friend is. That's what friendship is. It's realizing that not only is a friend someone you want to protect, but it's someone who protects you.

It gives me chills Every. Damn. Time.

It's through that we get to see the impact Izuku has made on everyone in the series. I joke with people that even when Izuku has nothing to do with something that's happening, he has something to do with it, and that really comes to a head in the final chapters. In a sort of ironic way, it's what ends up defeating All for One, because it's literally the only thing he never managed to get. Deku says as much while they're fighting, that deep down All for One really is just a lonely man. He had power, people to do his bidding and hang on his every word, but the top of the world is a very isolating place to be because there's no one who can look you in the eye. Followers and friends are two different things, a friend is an equal, a follower is a pawn.

I think it's why All for One was so attached to his younger brother Yoichi, because deep down, he knew All for One in ways that no one ever could. It was the closest to a genuine loving relationship he ever got.

Honestly, it's part of why All Might failed the first time around too. He had a few friends, sure, but in the end he was surrounded by mostly fans. People who adored and appreciated him, but did so from behind a barricade. All Might pretty much worked alone - and Deku definitely couldn't have made the progress he made without the trail All Might blazed - but Deku had the one thing All Might never did: People who fought alongside him even when he didn't want them to.

And, honestly? I can't blame All Might for avoiding it. After all, Deku almost does this same thing. They both wanted to protect people so badly they don't want to accept help. They see themselves as the only person who's allowed to make sacrifices because they're so scared they'll loose someone. It's part of the reason I find such comfort in Izuku as a character, because he never wants to see anyone else hurt because of him.

However, because Deku reached out first in the beginning, because he made friends and took care of them whenever he could, because treated them as equals, they said "too bad so sad, you get our help whether you like it or not, because that's what you'd do for us". It's the beauty of those final episodes of season six and why I love them so much, because 1-A had no reason to go after Deku other than they were worried about him. They didn't take no for an answer, because sometimes it's a friend's job to take you by the hand and scream in your face to "TAKE A NAP!!! EAT SOME FOOD!! YOU'RE WEARING YOURSELF DOWN AND YOU NEED A BREAK!!! SIT DOWN AND LET US CARRY YOU FOR A WHILE!!!"

It's exactly like Ochaco says, they don't want to be protected. They're not fragile victims to be looked after. They didn't get blindly wrapped up in this mess, they dove in head first because they cared about Izuku and wanted to stand at his side.

And therein lies the difference.

All for One had followers.

All Might had fans.

Deku had friends.

Followers will only do as they're told. Fans will only cheer on. But friends? You can't tell them to do shit, they do what they want, and if they want to help you then they will. Friends go the extra mile. Friends run beside you when no one else can. Friends clear the path for you so you can deliver that final big ass punch.

That's the magic of this trope, and you can see it so clearly here because it's realistic. And by that I mean Izuku doesn't get a magical burst of energy because everyone was cheering his name from the sidelines. It came from them actually doing shit to give him a chance. It came from Aizawa bandaging his wounds, it came from Iida grabbing his hand and half-dragging him across the battle field, it came from Eri giving a little bit of her quirk, it came from Bakugo showing up at the last second to blast the crap out of someone, it came from the countless attacks launched by the rest of the heroes to give him a chance to get back on his feet.

You know what they say, actions speak louder than words, and that's the magic of this kind of storytelling. We don't need to be told they care through chants or claps, they just show us.

That's the true "power of friendship". People who don't just stand beside you, but sometimes run in front of you so you don't trip over that stump in the path.

That's friendship. That's love. And I think that's incredibly beautiful.

...these posts get longer every time. Maybe I need to stick to my phone so my thumbs get tired faster. 😂 This is what happens when I'm allowed to cook late at night. If you made it to the end, thank you and I salute you.