#johan loste

[knowledgetoken]

i die when acr happens and im like....I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT!!! this is iris, ajay and lola's oldest daughter, and johan, kristen and erin's only child. they're gonna make nerd babies one day....

kristen immediately after started training johan, and she was NOT impressed with him. mfw when my mom is more shredded and is cooler than me (╥﹏╥) and they named me johan...

[suusoh]

let it be known if i had it my way i would give johan 0 rizz. absolutely none. nada. negative.

[yeonban]

The liveliness in Tobias' calm tone making others perceive him as more #human and #relatable to them vs the gentleness in Johan's calm tone helping others feel #seen and #understood... pick your poison

[rockstarmyass]

Johnny (and Samy) scraps courtesy of amajoeofficial

[meowmeowmessi]

the funniest thing abt true coolers barking abt messi and his father putting pressure on barça and not trusting them is that cruyff, literally the grandaddy of the institution, would be utterly appalled by the way the club is handling messi's transfer 😭

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

[holyprincenerd]

yes yes rigged this cha cha that but please let’s not ignore this right now:

https://www.aftonbladet.se/podcasts/ab/episode/355975 Swedish “eurovision expert” Tobbe Ek (for those of you who aren’t Swedish, this is the same guy who accused Måneskin of doing coke on live tv back in 2021) and his posse of minions decided that it was time to spread some absolutely hateful rhetoric against the people of Finland by calling them shitty, idiotic, telling them they should be ashamed of not voting for Sweden (??? literally what???) etc etc, while also dragging in other contestants like Lord of the Lost and insulting them as a means of questioning why the Finnish public voted for them but not for Sweden. (You know. Because it totally doesn’t make any sense at all that a country known for having the most metal bands per capita in the world would vote for Lord of the Lost. Not at all.) 

As the cherry on top of this xenophobic shit cake, they started to go on about how “There’s no way there were ten contestants who were better than Sweden this year.” (Again. Not only disrespecting the other contestants, but them pretending not to grasp the concept of a country known for preferring heavier music choosing to vote mostly for bands this year... Yeah... Couldn’t be their preferences...)

Again, this man is considered a Eurovision expert here in Sweden, yet this is the type of behaviour he and his coworkers display over a nonissue like the Finnish public not voting for Sweden this year. If there’s something shameful here, it’s this.

To reiterate: These are three grown-ass well past 40-year old people having a genuine meltdown over one (1) singular country not voting for them.

Why are we giving Tobbe Ek (and his irrelevant coworkers) a platform, again?

EDIT:

Hoo boy, there’s more. Because of course there is.

ALRIGHT here’s an article from one of our tabloids using quite suspiciously colonialistic sounding rhetoric about Finland being “the kingdom’s previous eastern half”.

https://www.expressen.se/noje/finska-sveket-mot-sverige-gav-noll-poang-efter-uppmaningen-rosta-taktiskt/

The specific quote in Swedish: “Tv-tittarna i tidigare östra rikshalvan gav nämligen Sverige noll(!) poäng under Eurovisionfinalen på lördagen.”

Translation: “TV viewers in [our] kingdom’s previous eastern half gave namely zero(!) points to Sweden during the Eurovision finale on Saturday.”

Yeah, Johan Bratell (the writer of the article) is technically not wrong about Finland having been a part of Sweden. But why bring this up now? This was so clearly meant as a condescending insult.

The article also talks about a throwaway comment that the Finnish commentator Mikko Silvennoinen made about tactical voting (or more specifically, an anonymous comment he read out loud about tactical voting). From my understanding this was a joke reference to the previous elections which took place recently in Finland and forced a portion of the Finnish public to vote tactically as an attempt to block a far-right party from getting into the parliament. It’s embarrassing how much these people are reaching.

And even if they were voting tactically, so what? Sweden won. Why are we so focused on the public vote of one (1) country, Jesus Christ this is embarrassing.

EDIT 2: WHY THIS MATTERS. A LOT.

For those of you who are not in the know about Swedish politics, these statements are reflecting some far-right political views that have their roots all the way back in the times when Sweden ruled over Finland. In recent memory, our far-right political party Sverigedemokraterna claimed that the Swedish minority group Tornedalians are not Swedish, because they may speak local dialects that blend Finnish into Swedish, or speak the minority language Meänkieli. Coincidentally, Meänkieli just so happens to be a minority language that blends Finnish and Swedish, as it is mostly spoken by people who live by the Torneå river, i.e. the Finnish-Swedish border. Here’s an article about this controversy (however you may not be able to read it unless you’re subscribed to said newspaper): https://www.dn.se/asikt/orimligt-att-tornedalingar-inte-skulle-vara-svenskar/?fbclid=IwAR33K_UVRhXlJhyPd3gY7GDXN_lotUdrtM1AeL-nRzWE26Tmq5BFE0lIUzw

Sverigedemokraterna also believe that the Swedish minority group of Sweden Finns should essentially cut their ties to their Finnish roots and that they should not be able to be citizens of both Finland and Sweden. https://aip.nu/sverigedemokraterna-och-de-dubbla-medborgarskapen/

This sort of rhetoric is ridiculously common here, and in situations like the ones that have occurred in light of the ESC, they almost never get called out. Because it’s common. Because it’s okay to call Finnish people names and to use colonial rhetoric against all Finns, both those who live in Finland and those who live in Sweden. Because this is “friendly banter.” Mind you, as someone who technically belongs to both of the aforementioned minority groups I’m completely fine with the actually friendly banter and piss taking that we usually partake in, because it is just that. Friendly. But this is not it. This is actually harmful. I have never seen so many Swedish people attacking Finns on social media as I’ve seen these past few days. The usual colonialistic and fennophobic insults have started to rear their ugly heads: People have started to insult the Finnish language (a fennophobic sentiment that goes way back to the days when Finland was under Swedish rule and the Swedish tried to get rid of the language), they have started to insult the way Finns look (goes back to fennophobic rhetoric of Finns essentially not being “white enough”), etcetera. For more information on how the Swedish government treated the Sweden Finns and Tornedalians (the fact that they tried to abolish both the Meänkieli language and the Finnish language from Sweden and have even done skull measurements as an attempt to prove that these minority groups are not equal to Swedes), here’s another article: https://www.svt.se/nyheter/lokalt/norrbotten/regeringen-tillsatter-sanningskommission

For those of you who speak Finnish and are interested in the topic, the book Kansankodin pimeämpi puoli by Tapio Tamminen goes into both issues, with photographic evidence of skull measurement incidents among other things. Meanwhile, the Finnish media is mostly just reporting on the tomfoolery of these “journalists.” Sure, there are a lot of Finns who are acting out as well and spreading hateful rhetoric against Swedes, but the difference here is that one group is punching up, while the other is punching down.

Whether Tobbe Ek, Jenny Ågren, Markus Larsson and Johan Bratell meant to cause this does not matter. They’ve still done it, in the case of the former group, they’ve even dragged other Europeans (and Australians!) into this mess.

They’ve gone ahead and spread fennophobic rhetoric on huge platforms: Sweden’s biggest national tabloids. They should be held accountable for this.

To reiterate: ALL THIS OVER THE FINNISH PUBLIC “NOT VOTING FOR SWEDEN” DURING THE EUROVISION SONG CONTEST OF 2023.

Edit 3: Just in case we need a bit of clarification:

I know this whole post may come across quite negatively. So let me make this clear: There is an issue with the Swedish culture and its normalisation of fennophobia, however, that doesn’t mean every Swede is maliciously fennophobic. It’s literally just so normalised here, that sometimes people don’t even notice when they’re partaking in it, and because of said normalisation, for many these fennophobic and colonialist insults have become a sort of knee jerk reaction to when there’s “actual beef” with Finland. (Which, obviously, is a fucking problem, because look who has to bear the brunt of that.) 

Moreover, many Swedes aren’t even familiar with their shared history with Finland, and the discrimination Finland was put through during the Swedish rule (not to mention the discrimination the Sweden Finns and Tornedalians have had to face and still face). That part of our shared history simply isn’t taught in schools here, so a regular person would have to know to go out and look for the information. Heck, the only reason I’m aware of this is because at the end of the day, despite having been born and raised in Sweden, I am ethnically Finnish, and grew up by the border with very strong ties to the Finnish culture because of it. But less about me, and more about this issue. Most Swedes (and Swedish journalists who have any sort of sense in them and who work for respectable publications) have expressed their dissatisfaction with this years results as well. There’s a reason Cha Cha Cha is charting so well on Swedish Spotify. There’s a reason for why the Swedish jury and the public gave Finland 12 points.

So, Tl;dr:

1. Swedish tabloids are trash.

2. We have an undeniable problem with how normalised fennophobia is here, and it’s absolutely bizarre that this is how it’s getting exposed.

3. Most regular Swedes aren’t happy with this either, and are in fact not Finland’s and the Finnish people’s greatest haters in the world.

4. Tobbe Ek should get fired. At the bare minimun, he and his coworkers should probably issue some sort of apology for spreading this, seeing how it is actually hurting a lot of people.

Anyway, please don’t hate on the Swedes because of this lol, think about what Jere from Vantaa would think about that. 💚

[emojellyace08]

Hiii! I love the way you write and I was wondering if I could make a request (only if you want)

So how about the lookism boys reaction to an extremely beautiful and ethereal fem!reader who is like so feminine and ethereal she looks like a princess from a fairytale and even animals love her??

Anyways remember to stay safe and healthy!!

Lookism Men x Stunning Fem! Reader

Hiii Thanks for the request @jejegilipollas! This kind of reminds me of a Disney Princess reader! I'll be doing headcannons for almost every Lookism Men so I wouldn't leave out who you actually simp for xD. And remember all of us are really pretty in our on ways and we're all equal. And stay safe and healthy too! Warnings: insecurities, mentions of trauma, mature themes for the bottom/second part Genre: fluff ☁️ angst 🥀, slight lemon/smut 🍋 slight crack (comedy)🧨 ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Daniel Park/Jay Hong/Zack Lee/Vasco/Eli Jang/Warren Chae/Jerry Kwon/Johan Seong/Jake Kim/Sinu Han/Duke Pyeon/Jace Park/Line Man/Brad Lee/Jiho Park/Magami Kenta/Young Jinyoung Park/Young Gapryong Kim/Jichang Kwak/Taesoo Ma/Xiaoleoung/Jihan Kwak/Jibeom Kwak/Yuseong

He doesn't really prioritize having a "Goddess or too good to be true looking girlfriend" since he already has lots of trauma and he's been really stressful lately. So having a dependable, trust-worthy, and helpful partner is enough for him.

But when he saw you, a transferee student/staff on his school/working place he couldn't stop staring at you. He may look like a creep so when you turn in his direction, so he'll look away pretty fast. But you took notice of this and knowing your friendly personality and warm vibes, you thought befriending him isn't a bad idea.

So when you approached him, he couldn't help but to blush and be awkward around you. He thinks that you're too good for him and he's out of your league. Your smart, pretty, kind, you name it. Because of his insecurities getting in his way, he doesn't really know if he even deserves to stay beside you. But after getting to know you better, you're not really a judgmental person and you're always staying beside him even when things aren't really going well for him. So he really learned how to trust you more.

He's also the type to innocently admire your beauty. He'll definitely shower you with lots of pure compliments! "Hi Y/N!" "Oh hello." you greeted him back with a soft voice as he noticed your hair tied in a different hair style since you often let your hair be loose down. "Your hair looks pretty today." he complimented you while rubbing his nape feeling shy. "Oh really? Thank you!" you smiled back at him, you've been feeling down lately because of your pretty privilege making you insecure. But his compliments just makes your day better. "Yeah, no problem."

You may not know it but it's obvious that he's an animal lover. And he always adopts or feed stray pups and kittens who either lost their way or have gotten abandoned by their animal parent or owner. So you asked him about this and he seems pretty flustered when you brought about the topic and you couldn't help but to giggle at his reaction. Oh God, your voice sounds so pretty. He really can't help but to admire you even more. He just really can't help but to compliment you a lot though you can hear the shy and bashful tone beneath his voice.

So when you're walking home after school/work, you saw a little kitten crying near the road. You decided to gently approach the animal since it can get hurt by a vehicle if you just let it be. You called for it's attention with a sweet voice. And unexpectedly, the cute furball didn't hesitate to rub her body on your leg making you chuckle. "You found a stray kitten?" you heard a familiar voice as you turned around to see that it's just him making you sigh. "Jesus, you scared me" you replied back as he softly chuckled and squatted down beside you making sure that he wouldn't scare the kitten away. "Shh, don't worry little one he's a nice guy" you cooed as he was shocked at your statement. Him? A nice guy? He couldn't help but frown thinking about the things he have done and the names people called him. He feels like you're too good for him, yet you're like a fire in a cold snowy weather. It may seems like your warm feeling can hurt him, but it's in fact the opposite. You made him feel, what's the word. Relaxed? Comfortable? He doesn't really know as he couldn't stay away from you no matter how many times he tried.

"So umm..." "Yes?" you asked him in a sweet tone as he tried completing his sentence, he couldn't help but stutter since he's been hiding his true feelings for you for a long time now. "I have pet food on my house, would you mind if we take her home?" he requested as your eyes sparkled. "Really? Sure! I was also planning to buy her food since it looks like she hasn't been fed for days." "Okay, but do you think you can carry her? Stray cats may have rabies if you got bitten y'know" he reminded you as you chuckled once again. "Don't worry. She let me touch her and it seems like she's getting used with my presence" "Sure. Let's go now" he stood up as you picked the little kitty on your warm arms. "So what will you name her?" he asked on his way home as you followed next to him. "Meowy!" (Chainsaw Man reference lol) "Meowy?" "Yeah. I couldn't think of a cool name. And when I saw her she didn't even hesitate to greet me, so I think Meowy will be her name" you stated as he can still see the light behind your eyes (MCR reference lol) as you petted the animal already felling asleep. He smiled at you as he thought how not only how beautiful you are, you also have a good heart. "Meowy is a pretty name. You should keep it" he replied back as you smiled at him and continued to thank him for helping you out on taking care of the little kitten. Can he just enjoy this moment with you? He have forgotten the danger outside the world as he has the desire to protect you. You really are his sunshine.

Gun Park/Samuel Seo/James Lee or DG/Magami Kenta/Hudson Ahn/Vin Ho Bin(Vin Jin)/Cheong Taejin/Mandeok/Olly Wang/Jiho Park (villain arc)

For the most part, he's not the type to be looking for a date unlike the others. He's not a hopeless romantic.

Though if he founds someone attractive he can't help himself to do the fling with them, releasing his stress on someone while making himself feel good. Yep, he's only fucking someone just so he can pleasure himself. Nothing more and nothing less.

But he can't help but to curious the moment he laid his eyes on you. You're cute to be honest, he won't deny that. You look and act so fragile, innocent most likely. You're also very gentle, sweet and passionate. Contrasting his wild and bold side. He's like a wild animal. He's harsh, aggressive and cold. He never has the desire to be involved on a romantic relationship. He finds the idea of it cringy to be honest. He finds it making him vulnerable. And he finds the idea of having a soft spot on someone well what's the word, to be honest he can't put words on the idea of it.

He does wonder sometimes if he actually lived a decent life, but that doesn't mean that he has regrets of becoming who he is today. He's strong and he can handle things on his own which makes him proud of himself. But hearing it from you and showering him with pure and genuine compliments sounds and feel very different. "Wow! You're so cool and strong!" you stated as your eyes sparkled like little stars on the dark, starry night. He smirked at this, he must admit that you look so innocent and if you continued to act like this, he wouldn't hesitate to give you a kiss if he's more affectionate. "Well I know" he simply replied. Thinking about this moments make his head ache and his stomach grumble. It's not because he's sick, but is it because of what most called butterflies? He chuckled at the thought of it. It's useless. He doesn't need anybody let alone a girl, but he'll often look for your presence when you and him are away for each other even if it's not a very long time.

And it makes him wonder why do you always stay on his side. You and him are too different. You actually lived a decent and peaceful life with a healthy environment, unlike him who's always surrounded by thugs and who's often obsessed with money, power, drugs, alcohol and sex. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he does like you. That's why he's always pushing you away. He doesn't want you to get hurt. And he'll definitely kicked someone's ass if they ever tried to lay their hands on you.

"Hey," he called for your attention as you looked at him with those doe-like eyes. His voice sounds a bit harsh and demanding, but after getting to know him better and getting close to him you know that he's just like that to everybody. And you know that he actually doesn't mean it to be like that. "Yes?" you asked him softly as he made eye-contact. "Why do you always stay next to me?" he asked curiously as it made you slightly upset to be honest. Does he think of you as a burden? Are you annoying? Well despite you always getting compliments from other people about how you look like a princess or Goddess that popped on a fairy tail and given life, you're actually insecure about yourself. Your gentle and feminine side can be annoying to some. You can't help but to feel like a little child that always needed to be protected and taken care of. And you often cared too much about others making you a people pleaser. "What do you mean?" you chuckled trying to hide your distress but he took notice of this. He doesn't mean to be rude, he sighed as he reconstructed his statement since you misunderstood it in the wrong way. "I mean, why do you stay beside me? You can get hurt you know?" he stated as your eyes sparkled once again. "Ahh, you mean in that way?" "Yeah." "Well, because you're really nice!" you honestly answered as he was shocked by your response. Really? Most people viewed him as an asshole for beating them up for his work. "You're joking right?" "Why do you think I'm joking? You're strong, kind well in some times, and you actually protected me when I need help." you smiled at him once again as he looked from a different direction trying to hide his blush. So far, that's the most genuine compliment he got from someone else.

And he also took notice of how gentle you are with animals. Not only you help out other people, but also those street kittens and pups that randomly pop up on streets. He just finds owning a pet a bit stressful since he already has lots of responsibility in his shoulders. "PLEASE CAN WE ADOPT HIM!" you pleaded as you cling on his arms making him groan. "No." "WHY!" "Well, I can't take care of it and I don't want to." he answered honestly but in a brutal way making you frown. If you have dog ears right now it will droop down and your eyes got bigger again like you're about to cry. "Please? I'll take care of it..." you put your hands together begging as he stares at you. He honestly find it cringy since he doesn't know if you're doing that on purpose or if you're just too soft. Not being able to stop you, he sighed. "Fine, but don't ask me to be his babysitter." he looked away as you smiled once again. "C'mon just tell me that you also find him cute!" "Shut up..." he may sound rude, but you can see that little smirk forming on his lips.

Goo Kim/Jake Kim/Kuroda Ryuhei/Yoojin/Sinu Han

This men will be a 100% simp for you (especially Goo and Ryuhei). He just founds you really hot, cute and pretty! Well you name it.

In some levels, they do care about their partner's appearance (remember having preferences are not bad ladies and gentle man). But they actually do not belittle others who are not their taste especially women since for the most part. He's a gentleman (or he tries to be).

To be honest, they're just secretly horny lmao. Remember they're still men so having a partner with a beautiful face and body just makes him worked up. Like, you don't have a right to be this pretty (he just praises you at this point).

But he does know deep inside that looks are not just a fundamental in having a partner. He does care about personality. He just honestly can't stand women who looks hot but just acts annoying and bitchy most of the time. It turns him off the most. But meeting you is one of the best blessing he have. Not only you look like a deity, but you also act like one. He just thought you're an angel who fell from the sky, in this hellish place called Earth. Did God sent you for him? Is life not finally being an ass to him? Who knows.

He'll also compliment you 24/7. Like his mouth just wouldn't stop talking about you. Like, in some levels you kind of find it annoying especially if you're the quiet one. You also probably thought at first that he's a perv but he's just being honest and appreciative! So you just brushed it off and you actually started appreciating his comments about you since it's not harming you in anyways. In fact it also boosts your confidence even more. "Y/N do you know how pretty you are?" he teased just to get a reaction out of you (and he also likes making you smile H:LKHDL:KHAL:KFH:LDKHA) "Of course I do" you smirked as you played along with him. "Well you actually look like a koala" "HEY THAT'S RUDE!" you stated as he laughed at your reaction "BUT KOALAS ARE CUTE!".

He also finds it adorable when you adopt stray animals. He just finds you "waifu material" girl. He also fantasizes about adopting 5 kittens or puppies with you and living on a peaceful and small town. You know, just the normal couple living their best life. Though he wouldn't be open about it since he finds it lowkey embarrassing lmao. "BABE! I FOUND A KITTEN ON A STREET!" "C'mon Y/N it's the fifth time you adopted a cat. Are you making an orphanage out of animals?" he teased as your kitten named Pebbles cling into him like a toddler begging for his dad's attention. "Please? I already have a name for her" you pleaded as he sighed knowing that he can't stop your motherly behavior with animals and besides he finds the cat cute too, it's a pure white kitten with blue sapphire like eyes. "What's her name though?" he asked curiously as you smiled and named the cat Snow. "Why won't you name her Elsa?" "C'mon love you make too much jokes." you sighed trying not to laugh as he chuckled at your reaction. "I'm just kidding, besides Snow's a really fitting name." he gently picked the cat on your arms and petting it. He just finds you daring. You're more than just your looks and he finds that fascinating :3.

A/N: I hope you really like it! It's kind of rushed yet late lmao. And I'm more of a cat person than a dog person but I still hoped you liked it!

[nightangle9]

hii! I just found out about your blog, and you do write about Johan (monster), so could you do a smut fic about him and f!reader

thank you!!

~Foreordain~ (Part-1)

Johan Liebert x Inexperienced! fem reader

Genre: Oneshot Series & Smut

Warning: manipulation, very toxic behaviour, sexual content, dirty talk, fingering

Word Count: 2.3k

Writer's Note: Sorry this took so long ᴖ̈

Wisterias burn around you as you look at the man in front of you. What… could have let for this to happen. Hearts connected to stow are now shattered with just one go. Mind hypnotized by the monster, the demon, the ferocity. You still longed for him, after all that...you still did. You loved him, you really did. But this was meant to happen from the moment you saw him, your fate was decided. It was Foreordain.

~10 MONTHS BEFORE~

You despised monsoons. Insects, dirt, mud, everything. Other than one thing. The smell. The smell of monsoon was like a drug to you. Every time it filled your nostrils, it gave you a feeling of Euphoria. Nothing could’ve matched that smell until you walked past him.

Light blonde hair, pale skin, and handsome features glistened with the dawn of the day. He simply looked so…angelic. So, you stopped, stopped in your tracks, and just looked at him. How seraphic, you thought. Then he turned and looked at you. Just when you thought that he couldn’t get even more beautiful. You saw his blue eyes. Those ethereal and divine blue eyes. And they looked at you. But…something about those eyes scared you just as much as they attracted you. They just looked so…lifeless.

“Is there something wrong, miss?” he spoke, his voice so soft and gentle. And you blushed, of course you did. “N-no, I-it’s nothing!” You spoke in a flustered tone, still lost for words. He came closer to you, only a few inches between. His smell. Oh, he smelt so good…so damn intoxicating.

“Then why is that, you’re so flustered, miss?” he spoke in that soft voice of his, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Blue eyes scrutinizing your face. Looking for something…anything. And just for a mere second, you swear your life. He smirked. It was slight, only appearing for a second. But it made your heart stop beating for a moment.

He pulled out a pen from the breast pocket of his coat and then gently took hold of your hand. “May I?” he whispered. The question was so simple but you were too hypnotized by his charm to reply, so you just nodded.

He wrote his number on the palm of your hand, his movements smooth. There was no hesitation or awkwardness. He was just so effortless even with these simple gestures, that it was alluring to just observe and look at him.

“What is your name, miss?” he whispered in your ear, leaning closer. Blushing profusely, you could only answer him in a breathy voice, saying your name. “W-what about you, what is it…w-what is your name?” you spoke quietly. And you notice, how his eyes darkened at your simple question. But it quickly vanished, and he smiled at you, so soft and gentle. “Liebert…Johan Liebert.” How tempting.

~AT NIGHT~

Later that night, you called him. “H-hello?” you spoke in a questioning manner, even though you knew who was on the other end. “Good evening, Miss Y/N. Missing me already now, are you?” He spoke from the other side of the call. His voice like always, so soft and sweet. Your breath hitched at the question, gulping, you spoke. “I guess so. S-so what about tomorrow…are you free tomorrow evening?” you asked biting your lip slightly in nervousness. You heard Johan chuckle through the phone. Then he spoke, his voice was normal but still…you felt it. That slight seductiveness. “Why...you want to ask me out on a date?” you felt your cheeks blush at his tone and question, but you quickly replied. Trying to maintain your composure. “M-maybe, I do.” Then he spoke again, his voice even more seductive and tempting. “Oh, is that so? Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind going on a date with a lady as beautiful as you. So how about you be the boss, and decide the time and I’ll take the honor of assisting and taking you to a nice place.” Goodness, this guy knew exactly how to raise your heartbeat. “Y-yeah, sure…sure. How about tomorrow evening at 7 pm?” you asked, crossing your fingers in hope. “Sounds good to me…You can send me your address. So, I’ll be able to pick you up from your house.” He said sweetly.  “P-pick?! I can come by myself.” You spoke, surprised at his request. Nobody has ever picked you from your house, its not exactly safe to tell people your address. It seemed almost…suspicious.

“I don’t think so…a woman like you deserves nothing below the utmost treatment. It would be an insult to you if I don’t give you best” he spoke gently…his gentle voice suddenly becoming slightly deeper and smoother. “Or perhaps you haven’t experienced being treated that way? Do you want others to find out the kind of treatment you’ve received from men till now? I’m sure you’d be embarrassed if that happens…Your friends would start treating you like an inferior person. Or maybe they already have. Well, all I'm doing is suggesting an idea.” You felt him smile through the phone, his tone shifting slightly. You were left speechless, every word of his cut you deep inside. Almost as if he knew everything about you. You always had bad experience with men, you never were the type of person to had a lot of relationships and experience. This made you insecure around your friends, who were either in a long-term relationship or at least had some experience. Whereas you were shy and nervous making you never really approach people from front especially for a relationship. You let out a deep breath as you realized his care and kindness towards you. He was so perfect…such a gentleman. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll send you my house address.” You said with a smile. “Thank you, Y/N, you truly are the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met…Goodbye then. We’ll meet tomorrow.” He spoke sweetly, as you felt him smile through the phone. “Goodbye.” You whispered as you ended the call. Tomorrow was going to be a great day.

~NEXT DAY~

The anticipation of meeting him had a chokehold on you for the whole day. You wanted to look your best, dress your best, smell your best, talk your best, just be your best for him. Or you could say his…approval. You didn’t know how, but you felt the need to prove yourself in front of him. Show him that calling you the most wonderful woman he had ever encountered was not a mistake. So, you did…well you tried more so.

Starting the day by going to a spa, a salon, a manicure & pedicure center. You did it all. Going as far as to buy new clothes. A pleated black skirt and a silk red top with matching black Louis Vuitton heels. God, you were excited. Wondering how he may look? Well, it didn’t matter anyway. Even if he showed up wearing a potato sack, he would still look good anyways.

The time came, sitting on your couch. All readied up for him. Staring at the wall, zoned out. The sound of your doorbell ringing suddenly reached your ears. Instinctively standing up, you panicked. Thoughts swarming in your head like goldfish in a pond. Then, it rang again. Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your dress and looked at yourself in the mirror for the last time. All perfect.

“Good evening.” He greeted you in that oh-so-soft voice of his after you opened your front door. “G-good evening.” You stuttered after you saw him. Dressed in an all-black suit. He just looked so elegant and gorgeous. You checked him out in secret. Damn, how can someone be so beautiful? He felt more like an angel than a human. Taking your hand in his, he kissed it softly. A faint blush appeared on your cheeks as he did so. “Shall we go?” he whispered, softly. Speechless, all you could do was nod.

The date was the best one you ever had. Every word he spoke, every touch he implanted, every look he gave made you put in a spell. A spell you cannot resist, becoming automatically submissive to his voice. And the way he touched you in an almost teasing manner. Leaving you hanging between threads longing for more, in a wonder of what he can offer. And the way he looked at you, seductive yet with a softness to his sapphire eyes. You didn’t even know when it happened, at what time it happened, but now you were left aroused. Wetness smirching your red panties. Something that Johan was seemingly unaware of.

“Shall we head somewhere else?” He asked smiling softly, holding your hand as you walk along a bridge. “Sure!” you said with a sweet smile on your face.

The moonlight glistened in the dark sky suffused with stars as you stepped inside the medieval-themed hotel. You looked around the hotel’s lobby as Johan booked a room for both of you. “Let’s go.” He smiled, putting his arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer. You looked down, blushing as you, both walked inside the elevator. “So have you ever been to a hotel with a man before?” he asked. “I-I haven’t” you muttered, embarrassed of yourself. “Then, may I have the honor of accompanying such a beautiful lady?” he whispered, voice almost seductive as he inched his face closer to yours. “Please.” You whispered back, licking your lower lip slightly. Hands that were earlier pulling you closer now caressed your neck, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He pulled in for a kiss. Starting slow now turned passionate. Desperate. Hungry. Desirous. He kissed you with every being of him. A man has now finally found the thing to cease his thirst. Breaking the kiss first, you were left longing for air. As you met his eyes, you felt that lust and greed oozing from the almost perfect man in your presence.

A small ‘ting’ sound awoke you from your lost state. You arrived on the 17th floor of the hotel, where your room was stationed. As you got out of the elevator and started looking around the floor, suddenly you felt Johan hug you from behind. His pale arms wrapped around your torso, as he whispered so seductively, so quietly in your ear. “Why don’t we continue this somewhere private, love?” …. Love?! You genuinely thought at that moment you would’ve melted in his arms. Face flushed profusely at his ‘innocent’ request, you nodded.

Getting inside the room, the first thing he did was lock the door while you sat on the edge of the bed, oh-so-flustered by the situation. Your breathing got slightly heavy as he started walking towards you slowly, his eyes almost having a predatory look in them. Crouching on the floor in front of you, he started to take off your heels. “W-what are you doing?” you asked softly, almost breathless from the anticipation. “Taking care of you sweetheart.” He replied as he stood up in Infront of you, his hand coming to hold your chin in a gentle but firm manner as he inched closer to your face and whispered in a subtle voice. “That’s what I’m doing.” Oh….

Holding your face in the gentleness of his palms, he inched his face closer to yours. Finally letting go of the boundaries between you two, his lips crashed into the softness of yours as his hand caressed the back of your neck. An intimate movement lasting for eternity to your heart and soul. The softness, the wetness, the desperation, and the anticipation all crashed down to land onto one prominence of time. Opening your eyes slowly almost in an allured state you looked through them as he kissed you. His hand coming down to unzip your top. His touch, was like that of a feather, light but leaving goosebumps all over your skin.

After taking off the scrapes of clothing from your body, he laid you down on the soft mattress of the bed. “Are you nervous?” he whispered seductively in your ear, placing delicate kisses all over your neck and collarbone. Your heavy breath hitched as you avoided eye contact with him, cheeks flushed from embarrassment mixed with arousal. “N-no..” you whispered, flustered. “Yes, you are. You shouldn’t lie. It’s not a good habit.” He spoke in a smooth tone, all while looking deeply into your eyes. His other hand came to grope your breast, making you whimper in his embrace. “Good girls don’t lie.” His long fingers traced patterns on the skin of your inner thigh, and slowly but surely those long fingers sunk into the very place they had the purpose for. He slowly started by rubbing gentle circles on top of your puffy clit, and when he felt the wetness trail down your thighs that he approved of, he sinks his fingers deep inside you. All while his mouth abused the sensitive bud of your breast. Biting, licking, sucking. “Understood?” he said in an almost demanding voice, to which all you could do was whimper a nod. Overwhelmed by the pleasure caused by him on your delicate body.

He increased the pace of his hand, as his long fingers inside you constantly brushed against your g-spot, making you cry in pleasure. Moans and whimpers escaped from your pretty mouth like a chant. One hand gripped the soft mattress beneath you while the other gripped the soft blonde hair of his.

“J-Johan~” you moaned in a high-pitched voice, lip quivering from crying as your orgasm finally hit you. The tight knot in your stomach now clutching open. He took his wet fingers out of you, looking at you with a slight smirk. “Woah, aren’t you sensitive…”

“You did well.” he said, smiling softly as he cuddled you up in his arms for the night.

Waking up with a slight pain in your lower stomach, you grumpily got up, stretching yourself. You felt something missing.

“Johan?”

[meowmeowmessi]

i miss when barça and the club's fanbase was full of anarcho communists

[marune2]

Original Au idea /cry of shadow 5

We see how Heinrich go whit Grimm in the HQ from military

Grimm: I’m sorry Heinrich this it came how it came……

Heinrich:you sorry bring my nothing right now old Mann but at least pfang you………

Grimm smile just sadly

Grimm:we’re are here now Heinrich the other know abaut you presents now

Heinrich:yay……..

Grimm: whit you your are fifth people now captain rose take care of you

Heinrich got’s interested wo he hear the name

Heinrich:No way it’s the guy wo got’s infect whit the devil morio bacteria?

Grimm:yes he is this he is this closes too what you are but just he looks human if you looks away from his horns tail and wings if he show you as fare I read in the book from Germain have you and he in some part the same biological reaction

Heinrich: Ok? Sound nice……“he looks a bit nervous

Then come they in a room wo started a tail blond guy wo looks like 31 jears old

Blond Mann?: Ah sir Grimm this is Heinrich as fare I see“looks chill but genuinely interested at Heinrich

Grimm: yes he is I give you all info’s you will need this you now don’t have say hello Heinrich this is captain rose

Heinrich looks at rose

Heinrich:hello captain rose „looks not happy

Rose:sure child welcome in my group I will bring you in you one room it’s will completely yours from now on

Heinrich:……..sure captain rose………

Captain rose : what happened too this child? Na we can talk after I bring him too his room sir Grimm

Grimm:sure captain rose

———————-

Rose:this is you room from now on

They are in a big room whit a big bed and desk and a wardrobe

Heinrich:sure pfang you…….“looks unsure and sniff araund the room

Rose: I’m gonna go now I will come after a wile back and then show you the other of ur group

Heinrich: sure captain rose „go in he’s room and looks more araund and he’s tail waging araund

Then close Rose the door

Heinrich trow himself on the bed it’s big and soft

Heinrich:……….(It’s big…….Johan Mephisto I miss your I wana go home just make my stuff and want just talk whit both of you again)tush he and cry

Heinrich: stupid Body…….“looks at him self and grab he’s tail and brush it it’s soft and strong at the same time………..

Heinrich:what the hell I’m even I looks like a woman devil cat birt ore what ever……stupid piss of fuc€ing shit go to hell whit all of this……….

[internetskiff]

I've sometimes seen this sentiment, especially among reviewers, that SOMA's WAU ""monster plot"" contributes nothing to the main game's story, and that the storyline would infact benefit from the WAU's removal. If you ask me, that couldn't be further from the truth. The WAU is at the root of everything. Frankly, it's the main reason the game's moral dilemmas are.. well, dilemmas at all. If the WAU wasn't making monsters, wasn't there to warp the life around Pathos-II as it saw fit, the game wouldn't have even started. Pathos-II would've just remained dormant forever. Simon wouldn't be there, and neither would any of the obstacles he faces on his journey to preserve humanity. The main reason the WAU isn't directly beneficial to Earth is exactly because its understanding of "life" is so skewed. Its not just bringing things back - its bringing them back incorrectly. Every single "monster" we meet builds a case both against and for the WAU's continued existence.

The Construct shows the WAU's failure to understand humanity in the physical sense, shoving a Human brain scan into a misshapen robot body and calling it a day, leaving it to babble to itself as it aimlessly wanders the halls of Upsilon.

The same could be said for Carl Semken and the other Mockingbirds, though to a lesser degree - though capable of speech, they're still very delusional and oftentimes end up going insane. Still, in some ways you see the WAU's understanding of human psychology progress with each new mockingbird - they become increasingly coherent and increasingly sane, Catherine and Robin Bass being great examples. While the Construct has lost so much of itself you can no longer tell who it used to be, the other Mockingbirds have their sense of self intact. With the WAU's unreliable nature cemented, we move on to its attempts at preserving humans physically, with Amy Azarro being the first proper example Simon gets to witness.

She's kept alive in what seems to be a perpetual state of discomfort, and judging by the structure gel slowly overtaking her I believe the WAU may be slowly converting her into one of the Fleshers. Its keeping her alive, yes, but its doing so at any cost necessary - it doesn't matter if she's in constant pain as long as she doesn't flatline. Its treatment of actual organisms is practically an inversion of its treatment of the Mockingbirds - instead of prioritizing the mental wellbeing of the subject, the WAU prioritizes their physical wellbeing with little to no care for the mental state its "patient" is in the entire time.

Fleshers live and breathe, but they seemingly aren't "all there" at all. The lights are on, but no one's home anymore. All they do is wander the ruins of the CURIE and lash out at anyone who enters their territory - the WAU has basically reduced them to animals.

Terry's been driven insane from all the structure gel infesting his insides, and though his goal was "technically" benevolent (putting everyone into a permanent dream state where the WAU could make them live the best possible versions of their lives), he achieved it through incredibly violent means, conducting what was basically an attack on Theta and causing its downfall. So far, its attempts at preserving humans physically have simply resulted in increasingly grotesque and violent monstrosities - but I would argue you see that begin to change when Simon reaches Omicron.

When you reach it, you see the aftermath of a particularly gruesome procedure WAU had carried out - everyone's blackboxes have exploded, turning their heads to mush. We find out that one of the employees, with the help of someone particularly close to the WAU, had figured out how to poison it. They have been receiving "visions" and "messages" from a comatose Johan Ross - the WAU's "AI psychologist", someone it desperately tried to restore from a comatose state by manipulating structure gel with electromagnetic fields. Either the WAU deliberately retaliated when it figured out the poisoning plot, or it had simply overdone it when restoring Johan Ross - sacrificing an entire station's worth of lives to bring someone back. Either way this shows a tremendous amount of intelligence on the WAU's part - and also paints it as either exceptionally cruel or exceptionally empathetic depending on the perspective you view it from. Either it considered Johan so important to it that it was willing to sacrifice most Omicron staff, or it was willing to violently retaliate in order to preserve itself. Either way, Omicron houses what I believe to be a sign of the WAU's steadily improving understanding of humanity - Dr. Johan Ross.

He has been restored with both his physical health and mental faculties (relatively) intact. He isn't violent, and he perfectly understands what condition he is currently in - but despite that he doesn't seem to be physically suffering. He is still driven to eliminate the WAU, but it seems to be less out of personal suffering and more out of fear in regards to the suffering its other creations may go through. I believe he's an example of a semi-perfectly restored human - both him and Simon himself. They're both cases of, as Catherine puts it, "a sound mind in a sound body". But although the signs are there, there is no outright definitive proof that the WAU's creations will only continue to get better.

And that's what makes the game's final moral dilemma so compelling to me. The whole game has been providing us with both evidence and counterevidence towards the WAU's idea of restoring humanity. Now, it's up to you to act as its jury and executioner. By killing it you either stop it from torturing the memory of humanity, or you doom humanity to extinction in all senses of the word. By keeping it alive, you either doom the remnants of humanity to an eternal torturous existence, or you give the WAU a chance at creating something new. There is no way of knowing what choice is correct - because you don't know what the WAU is thinking. You never get to. You don't know its plans, you don't know if it even has the capacity to actually learn from its mistakes, hell, you don't even know if its capable of thought - but here it is. Making things. Terrible things, but there's a chance that it'll only get better with time. Simon himself is evidence of that chance. It has already managed to make what could be classified as a "complete" person. And if you kill it, Simon's going to be the last "complete" person it managed to bring back.

[suusoh]

"Johan would be a gross kisser. Change my mind."

FACTS. I feel like him feeling human emotions really makes him sloppy at romantic interactions and borderline needy at times. He's like catching up on things he had "lost" during him being a "nameless monster". Forgive him for being absurdly gross, it's his first shot at life after being ontologically dead for most of his existence. 😭

ontologically dead is such an accurate way of phrasing it I love it!! Like exactly!!! This is Johan's first try at being human. He's going to go through human experiences now in all the wrong, repressed, and ungraceful ways. Key word: ungraceful. Which is why Johan kissing you, like actually kissing you, after years of meaningless social interaction, is gonna be soooooooooooo messy and gross. He's gonna be like some hungry teenager with his first crush. THE most unrefined kissing you can think of. Smushing his face against you, pushing his lips towards yours a bit too hard, parting your mouth, tongue slipping in and rubbing against yours, and exploring everything so fully and deeply. He's exploring the missing parts of his humanity through all the little nooks and crannies of your mouth. I'm gonna be so gross here but it will feel like he's literally trying to clean your mouth out HFKLAHDJH forgive him. He just needs to leave no stone unturned okay. He wouldn't allow himself to part for just a second, even when you try to catch your breathe his lips don't leave yours, opened and catching in everything you're giving him. Your breathe, your spit, everything. You'd be inhaling each other at that point :/// sorry. It could be kinda hot at first? if you squint hard enough?? but as the kiss prolongs it feels less like a kiss and more like a dental checkup fhaskdfjl. This is his first time being human. Let him be messy, let him be ungraceful, let him be gross.

[gingiesworld]

The Scarlet Storm : Hydra Reborn

Chapter One

Taglist : @mothertoall2 @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @reginassweetheart @machyishere @gemz5 @pawiie @duckiekong (If you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

After Thanos was finally defeated. The world lost some heroes. Tony sacrificed himself, leaving behind his 5 year old daughter Morgan and wife Pepper.

Clint was the one who sacrificed himself. He finally beat Natasha at her own game. Leaving behind his wife and children.

The there was Vision. The one who gave his life, scarificing himself to stop Thanos from retrieving the stone. Only to have Wanda watch him die once more.

The world was working hard on mending itself. Bucky and Sam had disappeared to work on some case. Leaving Natasha, Wanda, Steve and Scott at the Avengers compound. Yelena was travelling, in hopes in helping people adjust again.

"Hey, are you ok?" Wanda asked Nat as she walked inside the meeting room. Seeing Nat looking for someone. Seeing a name on the screen. Y/N Romanoff. "I didn't know you had a daughter." Wanda stated only seeing the last picture that was ever took of Y/N. Back in Ohio

"Y/N is my sister." Nat said quietly. "Well she was. We were split up before Yelena and I were took into the Red Room. Y/N was taken somewhere else."

"So you want to try and find her?" Wanda asked her.

"I do." Nat said as she turned to face the witch. "But she hasn't surfaced since she disappeared. I hoped that with everyone being back, she may be one of them. She has this thing with her eye. Most of the kids used to call her a freak or a demon. She has this red line going through her left iris." 

"You don't think she could be, you know?" Wanda asked her sadly.

"That's what we were told when we were first taken in, but then Dreykov told me years ago that she was alive." Nat informed her. "He only said one name after that before he tried to escape. The Lightening Soldier."

"I remember that name." Wanda said as she used the computer. Typing in the name. A picture came up of a tall masked figure. The only name noted was the Alias they are known by. "Pietro used to tell me how they used to train him with his super speed and combat skills."

"They were experimented with an enhanced version of the super soldier serum. Also giving them super speed." Nat read from the file. "They have only been spotted a small amount of times."

"They get moved very often. Hydra didn't like to keep their most prized weapon stationary in the same place for too long." Wanda informed her. "Last known location, Russia. Five years ago." Wanda pointed at the screen.

"Do you think they could still be there?" Nat asked her. Wanda shrugged unsurely. "I just need to know for definite if my Y/N is still alive or not."

"We will." Wanda told her, the two coming up with a plan.

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

Y/N had been awoken from their cryofreeze slumber. Frozen in time for five years. Johan Schmitt's grandson, Alec Schmitt took over his plans with Hydra. Finding the unknown Hydra base in Russia. Coming across a chamber, the power was still surging through the base. Keeping the Cryochamber working. Keeping The Lightening Soldier in a frozen slumber.

He had read up on The Lightening Soldier. Knowing that she is the older sister of the Natasha Romanoff. Also that she doesn't remember a single thing about her life before Hydra. She doesn't remember her sisters.

He started the defrosting sequence. Hoping that The Lightening Soldier was still Hydra's property. Once the sequence was complete, the chamber hissed as the hydraulics to the door had finally been opened. After years of being locked.

Alec watched proudly as The Soldier opened her piercing blue eyes. Noticing their was a red line through her left iris.

"We have work to do." He told her with a smirk. "Hydra will be born again."

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

"So, let me get this straight." Steve started as the remaining Avengers stood in the briefing room. "You want to fly to Russia in hopes of finding your sister. Who may or may not be this Lightening Soldier."

"Yes. That is exactly what I want." Nat told him as she crossed her arms.

"And who is going with you to look for her?" Steve asked her.

"Me." Wanda said as she stood beside Nat. "I will go with her."

"Me too." Maria told him.

"Look, I understand that this is important to you." Steve started as Nat shook her head.

"Not just to me Steve. Yelena, Melina and Alexei." Nat told him. "We were all told that she died. Was killed during experimentation and now we have a real lead on her."

"So you think that this Lightening Soldier is Y/N?" He asked her.

"I do." Nat told him. "And I think she is in Russia but we will only find out if we go there ourselves."

"Ok. We'll leave at dawn." Steve told them all before walking out. The three girls glanced at each other.

"Did he just?" Nat asked as both Maria and Wanda nodded. "I can't believe it." Nat whispered. Looking at the two pictures. Her eyes staying on Y/N. The Y/N she remembers from when they were children.

"Are you going to tell Yelena?" Maria asked her as the three stood there.

"No." Nat told her. Turning around to face them both. "I think it's best to tell her after we find Y/N and bring her home."

The Avengers were coming up with a plan to find Y/N, while Alec was coming up with a new order. Bribing some SHIELD agents who were stationed in Russia. Using Y/N as a scare tactic to get them to fall in line.

Hydra was being reborn.

[yasminesboo]

Lookism chapter 514: little rant

This is stupid as fuck at this point, genuinely one of the worst lookism chapters i've read so far.

I've been here since 2020, I've felt a lot of things when reading lookism, excitement, giddiness, sadness, suspense but never have i ever felt actual "what the fuck is going on" rage ever while reading lookism.

Nothing in this whole "hunt for gun" arc makes sense, like literally nothing adds up. first we've got the ENTIRE verse assembling like the avengers to take down gun, like we're talking extras that haven't appeared in years. Then these seemingly amazing strong characters that went through so much character development and training arcs get the floor wiped with them, absolutely erasing all the progress they've made so far and get taken down within literally three panels. Not to mention how they deal fatal blows and this man hits super saiyan poses and gets up like nothing happened? Then he proceeds to randomly and casually plunging off a cliff above the mountain forest and lands on the highway in 0.00001 sec mid fight without taking any fall damage whatsoever and gets right back to swinging.

Anyways fast forward to the ridiculous fight he had with johan, which i find to be absolutely ridiculous johan should have 100% won that and the fight should'nt have been prolonged that much, not only was johan in perfect health and his vision was restored, but gun was also getting more and more "tired" and his state was pitiful. But SOMEHOW he still won that. Okay. Cool.

And now fast forward to today's chapter: gun's DUMBASS turns down goo's offer and now they're fighting. So naturally you'd expect gun to lose because goo is relatively equal (as stated multiple times by the narrative) to gun, and gun is in a pitiful state broken arm basically became a flesh and bones smoothie, not to mention his organs must have turned into slime from the amount of hits he has taken. His left eye is popped and bloodshot, his neck is sliced, he even has CLAW marks down his lower torso and forearm, excessive blood loss and nasty bruising everywhere... so obviously goo who is 100% in good shape and is proven to be a very powerful and impactful character will win right? Haha.

*internally screaming throwing up sobbing rolling on the floor in rage and despair*

HOW THE FUCK DID HE END UP ON THE FLOOR SQUISHED LIKE A BUG WITH A SWORD PIERCING THROUGH HIM???? The whole fight made me ENRAGED, i lost it when he blocked the sword with his mouth AND bit it off like are we sure we're still in a slice of life manhwa and not a horror one? I lost it even more when his mouth that was torn ear to ear because of the sword magically healed in the next panel like nothing happened, like that sword didn't just cut through his flesh. Speaking of swords cutting through flesh, how did goos sword sharp enough to cut through metal and concrete walls get stuck on his ankle? Dies this man have titanium bones or something?? How did the sword get stuck on the FLESH not even the bone itself. And the fact that he just walked it off again like nothing happened.. somehow goo only landed like two clean hits and gun magically dodged all the other ones.

Then PTJ proceeds to pull up the double suicide to end the fight in which BOTH goo and gun were stabbed but goo somehow is the one who ends up being squished on the floor like a bug.

This is unacceptable, idk wth ptj was expecting us to get hype after gun some fucking how is capable of weaseling himself out of every corner he's backed up to this is starting patterns that are very similar to jjk.. which i don't like at all. I'd like to say for the one billionth time again that PTJ writing gets progressively worse from the years, which only consists of stalling and dragging the arcs instead of moving on to other plot points, extreme plot armor, adding in an unbelievable number of minor characters, background characters, and extras just to neglect them after a few chapters. Some characters who supposedly were from the "main cast" were gone for YEARS dude, and the lacking female character writing (some may argue with this because it is true there are female characters that are badass and are really good written, but most are created only for the purpose of helping a certain male character with character development. Which he literally directly says on his author note for viral hit in which he says all the female characters form the main cast even the nurse were created for romantic interest, which is an insane thing to say.)

Anyhow, if you've read this far thank you for coming to my ted talk 😓. I know some things i said might be controversial but i just needed to let out some steam, because this is getting ridiculous. Everyone can see the pattern now like there is no way that he's so overpowered that the entirety of the verse wasn't able to take him down.

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: People Watching

Plot: The Greyhounds take another hit in Amsterdam, and a night out brings about revelation and realization for Y/n.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: language, discussion of child neglect

A/N: AMSTERDAM!! This is the one that really ties the whole thing together and sets up the rest of the series. I think it’s also my favorite so far. Very little of any other characters (sorry to my Jamie girls) but I promise it pays off ☺️

Enjoy!!

(Yes, this chapter is titled after the Conan Grey song. It fit too perfectly)

————————

The Amsterdam match, while not counting for anything, was a tremendous defeat.

The Greyhounds lost to Ajax, 5-0, unable to score a single goal against the Dutch. The boys hung on the field despondent, the home crowd booing and taunting them as loud as they could.

Y/n watched from the suite, seated between Keeley and Higgins, her eyes drifting across the crowd. Rivalry between fans had never bothered her, until Richmond had become her club. Now she was feeling every insult as if it were directed at her.

“Rebecca,” Marjolein, a high-up at AFC Ajax took the chair next to the blonde, “My apologies. Now, you’ve come all the way to Amsterdam and we at Ajax have been such rude hosts.”

The woman gestured to the scoreboard that the foursome couldn’t bear to do more than glance at.

“Marjolein, you’ve been more than gracious,” Rebecca replied, “Especially given the circumstances.”

The cruelty towards the Greyhounds had been particularly hard to handle because it all tied back to the golden boy. Zava. The signs, the banners, the cheers against them…without the prick, apparently AFC Richmond was worthless.

As the whistle blew, the match officially ended and the teams headed off the field. Y/n, Keeley, Higgins and Rebecca stood to their feet.

“Till next time,” Rebecca thanked and shook Marjolein’s hand. Keeley and Y/n followed suit.

“Truly was an honor to play here at the Johan Croyff Arena,” Higgins complimented.

Marjolein touched her hands to her chest, “No. The honor is ours completely. But it is pronounced Johan Cruijff.”

“Oh,” Higgins nodded, “Still.”

Left to themselves, the foursome listened to the stadium chant the words to Three Little Birds as it played over the speakers. Salt in the wound that was still actively bleeding.

“This song’s depressing,” Rebecca muttered before downing the last of her champagne.

Higgins gagged, his tell-tale sign that he was uncomfortable. Y/n put her hand on his shoulder and took it upon herself to lead the group out. When the boys came off the pitch, her job began.

Higgins, Keeley and Y/n went to the locker room, the two women waiting outside as Higgins collected who they needed.

“I hate him,” Y/n complained, leaned against a wall, staring up at the bright florescent lights, “I hope a storm comes through and just wrecks that avocado farm.”

Keeley managed a snort while pacing the hall, she was tense about something other than the match.

Y/n peeked over at her boss, “You good?”

“Yeah,” Keeley said quickly, picking at her nails a little before she stopped in front of Y/n, “I have something I need to tell you.”

Barely opening her mouth to ask what it was, Y/n was stopped by Higgins emerging from the locker room, Jan Maas and Roy in tow.

“Let’s get this over with,” Roy grunted, walking alongside Higgins down the hall.

“If you’re gonna fire me,” Y/n looked back at Keeley, “Do it now.”

“No,” Keeley replied, hurrying to catch up, “It can wait.”

They stood to the side with Higgins as Jan Maas spoke in his native tongue, his tone surpassed the language barrier. The team were hurting.

Eventually, the interviewer turned to the coaching side. “And so, Roy Kent,” he began, “Don’t you think Richmond’s objectively poor performance is due to the fact that you’re nothing without Zava?”

Y/n inhaled, holding her breath after, “Here we go…”

“Who cares?” Roy replied, “It’s a fucking friendly. A friendly is a pretend match. This is a pretend conversation. You’re a pretend person with a pretend job. And I’m having a really hard time pretending to give a shit.”

If Zava didn’t give them enough headlines to clean up, Roy certainly did.

Will passed them in the hallway with armfuls of bags, whispering hellos to Keeley and Y/n, before Rebecca returned.

“Okay, a night out in Amsterdam it is,” she said quietly, “Let’s make the best of it. What’s the plan?”

“Ooh, I’m spoken for, I’m afraid,” Higgins replied, “It’s my first time in Amsterdam and I have a date with someone special in the red-light district.”

Rebecca, Keeley and Y/n watched their co-worker leave, staring in confusion.

“Nah,” they all said in harmony. There was no way.

“Just us, then,” Rebecca smiled at the two women.

Between the loss and her general stance on spending time together outside of work, Y/n already had her excuse prepared. “I’m exhausted,” she said, “I’m just gonna order dinner and turn in early.”

Keeley’s nervous smile returned as Rebecca turned to her expectantly, “I’d love to-“

“That’s a quick cancellation,” Rebecca replied.

“How’d you know I was gonna cancel?” Keeley asked.

“Because there’s a certain note in your vocal range that you only ever hit when you’re being preemptively apologetic,” Rebecca explained, glancing over to Y/n, “Am I right?”

Y/n scrunched her face at both her bosses, landing on Keeley. “Just a…little.”

“Come on,” Rebecca continued, “Out with it.”

“All right,” Keeley sighed, “Apparently, tonight is the best aurora borealis ever. Like it’s the aurora ‘boreal-iest.’ In Norway.”

Rebecca nodded understandingly while Y/n tilted her head. “How are you getting to Norway?”

Keeley ever-so-slightly shifted between feet, “And Jack and her plane are waiting for me at the airport right now,” she looked nervously to her employee, “That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Y/n’s mouth opened and closed, her mind trying desperately to find words opposite to what she truly wanted to say. Keeley. Jack. Keeley and Jack. A thing. The boss and the boss-boss. What could go wrong? Everything.

Luckily, Rebecca spoke first. “Subtle,” she smiled at her friend, “And amazing.”

“Yeah, that’s,” Y/n’s total discomfort with the situation cut off the signal to her brain. She awkwardly made a fist and raised it, “Great. So great.”

Keeley was so in her own world, no doubt one that sat on a Dutch runway, she didn’t notice Y/n’s terrible performance.

“Go,” Rebecca nodded toward the end of the hall.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Keeley grabbed Rebecca’s hands.

“Yes, you will,” the older blonde replied.

“Oh,” Keeley caught Jan Maas heading down the hall, interview completed, “Great job, Jan.”

“Yes, seriously,” Y/n added, “Thank you so much.”

The Dutch man smiled at the two and gave a wave.

“And, Roy,” Keeley called to her ex, “Thank you again for doing this.”

“Yeah,” Roy nodded, “Anytime.”

Keeley squeezed Rebecca’s arm, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Rebecca repeated.

“I love you,” Keeley grabbed Y/n’s hands, “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Y/n forced a laugh, nothing was actually funny at the moment, and watched as Keeley ran down the hall, Norway bound.

Rebecca, having spent enough time with Y/n, could sense her unease. “What are you thinking this very moment?”

“I’m watching my career get blown up because of a stupid night sky,” Y/n grinned, her eyes following Keeley’s fluffy pink coat bounce up and down.

Roy left the interviewer, coming to stand between the two women. It gave him a prime spot to watch his ex-girlfriend bound out. “Where’s she going?”

“Somewhere that believes they deserve her,” Rebecca replied, letting the thinly veiled comment smack Roy. She touched Y/n’s arm in goodbye before leaving the same way Keeley had.

Y/n let out a sigh, her and Roy turning to one another in silent resignation over separate matters. Y/n’s eye caught on the poster beside them, her face shifting with disgust.

Zava.

Roy turned and faced it, a small shrine to the legend’s short stint at AFC Ajax, and pounded his fist against it. It fell to the floor where Roy promptly landed a few kicks before casually walking off.

Y/n looked down the hall to where the interviewer was still filming, watching in shock as Roy stalked off.

“We’ll pay for that,” Y/n smiled.

“No, we won’t,” Roy called out.

Sneering once more at Zava’s arrogant grin, Y/n marched off toward the exit, ready for the day to be over.

—————————

Of course, by the time she got back to her hotel, it was barely 6PM. There was a whole evening to kill.

Y/n ordered room service, snacking as she scrolled the social media reactions to the match. When it became fruitless trying to find anything positive, she set her phone down on her nightstand and grabbed the tv remote instead.

She flipped between stations, finding most of the programming to be in Dutch. Eventually, she settled on the hotel’s channel that showcased their amenities and the city’s activities.

Y/n dropped the remote in shock, “Oh my gosh.”

With a Dutch overdub, a very out-of-fashion Keeley described some feature the hotel rooms had.

Y/n laughed, covering her mouth as she watched her boss over-exaggeratedly move around the screen. The sight was bringing her thoughts on Keeley back around to a more positive place.

It was eating at her, though, Keeley and Jack. Both of them were perfectly lovely, and Y/n had been witness to their natural chemistry. But dating the person that financed your company? That could decide at the drop of a hat to pack you up and dissolve everything you’d worked for?

Not that Jack would do that. Y/n reminded herself that the woman was level-headed and genuinely believed in Keeley’s vision. But there was always the great big “…what if?”

Y/n ran a hand through her hair, sitting on the edge of her bed. How could anyone be comfortable taking such risks with their career?

Deciding that she’d spiral if she stayed in her hotel room any longer, Y/n went to her suitcase and grabbed a change of clothes. She threw on her sweater and jeans, collected her wallet, phone and coat, and headed out the door.

She felt a twinge of guilt, telling Rebecca she was staying in and leaving the woman to fend for herself. But it wasn’t enough remorse to get Y/n to send a text.

Once she reached the lobby, she had to pass through the lounge to get to the exit. She quickly stepped back behind a wall when she spotted the entire team seated together, in deep conversation. Y/n couldn’t turn down another invitation, nor did she want to answer any questions, good-natured as they may be. She waited until a bellboy came through with a full luggage cart, hurrying alongside the suitcases that formed a perfect shield.

In the clear, Y/n stepped out into the evening air, inhaling deeply. She didn’t know where she was going, but she was going to enjoy herself. If nothing else, she was going to leave saying that she’d spent a night out in Amsterdam.

She wandered down to a busier part, not so stupid to think that as a single woman she could roam the city freely. In the more touristy section, there were buskers, much like in London. They provided a pleasant soundtrack as Y/n weaved through the crowds, searching for the first place she wanted to stop. Eventually, she spotted a street vendor, selling coffees and pastries, and decided that was as good as anything else.

Y/n walked until she found an empty bench, claiming it for herself. She ate her pastry, sipped her coffee and watched the crowd, listened to the chatter of the people passing by. There was something about being in a new city that electrified her, it was the same feeling she’d had when she’d first arrived in London. Everything was fresh and exciting and full of possibilities, even if she didn’t take any of them.

“And here-“

A familiar voice broke through Y/n’s thoughts. She traced it to find Jamie jogging down the cobblestone street.

“Is the most beautiful girl,” Jamie announced, running in place in front of Y/n and gesturing to her, “In all of Amsterdam!”

Spotting Y/n a grin, Jamie went on his way, leaving her laughing as he left. Ten seconds later, a well-worn Roy stopped to catch his breath.

Y/n smirked, knowing that Jamie was exhausting him. She lifted her leg to show her sneakers, “You want me to-“

“No,” Roy panted, keeping one eye on Jamie, “Don’t give him any more fucking energy.”

Roy took off once more after his protege. Y/n watched the two men disappear into the night, smiling and shaking her head.

With nothing else to do, she decided to call her sister. Her and Caylee had a standing catch-up each Sunday and she wasn’t going to miss it.

The dial rang twice before it picked up, “Hey.”

Y/n smiled at the sound of the familiar voice, “Guess where I am?”

“Where?”

“Sitting along a canal in Amsterdam, sipping a coffee, surrounded by people I don’t know.”

“Look at you,” Caylee cheered, “Being all spontaneous and shit.”

With a full mouth, Y/n laughed. “I mean, I knew I’d have the time. Not sure that counts.”

“Still, it’s good to know you’re out. You with anyone?”

“No,” Y/n said, watching one of the boats float down the canal, “Just me.”

Caylee’s silence was deafening, and predicted. By them both.

“So not your boss, who you said keeps inviting you places?” Caylee asked.

Y/n chuckled, “My boss is in Norway right now.”

“And not your other boss who, quite frankly, sounds fucking amazing?”

Y/n sighed, thinking of Rebecca’s earlier invitation. “She…had plans.”

“Not the coach who home invaded you to deliver fresh baked cookies?”

“No,” Y/n was starting to squirm under Caylee’s interrogation, “And they were biscuits.”

“And not the ridiculously hot footballer who’s basically just dropped himself in your lap?”

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose. Jamie had texted her multiple suggestions on how to spend her night in the city. She’d felt bad ignoring them.

“It’s not-“

“Yeah, I know,” Caylee cut her off, “It’s not like that. That’s not the important part of what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’ve got all these people who are jumping to be around you and you keep pushing them away, and quite frankly, it’s kind of ridiculous.”

Her tongue poking her cheek in frustration, Y/n let her free hand fall to her lap. “Why is it ridiculous?”

“Because you’ve got no reason to be doing it,” Caylee said, no doubt with a shrug. Y/n was inhaling to argue back when she was cut off again. “You’ve got every reason to. I do too. Except these people actually want to be with you. They’re fucking proving it every Sunday night you call me and tell me how you had to dodge another invitation to a birthday party or another drink after a match…”

Y/n felt backed into a metaphorical corner, all too exposed. She kept searching for some comeback, some solid point to make, but couldn’t find one.

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, Caylee,” she said, trying to steady her voice.

“It’s really not,” her sister replied.

“Yes, it is,” Y/n’s tone jumped, “You make it sound like all I have to do is go out for a coffee with my boss and all my issues are magically solved.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Caylee, to her credit, didn’t drop her even tone.

“That’s exactly what you’re saying,” Y/n retorted, her brain and her mouth working at different speeds, “Y-you’re saying that I should— I-I should jus-just let them into my life and-“

“When are you going to stop punishing everybody else for what Mom and Dad did to us?”

Y/n’s breath caught in her chest and her stammers stuck to her throat. The truth could paralyze you like that.

Caylee didn’t speak, letting the question wash over her sister. Eventually, after watching someone self-destruct for long enough, subtlety was useless. Sometimes you had to hurt them to help them heal.

“I love you,” Caylee said softly, “But you deserve a better life than this. The only thing standing in the way…”

The sentence didn’t need to be finished. Y/n knew.

“You can hate me if you want.”

Y/n chortled, looking down at her coffee cup. “I’ve tried. Doesn’t work.”

Caylee hummed, her smile somehow vocalized as well.

“I love you,” Y/n returned, “And I’m…sorry. For everything.”

“Yeah, that’s another thing you need to stop doing,” Caylee pointed out, “Stop apologizing for our shitty childhood. You didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, well, you’re my baby sister,” Y/n sniffled, trying to stop the tears before they’d even formed, “Bit of a habit, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, I turned out fine,” Caylee chuckled, “Boyfriend, job, friends…I’m happy. I just want the same for you.”

Y/n smiled, she was so proud of her sister. She’d built her own life, and had found an inner peace regarding their childhood that Y/n had yet to discover. She wasn’t envious, she longed to understand how Caylee had done it. How she seemed to be able to pack up their parent’s negligence in a box and stick it under her bed. It was all Y/n had wanted since moving to London.

“Well, not that this isn’t fun, getting a verbal finger wagging,” Y/n sighed, “But-“

“Go,” Caylee urged, “You’ll never be in Amsterdam again.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, “I might.”

A sisterly silence crackled between them.

“You’ll never be in Amsterdam again,” Caylee grinned, imagining her tightly-wound sister in a city of such debauchery.

Y/n laughed, “Probably not.”

“I love you,” Caylee repeated, “Really.”

“I love you too,” Y/n echoed, “I’ll call you Sunday.”

“I’ll be here.”

Without another word, the siblings hung up, returning to their corners of the world.

Y/n took a breath, looking down at her coffee as if it held all the answers. She couldn’t very well sit on the damn bench all night, not after that conversation. She needed to do something.

Amsterdam. Tulips. That made sense. She needed to see tulips in their native soil.

Y/n searched the map on her phone and found a nearby garden, less than a half mile’s walk away. She could do that no problem.

On the way over, her thoughts managed to leave her alone. The weight of what Caylee’d said hadn’t fully landed. Weaving between tourists and dodging the drunken ones was certainly enough to keep Y/n occupied. She could keep herself in semi-excitement about her destination.

Upon arriving and paying for admission, she found the gardens to be surprisingly quiet. It was close to closing time and a fair share of parties were heading out the way she was coming.

Y/n strolled through the greenhouse. She found the path to the outer section, the pebbles crunching under her sneakers as she followed the signs with floral markers. Her head stayed quiet.

The sprawling tulip patch was stunning. The marketplace ones Y/n had bought and placed in her kitchen window didn’t do the real thing justice. These bloomed with the kind of radiance that only came with being in the place they truly belonged.

Y/n tried to admire them, but had never been more aware of her solitude. There were families strolling past, couples gazing at the flowers, hand in hand. The bustle of the Amsterdam streets had melted away, the peaceful silence of the gardens provided no escape from one’s thoughts.

She’d been at Richmond four months, growing more and more pleased with the job each day. Except it wasn’t the work that made her happy. She didn’t get a pit in her stomach at the thought of exchanging emails with some sneaker company. She didn’t feel jolts of electricity down her fingers from scrolling Twitter to see how a press conference was received.

It was the matches that thrilled her. Sitting in the owner’s box at Nelson Road. Being squished between Keeley and Rebecca and Higgins. Watching the team run up and down the pitch. Cheering and screaming when one of the boys scored a goal. That was what made her happy.

The tears built as a supercut of moments played in Y/n’s mind. The team, inviting her out after nearly every match, genuinely disappointed each time she declined. Keeley, clawing and scratching her way into Y/n’s life, desperately trying to be a friend. Rebecca, as intimidating as she was, constantly praising Y/n on her talents, always encouraging her. Ted, offering time and time again to be there for her, to welcome her into their fold. Jamie, texting her a full fucking itinerary for a night he wouldn’t even be there for. Helping her find an apartment. Listening to her talk about her shitty childhood.

Being there for her.

They all wanted to be there for her.

And she was too fucking scared to let them.

Y/n sniffled, her eyes so blurred that the tulips turned to watercolor blobs.

“Ahem.”

She turned to her right, a grey haired man taking slow steps toward her, pulling something from his jacket.

“Here you go, dear” he said, offering her a handkerchief.

“Oh,” Y/n tried to collect herself, inevitably failing and taking the cloth, “Thank you.”

“No need,” the elderly man held up a hand, he spoke with a thick Dutch accent. “It is easy to recognize a broken heart.”

“Oh, no,” she denied as she dried her eyes. She tried to give a small smile, “I’m just a little lonely. It’ll pass.”

“Ah,” he came to stand beside her, facing the tulips, “I would not say that.”

Y/n stayed silent, sensing the stranger had more to say.

“Loneliness…it is like a warning. A wave lapping at the shores,” he smoothed his hand over the air, “It grows a little bigger, and it starts to hit the shore. And out in the distance, more begin to build. But still,” he shrugged, “No storm, no worries. It is simply a wave. Until the skies darken, and the storm shows up,” he moved his hand to simulate bursts of thunder and lightning, “And everybody is running and asking ‘Ahhh! How? How did this happen? Why did no one tell us this was coming?’”

Y/n smiled slightly as the man clasped his hands together, speaking higher for the imitation.

“And the storm says,” he cleared his throat, “‘I did tell you. The waves grew wilder and wilder, but it was of no concern to you. You laughed and continued on, saying that it was nothing...that it would pass.’”

Y/n clenched the handkerchief tighter in her fist.

“Loneliness is not to be isolated further,” the man mused, smiling grandfatherly at Y/n, “Rather, to be smothered in the company of good friends, a lover. Family.”

Whether he was an angel or a hallucination, the man was telling Y/n everything the part of her mind she didn’t listen to did. She’d hidden away all her life, terrified to let anyone in. The effort had finally beaten her. She was tired of the loneliness, tired of lying, tired of fending off the efforts of those who were already in her heart.

Y/n gave a watery smile, “You might be right.”

He smiled back, “Maybe.”

With a wink, he started back up the path he’d come.

“Wait,” Y/n held up the handkerchief, “You forgot this.”

The man looked back and waved a little, “Keep it. A little reminder not to be alone for too long.”

He went off then, Y/n watched him until he disappeared around a corner, feeling dumbstruck. Terrified. Relieved. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, but her feet set off with such purpose, it didn’t matter if she knew. She was on the right track.

She ended up in the red light district, of all places. There was no one to call, each of the Greyhounds off on their own adventures, but Y/n was determined to be somewhere there was life. To do something. Not stand on the sidelines and pretend she had no desire to be in the middle of it all. A jazz club seemed like the perfect answer.

The establishment she decided on was busy, but not too crowded. She took cautious steps through, hoping she didn’t pick too rowdy of a place. Soft jazz played from the stage at the back of the smoky room. She was about to settle at the bar when she spotted the backs of two heads she knew quite well.

Walking up to the two men, Y/n tapped Higgins on the shoulder.

“Y/n,” he exclaimed, no doubt a little tipsy, “What are you doing here?”

“Just wandered in,” she replied, looking past him and giving a little wave to Will, “You mind if I join you guys?”

“Oh, please,” Will gestured to the table, jumping up from his seat to help Y/n into a chair.

“The more the merrier,” Higgins added before going back to playing the upright air-bass.

Y/n tried not to laugh, she’d never seen him off-the-clock. She suspected Will hadn’t either as the two of them caught each other’s eye, sharing a look of mutual amusement.

“Has he been like this all night?” Y/n asked.

“Uh, little bit, yeah,” Will answered, Higgins scatting in the background.

One of the women that had been playing on stage made her way down to the Richmond table, scrunching down to Higgins’ level. She raised her voice over the music, “Do you play?”

Higgins startled, stumbling over his words due to surprise and liquor. “Uh…um…”

Y/n smiled and turned to the woman, “He does.”

“Yes, he— Yes, he does,” Will was quick to follow, “He plays bass because Chet Baker- Chet Ba- Do you know who Chet Baker is?”

The woman smiled sweetly at Will.

“All right, okay,” he replied, settling back in his chair and looking to Y/n, reminding her of an excitable puppy.

“What do you say, Higgins?” Y/n asked, looking over at her co-worker.

He looked to be wrestling with an already made decision. Will patted him on the shoulder, urging him to accept the unspoken offer. Buoyed by his co-workers, Higgins scooted his chair back and followed the woman up to the stage. Will and Y/n cheered him on.

“We went to see where Chet Baker killed himself,” Will said, his grin didn’t quite match his words.

Y/n raised her brows, still smiling. “Well, that must’ve been fun.”

“It was,” Will replied, “What have you been doing?”

Higgins took hold of the bass, getting a feel for it before playing a complex intro to a song.

Y/n’s eyes never left the stage, “Nothing as fun as this.”

“Let’s get lost now!” Higgins called to the crowd.

Everyone let out a shout of approval, Will and Y/n’s the loudest, and the rest of the band kicked in. Y/n pulled out her phone and opened her camera app, she hit record just as the woman who’d pulled Higgins up began to sing.

As the song played, for the first time in four months, Y/n smiled so broadly, her cheeks hurt. When Higgins went into a solo, she grabbed Will’s arm and the two of them watched ecstatically. She felt like she’d come to an oasis in the middle of a desert, not even realizing how in need of water she was.

When the song ended, she was the first one to her feet.

—————————

The next morning, the Greyhounds were surprisingly sober aboard the Coach. They went about their separate conversations, waiting for the last of them to find their way onto the bus.

An unfamiliar pair of shoes slapped up the steps, drawing a couple of eyes upward.

Y/n stopped at the front of the bus, holding up a beanie.

“This,” she said loud enough to get all the player’s attention, “Is a collection plate. It will be sitting at the back of the bus, where at some point during the eleven hour drive back to our lovely nation, you will each place an unspecified amount of money which, in total, will amount to what we owe the hotel in damages to pillows,” Y/n held up a finger, smiling annoyedly, “And keep in mind, I do know your salaries. Give accordingly.”

There was a mixture of shame and amusement on the Greyhound’s faces, but no real regret. Nor was Y/n actually mad. She had questions, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing when she came down to the lobby and saw Higgins doing damage control at the concierge desk over the feathery mess.

She made her way to the back of the bus where Ted and a very dressed-up Beard sat.

“Hey, stranger,” Ted greeted, looking up from his notebook, “How’d Amsterdam treat ya?”

“Alright,” she replied, looking at the empty spot next to Ted, “Do you…mind if I join you guys?”

Ted smiled, surprised but delighted. He knew if he said too much he might scare Y/n right back off the bus, “You kiddin’? Scoot your boot, c’mon.”

Sliding in beside him, Y/n exhaled against the plush seat. Will had already packed her bags in the luggage compartment and she’d texted Rebecca to let her know she wouldn’t be joining her on the jet back to London.

She finally got a full look at Beard’s ensemble. A big snout and pig ears, a glittery jumpsuit with silver platform boots, and an unmistakable blue and red lightning bolt painted across his face.

“I hate that I know what you’re going for,” Y/n remarked across the table.

“Don’t hate it,” Beard replied, spreading his hands, “Embrace it.”

Y/n chuckled before the cheering from the Greyhounds caught her ear. She glanced down the aisle to spot Rebecca making her way towards them.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey, boss,” Ted added as Rebecca slid in next to Y/n, looking more relaxed than ever. “So, twelve unanswered texts, three un-haha’ed GIFs. We good?”

“I’m sorry, Ted,” Rebecca smiled, speaking slowly, “My phone is at the bottom of a canal.”

Ted pondered the answer, “Is that Keats?”

Rebecca shook her head, “Nope.”

“Well, I guess I didn’t need to send that text,” Y/n commented, “I won’t be on the plane home, by the way.”

Rebecca gave a breathy laugh, reaching over to pat Y/n’s hand. Out of character as all get out, but Y/n was happy to see her boss so…at peace.

“Hey, Will,” Ted called down to the kitman, “How we looking?”

“Uh, we’re two short,” Will answered, “Who’s missing?”

Y/n had clocked the missing presences the second she’d stepped on the bus. Being the closest to the window, she was the first to spot them, but she didn’t quite believe what she saw.

Jamie rode up beside the bus on a bike, Roy sitting behind him and hanging on with one arm slung round Jamie’s hips.

“You lovely people,” Jamie called out as Roy eagerly hopped off.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Y/n remarked.

“Don’t fucking ask,” Roy groaned as he came down the aisle, “Let’s go.”

Just as he’d taken his seat, Jamie jumped aboard, holding his fists in the air. “We saw a windmill!”

The Greyhounds cheered, high-fiving Jamie as he found a seat. He caught Y/n sandwiched between Rebecca and Ted, the two of them sharing a grin.

“You take my advice?”

Y/n shook her head, “Not a bit.”

Jamie clutched his chest, letting himself fall into one of the chairs. “I’m hurt,” he called over the chatter.

Rebecca slid her feet up onto the table, shutting her eyes as if she meant to go to drift off. This was the most relaxed Y/n had ever seen her, and she suspected the same went for Ted.

“Everything okay, boss?” Ted asked.

Waiting a moment, Rebecca responded with a tune that had had a much different meaning the day before.

“Don’t worry,” she sang, “‘Bout a thing. ‘Cause every little thing’s, gonna be all right.”

“Well,” Ted smiled, “I appreciate it.”

“Singin’ don’t worry,” Beard continued, singing back quite nasally, “About a thing.”

Y/n laughed, what else was there to do? She was watching a man in a David Bowie/swine get-up sing Bob Marley, and there was literally no place she’d rather be.

“‘Cause every little thing,” Rebecca sang along with Beard, “Gonna be all right.”

Ted chuckled alongside Y/n, “Ready for eleven hours of this?”

“Definitely,” Y/n nodded.

“Everybody!” Beard called to the bus before continuing the song, “Don’t worry…”

As she sang with the team, Y/n felt the four month old tension she’d been holding melt away. This was where she belonged, this was where she wanted to stay.

—————

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