Oh My God I Am So Obsessed With ‘A Man Of His Word’ Could You Please Continue It If You Have Time?

Would you ever write a fluff piece about hero and villain getting distracted from their (already quite flirty in that hero/villain way) battle because they see an injured dog and want to help

Neither one trusts the other to save the dog and so they both watch over it/take care of it

They end up bonding over this and as it turns out, the dog doesn’t belong to anyone. Where would it live now?

(Love your work btw <3) - 🐞

Hi there, Ladybug Anon! Can I call you Ladybug Anon? Anyway, thank you for requesting this, here you go! This one is kinda long, so I put it under the cut!

A well-timed fireball to Hero’s chest had them careening off the rooftop, down a fire escape, and to the hard pavement below.

“Ugh, that’s gonna bruise,” Hero mumbled.

They clambered to get to their feet and looked up at Villain watching them from above.

“Sorry, darling, I thought you were going to dodge!” they called.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hero huffed, dusting themselves off.

Villain climbed down the fire escape and approached Hero, who threw a snowball at their face.

“Oof!”

“There, now we’re even… sort of.”

“Oh, how mature,” Villain scoffed, wiping the snow from their face.

A whimper echoed in the alleyway.

“Well, it was immature of you!” Villain argued.

“That wasn’t me!” Hero said indignantly.

Another whimper. Quiet, high-pitched, and absolutely pitiful.

Villain and Hero turned to the end of the alleyway, where a sable and white lump shivered inside a dilapidated cardboard box. They both approached it, Hero crouching down first.

Two sad brown eyes looked back at them, ears flat against their head. Fur matted with dirt.

“Oh my goodness!” Hero cooed, “you poor baby, who did this to you?”

“Hmph,” Villain folded their arms across their chest, “you never call me baby.”

“Hush.” Hero snapped.

They held a hand out to the little dog, who sniffed it cautiously. It shuffled out of the box and limped over to Hero.

“Are you hurt?” Hero asked, brows furrowed.

The dog whimpered again, then licked Hero’s hand. Villain crouched down next to Hero.

“It’s a corgi,” Villain said, “very strange to find a stray one…”

“Maybe it’s lost?” Hero suggested.

“It’s possible,” Villain agreed, “it could have a microchip. We could take it to a shelter and-”

The corgi growled, baring its teeth. Villain had been petting it, but when they started scratching near its hind leg, it didn’t appreciate it.

“Scratch that,” Hero said, “let’s take it to the vet.”

…

Vet Tech scanned the microchip and pulled up the corgi’s information.

“Says here his name is Chester, aaaand… his human is [Civilian’s full name].”

Vet Tech dialed Civilian’s number. It rang… and rang… and no response. Not even an answering machine.

“If you could give us their address we could take Chester home.” Hero said.

“Well… since it’s you asking, Hero…”

Vet Tech wrote down the address on a slip of paper. Hero thanked them and took it. Chester however, didn’t want to go. They kept clinging to Vet Tech, licking her face and covering it in puppy kisses.

“I know, I know!” they giggled, “but you’ve gotta go home! Bye-bye!”

…

Hero knocked on Civilian’s door, Villain right next to them, and Chester in their arms.

“Hello?” Civilian asked.

“We’ve found your friend!” Hero said, beaming.

Hero had expected at least a smile and a thank-you. What they weren’t expecting was the reaction they got instead.

“Dang it, why did you bring the thing back!?” they snapped.

Hero clutched Chester tightly. Villain looked dangerously calm.

“Pardon?” Villain asked.

“I turned the thing loose! I drove it into the heart of the city so it wouldn’t come back! And now you come here and bring the stupid-”

Hero conveniently turned away as Villain slammed a fist into Civilian’s face. Civilian stumbled back, crashing to the floor. Villain closed the door.

“Hero,” Villain said, “I don’t think this is Chester’s home.”

“You don’t say,” Hero remarked.

…

Chester barked happily, chasing a butterfly through the park. Hero and Villain sat on a bench, keeping a close eye on them. He was still limping, but Vet Tech had bandaged their hind leg and given them a good wash. Their fluffy fur swished in the breeze and their little nubby tail wagged swiftly back and forth.

“What do we do, Villain?” Hero asked, “neither of us have time for a puppy.”

“Speak for yourself, I would quit villainy right now if… ah, who am I kidding, then I wouldn’t get to see you~”

…

Vet Tech arrived at the park bench.

“You guys wanted to see me?”

Chester turned, hearing their voice. He barked loudly, running up to them and jumping, his tongue sticking out of his open mouth.

“Hello again!” Vet Tech smiled, crouching down to pet him.

Hero and Villain explained the situation.

“You… oh gosh, I mean, I’ve always wanted to… but I don’t know if I-”

They were interrupted by Chester’s happy bark.

Vet Tech’s gaze softened. They nodded.

“Oh all right,” they said, “I guess Chester can come home with me. But only for the time being!”

Six months later

“Chester!” Hero called, “here boy!”

Chester bolted across the park, Vet Tech watching him happily. He ran right past Hero and into Villain’s arms. Hero frowned and looked at Villain.

“Jealous, are we? That I’m the favorite this week?” Villain asked knowingly.

“Haha.”

Chester came back to Hero, barking and running in circles around them. Hero chuckled, crouching down to pet him.

“Guys, we can only play for a bit, you know Chester eats dinner at six thirty,” Vet Tech said.

“Aww,” Villain pouted.

Hero produced a dog toy from a shopping bag and squeaked it. Chester tilted his head.

“You want this, boy?” Hero asked, “go get it!”

Hero threw the toy and Chester chased after it, ecstatic. His hind leg had completely healed, and so had his heart. He finally had humans he could trust.

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Fun Story to Share.

I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.

Well - she got this email this morning:

The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.

Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).

Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.

———

Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.

Back it up back it up BACK IT UP

Google drive, Dropbox, email it to yourself, I don't care how you do it. If it would hurt you to lose it, create a copy. Create SEVERAL copies.

((TL;DR: I lost my data multiple times so please don't trust one app))

For years I was using a writing app called Write. The developer stopped supporting the app. I noticed it wasn't backing up and tried to put in my credentials. That froze and crashed the app, and I lost everything. I worked so hard to try to get it back, but I was only able to recover partial sentences. I still don't understand how the local version could become corrupted just because it was backing up. I regret not copying and pasting that stuff elsewhere so I wouldn't have lost QUITE SO MUCH.

What's more, the reason I moved to Write in the first place was because files on the Notes app disappeared and couldn't be recovered. And no, they weren't some epic sagas lost to time or anything, just little stories I liked to occasionally work on. It brought me joy. It was so hard to get myself to write again knowing how quickly I could just lose 5+ years of content in a flash.

So please.

BACK. IT. UP.

Also while we're here don't forget to hydrate.

pleased to inform everyone that onedrive stopped syncing 6 months ago without telling me and in the luckiest moment of my life so far i discovered this because i had some time to kill in a scaremaze queue and tried to look at the chapter i was drafting on my phone rather than the usual way anyone discovers these things

"Of course," you say, as if it is the most natural thing in the world. Her demeanor shifts-- she could tell something is on your mind.

She tips your chin, and you return her gaze with a heavy heart.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"I..." Tears prick your eyes at the idea of anything happening to your beloved. Instead, you draw her close, and kiss her passionately.

A moment of protest, but she melts, her arms wrapped around you languidly.

"If only the rest of the world could disappear," she whispers.

"I want to destroy them," you hiss back. "I want to destroy them all."

She recoils at your ferocity. You try for another kiss, but she holds up her hand.

"Tell me what happened," she says.

You struggle to meet her gaze.

"I was stopped on the way here," you explain. "Do you... Do you know what they call you out there?"

The queen laughs mirthlessly. "They've been saying that since I was born," she says. "Because of my lineage, because of who I love. It is what it is."

"You don't understand." You grab her hand and draw it to your chest. You try to gather the courage to tell her.

She's patient. So patient.

"They called me the chosen one. They said I... I will bring about your end."

She stares.

Laughs. Delighted.

"Oh, you bring about my end every day," she says fondly. "Every time you leave."

She nuzzles your chin. "Don't make me share attentions with the hateful and small-minded. They are hardly worth our time."

You kiss her head and breath in her scent.

You try to forget the words they spoke to you.

Three days.

In three days, you will bring about her undoing. You are the Chosen One.

You could hardly imagine a world without her. Much less, you couldn't imagine a world you wouldn't tear apart for her.

Especially a world that calls her the "Evil Queen".

Your hands meet and intertwine.

"I love you," she whispers.

You vow to crush her enemies.

Even if it kills you.

You, the chosen one, walk into the evil queen's throne room. The queen was sitting gloomily on her throne. She sees you and lightens up. She rises from her throne and kisses you. "Sweetheart, I am so glad you are back."

"I hardly sleep, and when I do, I am plagued by nightmares."

"I can help, but the price is steep."

"Do I even have a purpose?"

"You're the reason I'm tolerating this world at all."

Potential

"It's so much faster," they said. "It cuts out the grunt work."

"That's not the point," you seethed. "That was never the point. You're exploiting others for your own convenience."

"I'm just ahead of the curve."

"No, you're avoiding the messiness of self expression. You can't be bothered to live."

"I'm so sick of your personal attacks," they snap. "Everyone does this. EVERYONE. You're just living in the past."

"No, I want to live in the future. I want life to be worth living in the future. Where does the need for growth and efficiency stop?"

"So you want to live without modern conveniences?"

"No. No. I just want the growth and efficiency to translate to rest, play, and creativity. It isn't. We've lost so, so much. And for what? An endless stream of banality drowning out the passion that made it possible?"

"You're not being realistic. That's not the world we live in."

"I have to be unrealistic. I can't forget the potential of the world. I know what the world could be and I'm so tired of settling for less."

a sluge 😔

"He's been claimed by a Fae Lord, a Witch, a Demon Queen-- we made deals with one too many entities," the Queen explained with a heavy sigh. "Now, he's gone and got himself possessed by a couple ghosts, and apparently has some kind of arrangement with a Siren and a Dragon. I'm a little lost on his social life at the moment."

The Queen plucked out the sacrificial dagger protruding from her son's chest and tossed it aside with a hanky. The wound instantly healed.

"He's immune to just about anything," she continued. "Lightning, arrows, knives, cannonballs, being frozen or burned and... What was it? Oh yes, poison."

The Prince reached for the knife that lay discarded and began giggling and stabbing himself. The wounds gave off little sparks as they zipped the skin back together.

"Oh, my poor son," the Queen lamented. "In any case, is this God of yours powerful? They might need to be in order to claim him."

The Order exchanged glances. "We changed our mind," they said.

The Prince hopped up on the sacrificial altar and grabbed the leader by his robes. "No no NO you can't stop NOW!!" He giggled, "Beyooooond the time it took for set up, how RUDE it is to call a God only halfway, right when it's getting GOOD?!"

The Order grimaced. "The prince speaks the truth. Complete the spell in the honor of God. Only he can determine if this vessel is worthy."

The Prince flopped back with a smarmy grin.

The Order sunk the knife into the Prince once again and commenced with the summoning. The Prince began to float, and he hit the clergy with spitballs from where he was suspended.

The God appeared and looked over the clergy. "You must know this vessel is... Inadequate," he said, gesturing to the giggling prince. "I have never been summoned to a less suitable vessel."

"Suit yourself! You clearly don't know how to PARTY!" The Prince said, dancing around the floating apparition. "Like I want some boring old god taking up space in MYY flesh prison!"

"Dear, that dance is a bit unseemly," the Queen said. "Stop at once."

"YOU stop, MOM." The Prince pointed at the Queen. "Is she? Is she suitable? She's been offering me up this whole time!"

The Queen shook her head. "That's not necessary, Dear."

"Very well. It is done," the God said, and his spirit flowed into the Queen's mouth. The Queen shook briefly, then closed her jaw audibly.

"Goodness. I expected more," the Queen said, dabbing her lips with a hanky. "Truly a boring God. Let's go home, son."

"Wait, what happened?!" The Order cried.

"Oh, we are also a family of God eaters," the Queen said. "I must have forgotten to mention that. Did I? It's how we keep getting all these contracts."

The prince pointed to the sacrificial dagger in his chest. "Hey, can I keep this?"

When the eldest of the royal children was kidnapped and brought to the ritual table to be the new vessel for the cult's god, they seem oddly fine with it. It was in the middle of the ritual that the eldest royal revealed…