#also got to work on directed water retrieves which are a challenge for him

[milla984]

And in the Beginning...

Summary: after spending a day at D.C.’s most renowned multifandom convention Spencer and Garcia stop for a coffee. Spoiler alert - our fave Resident Genius dumps their order on Reader.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader (Reader is a sci-fi buff)

Category: fluff

TW/CW: swearing, mentions of food, some Star Wars-related talk

Word Count: 2k

Once again, a ginormous THANK YOU to @drgenius-reid for taking the time to beta-read the first draft (aka witnessing the horror)!

The following work is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins' CM Meet Cute (or not) Challenge and is also part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“Highlight of the day?! Jamie Hewlett signing my copy of The Cream of Tank Girl! In you face, Mr. 'Superman Can Fly'...!”

The woman carrying a Chinese paper umbrella rummaged through her purse to retrieve a wallet and pay at the coffee truck parked outside the convention center; stylish two-tone glasses matched the army green jumpsuit with a teddy bear patch on her right leg and the blue mandarin collar button-down shirt she was wearing, and her blond hair was tied up in a pair of small side buns.

The tall man beside her chuckled as he picked up two cups. “I don’t know if I should be more impressed or worried.”

“Why?! We made a deal and it’s perfect: he can have Sci-Fi-Gate, I’m keeping WashCon.”

“Sci-Fi-Gate has amazing Star Trek guests, though…”

A long and colorful scarf was wrapped around his neck and a deep red cravat necktie peeked out of the hem of a plaid design vest, combined with a single-breasted brown coat and a pair of grey pants. 

“I can't believe you would really choose the Captains of the Enterprise panel over my emotional stability,” she frowned, paying zero attention to the cosplayer in a trenchcoat with a pair of black wings attached to their back she was about to brush past.

When the feathers smacked her cheek she pulled back, the tips of her umbrella almost poking the tall guy dressed as Doctor Who in the eye; the sudden movement startled the cosplayer and a rapid swing of their dark wings created a commotion in the crowd of people waiting for their turn to order. In the confusion that followed, a random shoulder bumped into yours and pushed you out of the line and off the sidewalk, right in front of the Fourth Doctor - who was struggling to maintain his Fedora in place and watch where he was going at the same time.

Needless to say, he ended up failing at both.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” the blond woman asked. 

“I’m so sorry, SO SO SORRY—” the tall guy apologized simultaneously and she cut him off, rushing to your side.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

The frantic exchange prompted your brain to whoosh into light speed mode to elaborate and discharge the ‘Ah, shit!!’ and ‘wait… is this iced macchiato?!?!’ inputs in favor of a more suitable reaction at the sight of the considerable amount of caffeine soaking your hoodie.

“... I think I’m okay.”  

“First-aid manuals suggest removing all clothes or jewelry near the affected area within moments after the spillage of a hot liquid,” the tall guy said, and the woman gasped in shock. 

“Please tell me you didn’t get burned! Once I got this non-fat steamed white chocolate vani—”

“I’m fine,” you growled a bit. 

Someone behind you was snickering and, despite the relief of not having sustained serious injuries, the attention was already making you feel uncomfortable.

“Scalds are caused by sources of humid heat and certain types of fibers retain the water, which can be responsible for additional damage to the skin,” the tall guy explained again, speaking faster than anyone you had ever heard.

You tucked your shirt in your jeans and raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Let me guess: you’re a doctor.” 

“Well… uhm, yes, this is my…” he faltered, unable to tell if you were referencing his costume as a pun or not. “I am, actually.”

“Not that kind of doctor,” the woman added.

She sighed as soon as she realized you were standing there speechless, drenched in coffee, your gaze wandering back and forth between them. “I’m so sorry…”

“They should be more careful with the lids. I think I got lucky,” you muttered through gritted teeth as you pulled the zip down.

Thanks to the decision to splurge some money on yourself, earlier on, you had something to replace your soiled hoodie with. The Fourth Doctor looked away and focused his attention on the cups he was still holding in his hands; before he threw them in the nearest trashcan he inspected their content, confirming he’d fortunately spilled on you a combination of 98% half-caf iced caramel macchiato and just 2% regular hot americano.

The woman was still clasping the handle of her umbrella. “Listen, we were about to check out this itsy-bitsy lovely Indian place ‘round the corner, maybe you should come with us. You know… to try and get cleaned up a little.” 

You dug into the shopping bag at your feet, taking a sealed package out to rip the plastic film wrapped around a brown sweatshirt with a stylized front print of the panoramic view of the desert, Jabba the Hutt’s palace and twin suns on Tatooine, and put it on. 

“No offense, but my parents taught me to never follow strangers.” 

“None taken,” the tall guy replied, “they were absolutely right. According to the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System, about 90,000 individuals are reported missing in the U.S. every year and the National Institute of Justice estimates that approximately 4,400 unidentified bodies are recovered annually.”  

For the second time in less than five minutes, you considered the possibility he could truly be from Gallifrey. You also wondered if he was aware of his perfect facial structure: everything about his demeanor indicated he wasn’t too skilled in the art of charming people using his sculpted jawline and lean figure. 

“... do you always quote statistics about murders and kidnappings like it’s a casual topic of conversation?”  

His eyes got even bigger, showing a hint of gold on the inside. “It was merely an observation—”

“Yeah, he… does that,” the woman came to his rescue, “and even if it sounds bad, trust me it’s- it's part of his job. Our job. Except, I don’t deal with the scary, disturbing, yucky stuff.”

Your question wasn’t meant to come out in such a sarcastic tone. “You’re cops?!”

“FBI. Tech Analyst and Behavioral Analysis Unit,” she explained, and the tall guy waved a silent greeting at you. 

Even though the chance of running into the Bureau personnel stationed in D.C., at some point, wasn’t unreasonable, ‘two FBI agents walk into a multifandom convention dressed as characters from sci-fi TV shows’ could have easily been the beginning of a bad joke. 

Plus, it was hard to picture the Fourth Doctor as a G-Man. “What’s your Ph.D. in, exactly?”

“I have a Ph.D. in Mathematics. And Chemistry, and Engineering. And I hold BAs in Psychology, Sociology and Philosophy.”

“Google him. Spencer Reid, B-A-U,” the woman suggested after a short pause, in response to your skeptical expression.

Judging by her tone she was daring you to, as if the situation wasn’t already giving off major The Twilight Zone vibes… and yet, instead of bidding them an unenthusiastic farewell, you pulled out your phone to type his name. 

A plethora of results popped on the screen seconds later, so you first clicked on the link titled BAU’s newest member. 

“With three doctorate degrees from Caltech already, and a staggering IQ of 187 as well as an eidetic memory there is no psychological exam or test the FBI could put in front of him he could not ace,” the piece said about newly-recruited Spencer Reid.

“When I ask why he chose Caltech over MIT and Stanford, he quickly runs down a list of Professors he had a desire to study with. He makes no mention of the weather or girls,” an older article reported.

You skipped through at least a dozen mentions of SSA Reid’s outstanding performances in the field, then a PDF document, property of the California Institute of Technology, caught your interest and you read the title aloud. 

“Identifying non-obvious relationship—” 

“Non-obvious relationship factors using cluster-weighted modeling and geographic regression,” he recited by heart, “that's my Engineering dissertation.”

He was too prepared on the subject and too adorably peculiar to be an impostor posing as a genius FBI agent for kicks, during the weekend; you picked his Fedora off the ground as a peace offering. 

“Seems like you’re a wunderkind, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer lowered his chin so he could mask the rush of blood to his cheeks and his friend giggled, gently linking arms with you. 

“Now, there’s something relevant we need to discuss, pronto… how do you feel about veg biryani?”

An hour and a half proved to be all the time you needed to form a solid conviction that Spencer Reid going on a spiel about the original blueprints of a fictional space station was the best thing since sliced bread.

“It’s part of the iconic imagery Lucas wanted to establish, there’s no health and safety. And don’t forget it was originally designed by the Geonosians.”

You snorted at the mention of the classic ‘designed by a flying alien species’ argument. “That’s not an excuse! Even if the Geonosians designed it, they knew it was meant to be used by humanoid creatures.”

After leaving the restaurant, where you had insisted on paying for your share - much to Garcia's dismay, you’d walked back to the convention center’s parking lot and now you were waiting by your car for Penelope to get hers. As you had recently discovered, she loved mugs, old Italian movies and playing the ukulele; Spencer wasn’t as outgoing and chatty, especially about his private life, but Star Wars was for sure one of his numerous areas of expertise.

“TIE fighters don’t have a proper defense system and the original prototype even lacked structural integrity to support atmospheric flight. The Empire doesn't care about casualties, it’s safe to think they never bothered to install a guardrail or other appropriate safety measures because to them the Death Star technicians are expendable.”

“Okay… solid theory,” you admitted, making him smile as he wiped his forehead to get rid of a lock of curly hair.

“Thank you. It’s nice to have a discussion with someone who knows about the Geonosians. Or the Death Star. It only happened twice but I’ve had people asking me what that was.”

When the convertible Cadillac with a plastic Hawaiian lei tied to the rear-view mirror stopped inches from you, Garcia - behind the steering wheel - proudly gestured at the extension of her eccentric personality.

“Meet Esther. Isn’t she fab?”

You wolf whistled your appreciation, gliding your fingertips over the leather upholstery and orange body paint. “Quick question: how much do you think I’d get if I sued two FBI agents for… damages, let’s say?!”

Penelope produced a fluffy pen out of the glove compartment and scribbled something on the back of a PetMAC receipt she handed it to you. 

“Sweet pea, if I were you I'd settle for a lifetime of free IT support.”

“I’ll take it,” you said, “I’m kind of tired of being bullied by my own laptop.”

She stared at you for a moment before her face lit up, like a girl on a trip to a four-story candy shop. “... have you ever been to Baltimore ComicCon?!” she asked out of the blue while Spencer plopped himself down on the passenger seat.

You shook your head. “Do you guys—”

“We should totally go together!!” Garcia proposed. Or rather, declared.

In all honesty, the prospect of attending another convention on your own was depressing and you’d given up on the one in Maryland for that specific reason; you turned to Spencer for his approval, too, and he nodded, maybe because he knew there was no way of stopping Garcia if she had her mind set on a specific goal.  

“Baltimore it is, then…?!”

Penelope shot you a smug grin. “Keep in touch. We still owe you a nice dinner and ComicCon’s not up until September, I’d hate to run a background check on your license plate to find you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea and saluted them goodbye as they drove off, Esther’s taillights shining bright red.

What a weird Saturday. Meeting a real life genius and the quirkiest FBI agent ever came with a price, and one of your favorite hoodies was most likely beyond salvaging. You needed to know if Spencer Reid was well worth it.

Garcia’s words then echoed in your ears, so you sat in your car and unlocked your phone, scrolling through the most recent Google searches: you had a lot of reading to do. 

@matthew-gray-gubler-lover, @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid, @pretty-boys-book-club, @spookydrreid, @f-me-reid, @foxy-eva, @scorpiofangirl1109, @a-potato-wearing-plaid, @cynbx, @reidsbookclub, @nagemasstuff, @hotchsdharma, @reidmainbitch, @lizzylynch1, @will-grahams-eyes, @padawancat97

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid x reader #my gifs #milla writes stuff #mentioningmargins #there are references from a couple of other tv shows hidden in this work #feel free to let me know if you can find them #quot “i understood that reference”

[abirddogmoment]

Post-swim, pre-nap walk in the park

#dogblr #maverick #he swims so good #the hydrotherapist was training a new instructor and used mav as a training dog #since hes so good #also got to work on directed water retrieves which are a challenge for him #pike got to eat snacks andhang out with a stranger #but no swimming for the fish

[ladydimitrescuspet]

A Failed Experience

AO3 link; word challenge: sugar 

"Listen up, we're going to make a cake for Alcina." You said out loud to Alcina's daughters and her brother, Heisenberg. "Victoria, Elise, and I need to go get eggs, food colouring, and vanilla. I need you and Heisenberg to wash some dishes and put the dry ingredients together, I'm sure your Mother has a recipe around here somewhere so find it and follow it. Can you do that?" You asked looking between Daniela and Heisenberg.

Daniela crossed her arms. "Of course we can do that for you, human. After all, we've occupied this castle longer than you've roamed this planet." Daniela replied.

"What Daniela means to say is that we will have everything ready for you when you get back with those other ingredients." Heisenberg said. Daniela hissed at him.

You sighed. "Okay, thank you. We'll be back shortly. Please try not to make too much of a mess or be too loud. I want this to be a surprise for Alcina." You said before you, Elise, and Victoria made a quick beeline for the front door.

"Who does she think she is? Telling us what to do." Daniela said. She was a bit angry.

Heisenberg squinted his eyes at Daniela as he started getting dishes out. "Well, Y/N is married to your mother which makes her your stepmother, Dani. I don't think she's trying to tell us what to do, just trying to make sure that we all feel involved in the process of doing something nice for Alcina." Heisenberg replied.

Daniela rolled her eyes before growling a bit. "I wasn't exactly looking for a reply to that, Uncle Heis. It's one of those rhetorical questions that Mother's human is always trying to explain to us." Daniela said. "Nevermind that, do you know where Mother keeps her recipe box?" Daniela asked opening up cabinets.

Heisenberg scratched his head. "Am I supposed to answer that or is it another rhetorical question?" He asked which resulting in Daniela punching him in the arm. "Ow! Hey now, I was just asking! You hit almost as hard as Alcina does." Heisenberg rubbed his arms. "It's in the cabinet above the sink."

Daniela reached over Heisenberg to open the cabinet and retrieve the recipe box. She flipped through it until she found the recipe she was looking for. "Here it is. Mother's infamous blood-red red velvet cake. Just wait until Y/N looks at what the recipe calls for, she'll flip out and want to just keep it at a regular chocolate cake." Daniela snorted with laughter at the thought.

Heisenberg snatched the recipe card from her hand. "She'll have no problem with it because we're going to ignore that part and add in red food colouring since Y/N is a human and wouldn't do well with blood in her food, let alone her dessert." Heisenberg said. "Now get the flour, baking soda, sugar, salt, and cocoa powder. We need a big bowl, I'll have to wash one." Heisenberg said.

Daniela went and got all the dry ingredients that they needed for the cake. "Where should I put the flo-" Daniela didn't get the rest of the question out as she slipped on a puddle of water causing her to get flour all over her and bringing Heisenberg down with her. She had tried to grab onto him but that didn't help and he ended up soaking wet. The commotion caused Alcina to run into the kitchen.

"What in the name of Mother Miranda is going on in here?" Alcina asked as looked between her soaking wet brother and her flour covered daughter. The two looked at each other before Heisenberg opened his mouth to speak, Alcina beat him to words first. "Please, forget that I asked. Just clean this horrible mess up before the servants arrive to prepare dinner." Alcina said before walking out of the kitchen.

Daniela and Heisenberg looked at each other again before bursting into laughter. "The look on Mother's face when she saw what we'd done, oh, we're definitely in for it at dinner, Uncle Heis!" Daniela exclaimed anguishly, but she was still laughing over the incident. They cleaned themselves up as best as they could. You arrived back home with Victoria and Elise a little while later. "There you three are! Y/N, I know you wanted to make two cakes, but something happened and now there's only enough for one." Daniela informed.

You looked at Daniela who looked like she'd been rolling in flour. "Unh-huh, I wonder why." You mumbled to yourself. "Don't worry, it's fine, one cake'll be fine. Do you have the recipe?" You asked. Daniela nodded her head and handed it to you with a grin. Before you could read it, Victoria took it from your hands.

"Why don't we finish making the cake? I'm sure Mother would enjoy your company. Besides, she'll get rather suspicious if she's not seen you around." Victoria said.

Elise nodded her head. "You know how Mother gets when she can find you for your check ups!" Elise said. "Don't worry, we'll let you frost the cake and everything." Elise added.

You nodded your head and went towards the kitchen door. "You'll be fine without me, right?" All four of them nodded and you sighed before heading off to find Alcina. You spent the next few hours sitting in Alcina's office bored out of your mind. You'd practically read the few books she had in there a million and one times, but she wouldn't allow you to go to the library to get more. She said that it was being renovated so you weren't allowed in there until it was done.

"Dear," Alcina said. You looked up at her. "Could you go to the kitchen? Heisenberg and Daniela were in the earlier causing mayhem, I'd like you to check and see if it's been put back into proper condition for the servants. I wouldn't want my brother and daughter's foolishness to result in us having a late dinner." You simply nodded your head and slipped out of her office to head to the kitchen.

"Hey, is the cake done?" You asked as you entered the kitchen. All four of them turned to look at you and you frowned. "What? Did the cake not work?" You asked.

Heisenberg made a face, but it was Victoria who spoke. "It tastes funny, like it's missing something. We only took a sliver of the cake, come try it." Victoria said and you walked over to them. You put a small piece in your mouth and immediately spit it out. "See? I told you, it tastes funny."

"Yeah, it does. It tastes like there's no sugar in it." You said. They all stared at you. "You did put sugar in it, right?" You asked.

Daniela smiled sheepishly. "Oops, I forgot!" Daniela replied.

Elise hit her palm to her forehead. "Dani, I told you five times to add in the sugar and you promised that you would!" Elise said.

"It's not the end of the world. We can just make a new one." Daniela said.

You shook your head. "Not tonight, maybe later this week. We need to clean the kitchen up before Alcina comes down here to ask me why it's taking so long for me to see if the kitchen is cleaned up of Heisenberg and Daniela's foolishness." Daniela squinted her eyes at you causing you to raise your hands. "Her words not mine, promise!" You added quickly.

"Alright, alright. Let's not cause any more unnecessary messes." Heisenberg said as he directed Daniela away from you. "I say we have less than five minutes before mommy dearest makes her way down here so let's get to it, wouldn't want any of us to get into any trouble. And Daniela, do something with this horrendous cake." Heisenberg said, gesturing to the cake on the counter.

Daniela just waved him off. "I'll leave it for the servant. Sugar or no sugar, they'll be grateful for the treat. Besides this is the longest we've ever had any servants so consider it a reward." Daniela replied as she got back to cleaning up.

You'd never tell Daniela that, but no matter how downright despicable Daniela could be, she could also be as sweet as, well, sugar. The comparison made you smile to yourself. Alcina was going to be quite impressed at her daughter's gesture when you tell her before bed, but you also know that she won't be too surprised by it since she knows how kind Daniela can be. The kindness that the Dimitrescu's possess will always fascinate you, it's not something that is often seen towards the servants or the villagers, but when it's done, it's such a beautiful sight and one that you will never take for granted.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu's daughters #heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu x reader

[pianomanblaine]

Down Once More

This story was written for the Potober prompts “Down Once More” and “And Now, How You Betray Me”, particularly with the words “taken hostage” and “betrayal” in mind. It resulted in an alternative version of the final lair. Fair warning: this one does not have a happy ending. 

AO3 FFN

He dragged her along the dark and damp corridors beneath the opera house at a frantic pace, his grip on her arm harsh and unrelenting, not even sparing her a backward glance as she stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up with him. Her head was still reeling from the events leading up to this moment. It had all happened so fast, yet here and now, time seemed to lose all meaning. Every separate moment seemed to fade into the next one, forming one big hazy blur. It might have been several hours or merely a few minutes before they reached the shore of the underground lake and Erik was steering the little boat across the water towards his house.

Once inside, he pushed her into the bedroom which she had come to think of as hers, and roughly thrust the wedding dress he had so painstakingly crafted for her into her arms. He did not leave the room, did not even turn around to give her the smallest bit of privacy as he forced her to change into it. He immediately started yanking at the fastenings of the dress she was wearing, undressing her with great urgency, letting the garment pool around her feet, and for a moment she feared that he had gone completely mad and would try to violate her. But he only barked out an order for her to put on the wedding gown as he began to agitatedly pace the floor, only occasionally glancing in her direction while she got dressed again.

When she was finished, Erik retrieved a veil – she did not see where from, he might as well have pulled it out of thin air – and forcefully pushed it onto her head. Under any other circumstances, she might have been able to appreciate how delicate and beautiful it was, with its wreath of white and pale pink flowers that contrasted so nicely against her dark brown hair. It hardly weighed anything, but to Christine it felt incredibly heavy, carrying with it the full weight of Erik’s expectations.

Now that her wedding attire was complete, Erik finally stood still long enough to fully look at her. She wondered if he was happy with what he saw. He must have imagined her in that very dress so many times. Was he satisfied now that he had what he wanted, even knowing that it was against her will? Was it all really worth it?

Before she got the chance to ask him, he turned his back on her and walked away without saying a word. She followed him into the sitting room, where a fire was burning brightly in the hearth, its warm glow a striking contrast to the icy atmosphere in the room.

“So what now?” Christine asked, breaking the tense silence between them. “Are you planning to keep me hostage here, hoping I will suddenly change my mind and agree to marry you after all? Or will you just drag me in front of a priest and threaten me until I say ‘I do’?”

“This is not exactly how I had imagined it to go either, Christine,” he snapped as he stood by the fire with his back turned towards her. “I had a plan, and it would have worked if your precious little Vicomte didn’t have to ruin it all.”

“Raoul was only trying to protect me.”

“And look where his protection got you,” Erik sneered, turning to face her with a grotesque grin on his bare face as he gestured around the room, “in the Phantom’s lair, captured by the madman!”

“I never believed you to be mad, Erik,” she replied, “but I have come to understand how dangerous you can be.”

Christine’s heart twisted painfully as she recalled the early days of their acquaintance, when she still believed he was the Angel of Music. How kind he had always been to her, how gently he had treated her. But that had changed drastically when she learned of his deception and discovered his true identity. He had continued to act as her tutor, coaxing her voice to unknown heights, and although he was never harsh or violent towards her, he had grown defensive and suspicious, always on his guard around her, as if he could not believe that she could still feel any genuine kindness towards him now that she had seen his face.

“Well yes, I suppose I am like a wild animal in that regard. When feeling threatened, I can be extremely dangerous indeed,” Erik agreed. He took a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them, his tall frame towering over her. He seemed to be challenging her, daring her to look at the face of the monster.

“Should I be afraid then?” she asked, rising to the challenge and looking straight into his strange yellow eyes.

At first he merely seemed surprised, maybe even impressed, by her bravery as she stood her ground and faced him without flinching, but by the way his face fell only a moment later, she could tell when the meaning of her words hit him. He turned away as he spoke.

“Of course not. I never meant for you to be scared of me. I never intended you any harm.” He took a few steps back, as if to prove his point, as if he hoped to seem less threatening if he stood a little further away from her.

“Kidnapping me is a strange way of showing it,” Christine huffed.

His posture stiffened at the accusation. “You didn’t exactly leave me much choice, did you?” he said through clenched teeth. “You betrayed me!”

“I betrayed you?” she gasped in disbelief, her hands balling into fists by her sides. “Do you want to talk about betrayal, Erik? Do you want to discuss how you lied to me for years, pretending to be an angel sent by my dead father to watch over me? How you blackmailed the managers into doing your bidding, how you terrorized Carlotta and God knows how many others?”

“Don’t you understand? I did it all for you! Because I love you!” he roared.

“Don’t you dare blame this all on me! You killed two innocent people, Erik! How does that have anything to do with love?”

“Buquet was not innocent,” he snorted. “He was a vile lecher, a pervert preying on young defenceless ballerinas in the dark behind the stage. He got what was coming to him.”

The man was certainly no saint, Erik was right about that and Christine knew it, but how could he not see that that did not justify his murder? Even so, she might have been able to forgive him for it eventually, if it had not been for Piangi.

“Piangi never hurt anyone.”

“Piangi was in the way!” he exclaimed. “I did not mean to kill him, merely to incapacitate him long enough to take his place on the stage, but I ran out of time and I became careless. He was the only thing standing between us and I was not about to let him ruin my plan, no matter the cost.”

“You are delusional if you truly believe he was the only obstacle standing in your way. What did you expect to happen tonight, Erik? You would take Piangi’s place, sing with me in an opera of your own creation in front of a full theatre, and then what? I’d fall into your arms and we’d live happily ever after?” She tore the veil out of her hair in frustration, throwing it at his feet. If he thought that after all the times he had tried to force her hand, had tried to manipulate her into choosing him, she would now willingly become his bride, he was sorely mistaken.

“I cannot deny the truth of that, although it now becomes painfully clear how foolish I was to entertain such hopes.” Although his words seemed to imply that he blamed himself for having such unrealistic expectations, the glare he directed at Christine made it clear that he also faulted her for his disappointment. “I was ready to lay my heart at your feet tonight, Christine, and how did you repay me? By tearing off my mask and revealing my monstrous shame for all of Paris to see! I trusted you!”

His angry shouting turned into a sob of betrayal and despair, and for the briefest of moments, Christine’s anger was overshadowed by compassion for the man in front of her. She was well aware of how badly she must have hurt him by doing what she did, but she had no other options. If she hadn’t done something drastic that would enrage him enough to take action, the gendarmes waiting behind the stage would have closed in on him and captured him, or worse.

Raoul must have thought she was in her dressing room or somewhere else out of earshot as he gave his instructions to shoot Erik when the time came, but she had been too nervous to sit still for long, choosing instead to wander the hallways and eventually finding her way behind the stage, pacing back and forth in the dark as she waited for the inevitable tragedy of the night to unfold. She had heard every word. If she hadn’t acted when she did, Erik might have been dead by now.

“I understand that my actions hurt you too, Erik, truly, I do, but you gave me no choice. Can’t you see it was wrong to pin all your hopes and dreams on me? You’ve told me you love me, and I believe that in your own way you really do, but I cannot be held responsible for your feelings, Erik. I do not owe you anything simply because you love me.”

At the crestfallen, heartbroken look on his face, she almost went to him, almost closed the distance between them and embraced him in a futile attempt to offer him some comfort, a silent apology for having shattered his dreams in a few sentences. Almost. Whatever she had to offer him, it would not be enough now. He would always want what she could not give him.

“I know that I cannot make you love me,” Erik began after a long, heavy silence. “God knows I have tried long enough.” His voice sounded softer now, his bitter and accusatory tone completely gone. “But do you not care for me even a little bit? That could be enough for me. We could start over somewhere new, where no one knows who we are. I could still tutor you and you could still sing.” He was pleading now, with his eyes as well as his words, hoping against all odds that he could still convince her to share her future with him.

“I would expect nothing from you, Christine. I’d do anything to make you happy, I’d give you anything you want. You would only have to ask and it would be yours, and you would not have to do anything in return other than stay by my side. Dammit Christine, I am beyond pride. I’ll fall to my knees and beg if I must. Stay with me. Please.”

And for a moment, Christine was truly tempted to throw caution to the wind and go with him. She did care for him, how could she not? Despite everything, he was still her Angel of Music. She could not deny he had been an integral part of her life since the first moment she met him. Erik had been her sole companion during those terrifying first few years after her father’s passing. Through music he had brought her soul back to life. The connection between them was irrefutable, and she could hardly imagine a world where she would never see him again.

Yet she knew that what he asked of her was impossible. Even if he claimed that he had no expectations from her, she knew that he would never be truly happy until she returned his affections, that he would always continue to hope, and she could not bear to disappoint him. Besides, she already had a fiancé. Raoul. Her childhood sweetheart. Sweet, protective, kind-hearted Raoul, who was probably trying desperately to find a way to save her, even if he had to risk his own life to do so, at this very moment.

Where Erik’s love for her was obsessive and at times almost frightening, being with Raoul would be as easy as breathing. He might not be able to give her a life of music, but she would be safe and cared for. She would not want for anything, and unlike Erik, Raoul was not a wanted man. Choosing a life on the run with Erik over a comfortable and uncomplicated one with Raoul might be romantic, but it would also be foolish.

“I do care for you Erik,” she finally replied, “but I cannot stay.”

He did not try to convince her after that. He merely nodded in resignation, as if he had always known this would be the final outcome.

“Go then,” he said. “You can choose a change of clothes from the wardrobe in your – in the spare room. You would draw too much unwanted attention if you returned dressed the way you are now.”

Christine wondered if that was his true reasoning, or if he simply wanted to keep the wedding dress as a memento to torment himself with.

She obeyed his instructions for the last time, selecting a simple yet elegant dark blue day dress out of the assortment of clothes Erik had kept on hand for her since the first time she had spent the night in his home.

When she re-entered the sitting room to say her final goodbyes, Erik was kneeling on the floor, desperately clutching the veil she had so carelessly discarded earlier, a look of terrible sorrow etched across his distorted face. He brought the fabric to his misshapen nose, trying to inhale the little bit of her perfume that might cling to it.

His eyes flew open and he looked up at her in surprise when he heard her footsteps. He clearly had not expected her to come back.

Erik stood up slowly, wiping invisible dust from his trousers, straightening his jacket, as if after all that had transpired, it was still of the utmost importance that he look presentable to her. Maybe his habit of dressing so nicely was an attempt to compensate for the imperfection of his face, she suddenly realized.

A tentative smile formed on his lips as he watched her, silently waiting for whatever last scrap of kindness she would offer him before stepping out of his life for good. Christine could almost feel her heart breaking as she removed the ring he had thrust on her finger earlier that night, holding it out towards him. The ring was supposed to be a promise, a physical sign that their lives would forever be entwined. It did not feel right to keep it.

Erik’s smile disappeared as he reached for the ring, holding her hand in his for a moment while he looked into her eyes, silently begging her to change her mind. She gave a minute shake of her head before letting go of the ring and withdrawing her hand, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

Christine did not say goodbye, her voice unable to get the word out. She turned around and walked away, forcing herself to set one foot in front of the other until she had reached the door. If she did not leave now, she never would, and she knew she had to.

At the door, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. One last glance at the man who had taught her voice to soar. He was still watching her, and when he noticed her looking at him he nodded once, as if to say: “It’s alright. Go. I understand.”

Trying to keep her tears at bay, she stepped over the threshold and made her way to the jetty, where the boat lay waiting for her. She knew she was making the right decision by leaving. But then why did it feel as if she was leaving a part of her heart behind?

As Christine steered the boat to the other side and removed herself from his life forever, Erik’s almost inhuman scream of loss and despair echoed across the underground lake. It was a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her days.

#potober #potober 2021 #phantom of the opera #poto fanfiction #poto fanfic #phanfiction #phanfic #eline writes #my writing

[bread-elf]

DWC 2021 - Day 3

Compromised Chain of Dominion “Well this is embarrassing…” Jiroki muses out loud, staring down at the ground that’s yards away from her, feet dangling in the air. In the depths of a hot, nasty smelling cave that belongs to an Orge. A contract gone wrong and now compromised, the mission being to retrieve a magi’s staff that they use as a foci, which somehow got into the hands of said Orge, who Jiroki can see right now preparing a big pot of water. Though she doesn’t talk to herself. She speaks to the comrade she had brought along tied up and suspended with her, who is right behind her. “So…” Orinous Lovias, Silvermoon’s Shovel Knight, speaks up behind her. “I know before this you said you were a bit ‘out of shape’ since you haven’t been working for awhile. But this wasn't what I had in mind." The pair tied together back-to-back, another rope attached to their bondings that suspended them from the ceiling of the cave.

“Shut up!” Jiroki gives a deep growl over her shoulder, borderlining bestial despite being just a Kaldorei. Though she huffs a breath and looks around, eyes constantly scanning. “Just think of a way for us to get out of here; I’m open to ideas.” “Can’t you just use your fancy moves and summon your glaive? I’ve seen you do it.” Orinous suggests. “I need my hands free for that. If I were to do that now, it would get trapped between us, or in us.” “Ooh, right…” The Sin’dorei goes quiet, also scanning the area as well, his half he can see at the least. Facing more towards the Ogre than Jiroki, he can see the brutish beast going through ‘ingredients’. Different fungi and spoiled meats get tossed into the cauldron, and even a rock. “Elfie stew, elfie stew~” A single eye to match his single head, the Ogre has a sing-song attitude as he stews his cauldron, looking forward to a meal of stringy elven meat. The ingredients are mixed in, a fire roaring beneath, and he steps away to fish for something more. Amongst the tools and decor of the cave Orinous’ eyes glance around, and while the Ogre moves aside a few hanging items on the far side of the cave something glints. “Jiro! Jiro!” He quickly whispers, shifting his body some to get her attention. “I see it! The staff!” “What?! Where?!” She in turn tries to look, but can’t see from the current angle, trying to get them to turn a bit. The staff in question is hanging on the cave wall, alongside other different weapons and tools. The Ogre reaches for a huge mallet, pulling it off its hanger. Though he pauses at the staff, grasping hold of it. Taking the staff, he reaches it behind his back and begins to scratch himself, using it like a back scratcher. Some dirt and grime get scraped onto the staff in the process, the Ogre sighing in great relief. Once satisfied with his back he pulls the staff forward again, and starts to pick something out from his teeth. “Ew! That’s disgusting!” Jiroki hisses, looking away so she doesn’t have to burn her eyes with the sights of an Ogre just living his life. “Ooh, the contractor isn’t going to like that.” Orinous states, though he can’t help it as a small chuckle forces its way out of him. The staff is returned to its spot, and the Ogre begins to move away. “Glubglub out of leeches!” The Ogre’s voice booms out, looking over at his hanging prizes. “Stay put! Be back!” And then lumbers out of the cave, heavy footfalls shaking the ground until they become more and more distant. “We have to think of something fast-” Jiroki says, taking a look around near the ground for any ideas. Orinous ends up looking up at the rope bindings up ahead, seeing what it was attached to. The cave had many stalagmites and stalactites in it, though with the Ogre’s living area the stalagmites had been crushed. Though up above the stalactites remained, nooks and crannies hidden in between their formations, and a piece of wood had been wedged in there where their rope was tied too. But the wood already looked splintered and partially crushed, as if mishandled by very large burly hands. “Hey- start swinging!” Orinous says, then starts to use his legs to heave himself forward, trying to get his momentum going. “What- ow, hey!” Feeling bits of his armor poke and prod at her as he moves, though she starts to move her legs as well, using their length to her advantage to make their swings bigger and bigger. Her ears twitch as she hears the bit of wood start to creak in protest, and she tries to make them bigger all the way up until the wood snaps. Both suddenly plummet hard to the ground, weighted down by their armor. There’s little time for them to react, Jiroki trying to land on her feet, but she’s yanked by Orinous much heavier weight due to his plate armor, and a burst of white hot pain courses through their bodies on impact. “Sunwell’s Ass!” A curse slips out of the chivalrous knight, the two groaning in pain as they slump to their sides. Though both are well trained warriors, they keep their focus and start to make their way back up, at least to a sitting

position. “I don’t think that bastard brought my bow in here-” Jiroki says, having lost it in their initial capture, though something else catches her eye. “There’s a sharp blade hanging up there, we can use it to cut the rope.” Looking to where the Ogre’s tool rack rests, holding the staff as well. “Alright, stand on three?” Orinous suggests, and starts a countdown. Once on three they both move to get up, and at first it seems like it will work. But the Ogre had tied them with their heads in line, and they had almost forgotten their height difference. They stumble and Jiroki can’t stand straight, and in their haste they begin a squatted crab walk towards the rack. An old, Orcish made heavy blade is on the rack. “It’s too high!” Orinous looks up where the blade hangs waaaaay up high, an easy reach for an Ogre, but not so much for a pair of tied up elves. Jiroki grinds her jaw, thinks for a moment, then nods. “I have an idea.” Trying to force the pair to move, making them turn so Orinous is facing the rack. “I’ll lift, and you try to get it, ok?” “Wait, you’re going to lift- woah!” Orinous is taken by surprise as the Kaldorei woman suddenly leans forward, hoisting him up onto her back and lifting him off the ground. The tall woman puts her tall, strong legs to use as she straightens them, giving Orinous a bit more height. She steps backward, getting him close to the wall, and he plants his feet along the rock. “Dear Goddess, you’re heavy!” Jiroki wheezes. “I’m in plate armor!” Orinous counters back, though his feet start sliding up to reach up higher towards the blade. “But this is- wow, I’ve never been lifted up like this before!” He can’t help but give a little chuckle. “It’s actually pretty sexy-” “HURRY UP!” “Right, on it-” His feet point up, and he can touch the blade with them. But it’s hooked onto the rack, and he can’t pry it off. Resorting to kicks, he gives it multiple ones to try and knock it off, the blade clanking against his armor leggings numerous times, until his efforts are rewarded. The blade handle plucks off the rack, though falls towards them. “Ah-!” Orinous yelps at seeing it come down, though thankfully the side of the blade just bumps into him, and it clatters to the floor. Just in time too, because Jiroki’s knees give out, and she drops. Managing to turn a bit so the heavy plated elf doesn’t land flat on her, but he too is roughed up again as they both land hard on their sides. Light thumping is heard, steadily growing in sound and also felt in the ground, the Ogre making it’s return. The pair try to get up, but Orinous quickly scoots over and drags Jiroki along, getting closer to the blade to start cutting away at their binds. When the Ogre steps in, it only takes him a few seconds to realize his captured prey were on the ground. “Hey! Glubglub said stay put!” The Ogre drops a soaked sack, inside writhing with leeches, and he moves forward in just a few, quick steps that thunder against the ground. But the elves manage to free themselves, and they quickly bound in different directions to avoid the oncoming mallet that crashes on the floor where they just were. The ground splinters and cracks from the sheer force; if either were standing there they would have been pulverized. Freed from his bondings, Orinous seizes his shovel, brandishing it like he would a weapon. “You brute!” He declares. “Prepare for justice… Shovel justice!” And by sheer willpower his shovel flares to life, the power of the Holy Light coursing through it. “STEEL THY SHOVEL!!” The Ogre roars back in challenge, and charges the Shovel Knight. Orinous takes a few steps back to lead the Ogre in, and Glubglub raises his mallet high to crush the puny elf. But as the Ogre does, Orinous raises his shovel to deflect, and there’s a blaze of light as the Holy Light deflects the blow and protects the paladin. As the two face off with one another Jiroki looks up to the staff, their bounty. The Kaldorei has thousands upon thousands of years of climbing experience, and the jagged rock is nothing to her as she quickly climbs

up the wall, finding proper footing here and feeling for something to grab there. She makes it up towards the rack, and reaches over to grab hold of the staff. At her touch, for a brief moment the head piece sparks in reaction, and it draws the attention of the Ogre. “Glubglub’s back scratchy! No touchie!” The Shovel Knight is ignored as the Ogre begins to storm over towards the she-elf with booming steps. Jiroki bounds off the wall and lands on her feet nimbly, wielding the staff in both hands. Albeit untrained, she has her own magical properties, and concentrates to unleash a blast of arcane energy at the Ogre. And yet, being untrained, the blast goes completely awry. Staff pointed forward, the projectile rockets to the side instead, blasting into the rock and into random objects, and debris showers everywhere in the cave. Even Orinous has to shield himself from the sudden shower of debris, though something clatters near his feet. Taking a look down; it’s a old wooden shield! Round and beautiful, his heart almost skips a beat, but it gives him an idea. “Glubglub ANGRY!” The Ogre roars, trying to smash Jiroki with his mallet in multiple strikes. The Kaldorei uses her agility to dodge the strikes, but can only keep up for so long before stumbling, losing her footing because of the ground constantly shaking. She gasps as she looks up, seeing the mallet about to aim right at her. Shield in hand, Orinous preps it on his shoulder and begins to spin as if ready to play shotput, and then hurls the shield with all his might at the Ogre. Upon leaving his hand the shield flares with Light, just like his shovel, and it flies straight for the Ogres’ head. A bullseye is made, and the Ogre is stunned, stumbling forward and dropping his mallet. He roars in agony, but the stun gives Jiroki enough time to sprawl away before he flops forward. Even in heavy plate armor the Shovel Knight can run pretty fast, rushing to aid Jiroki and help her to stand. Pure instinct drives him to take her hand, and he pulls her along as the pair quickly escape the cave before the Ogre can regain his senses. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Once the pair exited the cave they were in the dry realm of the Blasted Lands, and Jiroki immediately leads them North, to the Swamp of Sorrows. There the swamps is familiar territory for her, the base of operations for her mercenaries the Greyshields. And so once they were out of the Blasted Lands and far from the reaches of Glubglub, they came to a halt on one of the paths in the swamp. “That could have gone a lot worse.” Orinous pants, losing his wind from running so much in heavy armor. Jiroki doesn’t fare much better either, bracing herself against a tree as they can finally catch their breath. “Ugh, that was terrible…” Staff in hand, they at least had got what they sought to do. She ends up slumping down against the tree, and Orinous soon follows to sit beside her. “We should uh- probably stick with sparring for a bit longer, before getting you back into the swing of things.” Orinous says, trying to sound light hearted, but gets a snarl in response. “Oh shut up.” Jiroki hisses back, frowning. But her expression isn’t just her typical frown, a mix of something else as well. Filled with shame, as she reaches up to rub her eyes, her elongated ears drooping a tad. “I don’t need your pity. I’ve turned so pathetic.” Orinous watches the prideful woman wallow in her shame. He tries to reassure her though, not wanting her upset. “So this is… Where your Greyshields are?” He asks, sounding curious as he glances around. His question makes her raise a brow, but it distracts her enough. “Yes… Well, over there.” Motioning with a free hand forward. “The other side of the swamp.” “Ah. It’s a, nice place…” He glances around at the swamp, not typically an area he’s familiar with. Though on the other side of him there’s a small patch of wildflowers, tiny petals but in full bloom. He takes one, then looks at her. “Hold still.” “Huh?” She glances at him and blinks as a hand comes up to

her face, but it’s only to brush aside some hair and to place the little flower delicately on one of her ears. “What- What are you doing?” “I saw a pretty flower, and thought it belonged to a pretty woman.” He gives her a charming smile, the chivalrous knight still trying to cheer her up. Then his hand comes down, placing it on top of hers. “You’re a very remarkable person, don’t feel too bad. Once you’re back on your feet, we can go back and really give it to him, what do you say?” A flush of dark purple blossoms on her cheeks from the sweet gesture. Her lips purse together as she glances down shyly, then looks off towards something unseen as she loses herself to her thoughts. Then, back to him. “Have you ever had sex on a ship?” Jiroki asks with no hesitation. Orinous is taken aback, not something he expected to hear so randomly! But he thinks for a moment, trying to recall his former career in the adult industries. “I once did a photoshoot on one, at the shore in Eversong.” He says. “It was some sort of parody off of pirates, harems and what not, big orgy. Er- why?” “Come on.” Jiroki moves to stand up, grasping hold of the staff. “We have a ship anchored over at Marshtide. We can take a rest in my office before heading back.” “Wait-” Now it’s Orinous time to blush, quickly scrambling up, even catching a second wind now that sex was the topic. “But- the mage is waiting for us!” “We got ‘tied up’ with the job, literally. He can wait, and I feel terrible at is. Just let me do something I’m decent at and I’ll feel better.” She takes hold of his hand, and starts to guide him down the path. Orinous is surprised by the sudden turn of events of the evening, but who is he to say no to a woman with a take-charge attitude? “Yes ma’am!” @daily-writing-challenge @orinous

#stories

[cyllaeth]

do i wanna know

Hi! This fic is heavily inspired by this post (i love you!) and wonderful @on-maars who agreed to beta-read this (she writes too! sooo go visit her blog and ao3 and show her some love!) Enjoy! ❤

Find it on ao3.

Itʼs a very boring, slow shift. Theyʼve been on a few ordinary calls, no dramas this time. Oh, theyʼre not complaining—actually itʼs nice and refreshing that LA for once seems to be careful. It doesnʼt happen often so the 118 really is grateful for this peaceful and sleepy evening. The station is silent. Theyʼd eaten Bobbyʼs macʼnʼcheese earlier (it tasted like heaven) and then most of the team decided to take a nap. Bobbyʼs sitting in the kitchen, talking quietly with Athena on the phone. Theyʼre planning another Grant-Nash family dinner because Athenaʼs complaining that David is working way too much and deserves to fully rest. And she wants to make sure heʼll be able to do it. Chimʼs sitting by the table, focused on his baby book; he takes his dad role very seriously and he wants to be as much prepared as he can. Heʼs still a little nervous because what if he will be a bad parent?, but most of the time he manages to shush these thoughts and focus on the bright side. Henʼs also deeply concentrated on her medical book although sheʼs sprawled on the armchair in a very odd position—she should probably get up and stretch her legs but she doesnʼt have the energy to do it and sheʼll probably regret it soon. She repeats quietly some words from time to time; it helps her remember things. Buckʼs on another armchair; heʼs spread out in  an entirely different—and definitely more comfortable—position. Whatʼs maybe surprising for some people, he also has a book in his hands. Heʼs reading about love languages and it seems like itʼs a very engrossing lecture because thereʼs a wrinkle between his brows and he occasionally chuckles at something.

Eddieʼs nowhere in sight. That heavy, drowsy atmosphere at the station got to him very quickly and he went to sleep. It didnʼt go that well, though. He slept maybe for like 20 minutes but then he woke up and kept shifting positions. Itʼs like his brain just couldnʼt shut up. Lying in the bunk doesnʼt make sense anymore so he gets up and goes to the kitchen. Heʼs not surprised to see  his closest coworkers sitting there. They barely notice him when he decides to take a bottle of water from the fridge. He comes closer and stands across the armchair Buckʼs sitting on. He knows his friend is aware of his presence but he still doesnʼt pay attention to him.

Eddie takes a sip from the bottle and then he clears his throat.

“I have this urge to do something stupid”, he says casually because he hopes his friends would understand.

“Iʼm stupid, do me.”

Thereʼs a sudden change of atmosphere. Itʼs no longer sleepy—itʼs almost cracking with electricity. Four sets of eyes are looking in Buckʼs direction. 

Oh, shit. Has Buck really said those words out loud? Panic starts to creep up in his chest because he didnʼt plan to blurt something like this while his friends are here. Or never. Heʼs convinced he just fucked up the most important relationship in his life. But Eddie is not looking at him with disgust, but with disbelief and uncertainty—as if heʼs not quite sure Buckʼs serious or if heʼs just joking. His gaze is piercing, like heʼs trying to read Buckʼs mind.

Chim slams his book on the table and looks very exasperated.

“Really? In front of my baby book?”

He surely sounds irritated but his face is betraying him. Heʼs been waiting for so long for something like this to happen— maybe not this stupid — but something thatʼd push those two idiots to resolve this sexual tension between them.

Hen, on the other hand, looks very cheerful.

“Iʼm gonna be a hundred dollar richer”, she grins widely.

Bobby doesnʼt say much; heʼs completely fine with only being an observer. Heʼs perfected his poker face through the years so the expression on his face is unreadable. Deep down, he hopes that his boys will talk about whatʼs going on between them and they will get together. He doesnʼt even mind if he loses a little bit of money. As long as Buck and Eddie pull their heads out of their asses.

“Wait, why are you gonna be richer?”, asks Buck and he looks at Hen very suspiciously. He prays Eddie would say something and maybe stop looking at him like this because it makes him nervous and more embarrassed. Heʼs sure that his friend noticed already that his cheeks are probably red by now.

“Oh my sweet, clueless Buckaroo”, says Hen, looking at him with a  rather fond expression. “Weʼve had a—”

The bell rings.

Buck has never hated the bell more.

— • —

The call—itʼs not bad. Itʼs not difficult, nothing that they couldnʼt handle. Just a couple of dumbasses at a party doing stupid challenges. They work almost as well as usually—synchronised, effortlessly, quickly—but the tension between Buck and Eddie is even more noticeable, less bearable  than normally. Bobby decides to separate them; Eddie goes with Hen and Buck works with Chim. It doesnʼt help too much. Hen catches Eddie staring at Buckʼs ass and rolls her eyes. Chim claims that Buckley is the obvious one but he clearly hasnʼt seen the way Eddie looks at Buck now. And itʼs definitely not platonic. Hen may be the one who wears glasses but she definitely sees how they look at each other. She nudges Eddie softly to bring him back to reality and to finish their tasks. When theyʼre officially done with helping there, they go back to the firetruck. Buck sits across Eddie, their knees bumping from time to time but they donʼt share a word. They just... Let themselves  glance at each other quickly only to look away just as fast every time their eyes actually meet. Chimʼs jealous of Bobby because he at least doesnʼt have to witness this awkwardness. He doesnʼt try to bring a topic to talk about even if Henʼs silently encouraging him to do so. They spend the rest of the drive in complete silence. Both Chim and Hen pretend to be asleep; Hen opens one eye a few times to check if either Buck or Eddie made some movements, maybe moved closer or, at least, looked at each other but no. They sit still as if someone froze them. Locking them in a closet is a very tempting idea (it was actually Maddie who came up with it) because all of the 118 and their friends are already so done with them dancing around each other for two years. Eventually, they arrive at the station. Buckʼs not in a hurry to leave the firetruck; heʼs nervous and he bites his lip quite hard, wondering if he should bring the topic.

“Eddie?”, he asks with some hesitation in his voice. Eddie finally looks at him and he only nods.

“Guys, can you—”, Bobby wants to hurry them up but heʼs quickly shushed by Hen. 

“Leave them, Cap. Let them do each other.”

Bobby looks horrified at the thought. He eyes both Buck and Eddie very suspiciously and he points the finger at them.

“You two, no making out in the firetruck! And no sex either!”

Buck nearly chokes on his own saliva. This isnʼt something heʼd expected to hear. Especially from Bobby. He tries to explain itʼs not like that, itʼs not like theyʼre going to kiss each other. Buck only wants to apologize to Eddie for saying something this stupid and hopes itʼs gonna be enough for him. But Bobby doesnʼt stay, heʼs already going to the kitchen, Hen and Chim following his steps.

Theyʼre left alone and Buck finally turns around to face Eddie. His friend has a very weird expression on his face and Buckʼs not sure if heʼs able to read it right.

“Having sex with you in the firetruck  wasnʼt my first thought when I said I wanted to do something stupid”, Eddie confesses and he starts to grin. He hasnʼt moved yet but Buck feels like heʼs so close to him heʼs taking his breath away. Okay, this is something he hasnʼt expected either.

“Then what were you thinking about?”, Buck asks. His voice is shaky, unsure but Eddieʼs smile is contagious.

“Iʼm not really sure. I didnʼt have anything particular in mind I think. But you really caught me off guard and I canʼt stop thinking about it since.”

As he says it, heʼs finally moving towards Buck. He stops when thereʼs barely any space between them. They donʼt break eye contact even for a second; Eddie gently cups Buckʼs face in his hands. He strokes the stubble on his friendʼs jaw with his thumb. They let their breaths mingle, their lips maybe an inch away from each other but none of them moves first.

Buckʼs mind is still trying to process what Eddie has said but itʼs hard to form any coherent thought when he can feel the other manʼs body heat and, holy shit, is Eddie hard because of him?

“If youʼre still thinking about doing me, I think it requires at least a little bit of kissing”, manages to say Buck. Heʼs still not sure if itʼs all real or itʼs just his imagination but he doesnʼt care. He retrieved his usual cocky attitude and he knows Eddie likes it.

“Smartass”, Eddie chuckles but then he captures his lips with his own.

Itʼs far from chaste, sweet or innocent. Itʼs very heated, rushed; the kind of  kiss that makes your blood boil. Buck moans softly when Eddie tugs him closer by the belt and he rolls his hips over him. He hears the belt unbuckling and a Spanish curse when Eddieʼs struggling with unzipping his pants. His mindʼs all fuzzy because of all the touches, the kisses, the heated stares. Because, apparently, itʼs all very real and—

Thereʼs a loud bang on the window.

“I told you, no making out in the firetruck”, they hear Bobbyʼs voice but he doesnʼt sound angry or annoyed. Itʼs more amused than anything. And then, they hear footsteps growing quieter which means theyʼre alone again.

“I need to remind Bobby that no making out rule should apply to everybody, not only me”, Buck scowls.

“Wait, you saw something I havenʼt seen and you haven’t told me?”

“I once caught Cap and Athena kissing here. It was gross, theyʼre like my parents”, Buck exclaims, making a very disgusted expression.

Eddie laughs.

“I think we made sure nobody will try to kiss here again. So... What do you think about the showers?”

Buckʼs only response is to lead him to the bathroom.

#911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #buddie drabble #911 fic #lucy writes #lucy's attempt to write

[hufflesmonsters]

New Beginnings

A/N: hi, just dropping in to say I’m writing again >:D enjoy this slow burn. Also, surprise, it’s not a lizard man story though I do have one in the works so there is that.

~*~*~*~

Torren swung the ax down, splitting the log in two. Sweat beaded his brow as the sun bore down on him. He stuck the ax down in the wood stump and stood, wiping away the sweat with the back of his hand as he looked up at the sky. Just past noon, he’d have to get a move on if he was going to be on time for the kings summon. If he even wanted to take the job, whatever it was. If King Richard the second wished to hire a mercenary, it surely couldn’t be for anything fun. He clearly didn’t want to waste his own men for this, which meant that Torren was likely going to die during his job. 

And yet… the money he would get if he lived. He could retire, and finally live his dream of being the towns hermit to its fullest potential. As in, he only ever comes into town on stormy nights to buy ten kegs of ale and disappear for another three months. He grew his own food, hunted his own meat. Of course he kept messing up his tomato plants which meant he had to go into town to get those, but once he can figure it out then mission Hermit was a go. 

Stepping back, he grabbed the shirt he had draped over a nearby branch and walked towards his home. It was a nice little shack, one he’d built from scratch back when he was just a young boy. He had found the location by accident really, one minute he was being chased by his elder brothers, the next he was standing in a clearing with a pond and no one in sight for miles. At first it was just a cool hideout, somewhere he could go to get away from his crazy family and village bullies. But over the years he spent more and more time here, fixing it up and expanding the facilities. Next thing he knew he had completely moved in and claimed the land officially as his. 

Tossing the shirt on the couch, he walked into his bedroom and opened his dresser. He wasn’t sure what he’d need really, if this was a quick trip, and he hoped it was, he’d only really need two shirts, pants and his washing supplies. He already had his armor on, his swords were already by the door, polished and ready to go. He grabbed the shirts, extra pants, and his bag of supplies and stuffed them into a bag that he could tack onto his horses saddle. He’d grab a small coin purse for food and drink, which should cover him for his trip if he was careful. If he ran out of coin he’d only have to offer to chop wood for inns or something like that. 

As he turned to leave, bag in hand, he stopped by the kitchen and grabbed the oat bag for Sweetie. Most of the time she was content to just chew on grass, or even break into gardens and devour everything in sight. But oats, how she loved oats. 

The sun glared at him as he exited the house, he stopped briefly to lock it up before continuing down the path to the pasture. He could already see the giant grazing peacefully, black tail flicking away bugs as her dappled gray coat shone silver in the sunlight. She was truly a magnificent horse, holding a presence without even trying. She was a draft horse, one of the few capable of holding a full grown orc. And she was an absolute sweetie, hence, her name. 

“Got something for you, Sweetie,” Torren called as he entered the stall part of the pasture, grinning as her large head shot up, ears pointed forward and nostrils flaring. She smelled the oats like sharks smell blood in the water. With a graceful trot, she soon stood in front of him, towering over him by two feet. She bent down and nuzzled his cheek lovingly, snorting into his ear as he tried to shove her away. “We don’t have time to cuddle, girl. The King wants us at the castle by midday tomorrow.”

Sweetie snorted and stood upright again, flank twitching as she moved past him and into the tacking area. She was smart, smarter than most horses he’d met. She waited patiently as he began to saddle her, taking his time to secure the bag and oats in a place where she couldn’t get to it. She was tricksy, especially when it came to oats. But she also knew that those were a night time snack, something that he wouldn’t just give out unless they narrowly avoided death and allowed her to have something to chew on while he fought off a panic attack. 

He slid the reins over her head, patting her cheek as she opened her mouth to allow the rod to go in. Once she was fully outfitted, he lead her out of the stalls and closed the doors behind her. He swung up onto her back, and settled in. Gathering the reins, he clicked his tongue and set off down the dirt path that lead into town. The castle wasn’t too far, if he traveled nonstop today he’d be able to make it before midday tomorrow. Talk to the king, get the job done, and they’d be home before they knew it. 

~*~*~*~

Reaching the castle, Torren almost turned back around. He’d heard the rumors, how King Richard the second seemed to… overcompensate. The walls around the kingdom were large, but not as large as the damn castle. It towered over everything, almost as if it was a direct challenge to the gods. It was also very, very ugly with its pale brown coloring and lack of windows.

Showing his summons slip to the guards at the gate, he slowly made his way into the kingdom. It was another thing that irked him about King Richard, he was a man with “purist” beliefs. No race other than human was allowed past the walls without a proper invite. There was no trading, or apprenticeship allowed between humans and others. Which raised another red flag about this job offer, why would a king who hates his kind specifically ask him to complete a task for him. 

Torren tightened his fist on the reins as he watched the crowd wearily. He was going to die, either here or on this job if he wasn’t careful enough. The townsfolk weren’t bad, they looked more open to him than the guards did, but he didn’t dare interact with them. Not even to the young children who waved at him for the guards were watching him just as closely as he was watching them. 

Reaching the palace, he climbed off of Sweetie’s back and handed the reins over to the stable boy, a warning look in his eyes. If they mistreated her, he would rip all of their spines from their backs and beat them to death with it. Torren turned to look at the guards that approached him, back stiff as he towered over them. It was almost laughable, how they escorted him into the palace. 

The inside of the castle was just as ugly as the outside, the same beige walls, no decorations whatsoever. Whoever helped the king design this deserved to be publicly executed. Knights stood at every corner, some seemed to be standing at random places the further they got in. It was almost as if someone had just told them to pick a window and stand. The guards increased as they drew closer to the throne room, all of them standing at attention as they stopped in the middle. The guards beside him stood at attention, hands over heart and back straight. 

One of the guards announced the arrival of the king, everyone else following in salute. Torren looked up in expectation for the infamous King Richard the Second. Looking, looking, out of confusion, his gaze drew down to the floor when an irritated cough sounded. 

Oh, oh gods… 

Torren had to physically bite his tongue as he took in the sight of King Richard the second. No wonder the castle was so large and hideous, this man barely stood past a humans waist. He recalled an old nickname for the king, one that was immediately outlawed in the towns surrounding his kingdom. Little Dick Jr, the bane of all of Pufort. 

Torren knelt in front of the tiny king before any more offense could be given. And he had a lot to give at this moment in time. “Your grace,” he said stiffly. 

“Rise,” came the nasally response. “Do you know why I've called you here, orc?” Dick Jr asked once Torren towered over him again. 

“No, m'lord.” 

“I am a king without a queen, I'm basically a laughing stock in all the kingdoms!” Torren was willing to put money on it, that wasn't the reason why, but he knew better than to say that. “But there's a princess, locked away in a tower due east. And she will be my bride.” 

“And you wish me to retrieve her?” Torren asked for clarification. That didn't sound so hard at all. 

“Yes, it's a week’s journey all together, the roads are treacherous, but I'm sure you're no stranger to that,” again, nothing dangerous. “And then of course there's the active volcano and lava surrounding the castle and the dragon guarding it.” Ah, there it is. 

“I see, that doesn't sound too difficult for me,” Torren said, lying through his teeth. He could handle bandits, he could even sneak past a fucking dragon. But lava? An active volcano? That was something he'd never experienced before and wasn't too keen on the idea. 

“Perfect, we will discuss your payment when you get back. Godspeed, I wish to be married by the end of the month!” Little Dick Jr clapped his hands twice, alerting the guards that he was done talking to the half orc. 

Torren bowed his head and turned to make his leave. If he walked fast enough, he could get out of this city by the time the king reached the stairs. The guards had attempted to follow him out, but after they had to literally run to keep up they quit. It wasn't like he was going to do anything anyways. 

He eyed the gods awful bust of Dick jr. and contemplated tripping into it…

No, no. Not yet. 

~*~*~*~

If there were small miracles, Torren may have found one. Sweetie was in perfect condition when he had retrieved her, granted she had been touched by the stable hands and she made sure to voice her displeasure by biting his shirt and nearly throwing him into a mud pile. Sweetie was a sweetheart up until she had the wrath of the gods placed upon her. 

They had made their way out of the kingdom as fast as they could, and Torren was grateful that the guards didn’t give him an official escort out of the kingdom. Though, he had noticed several guards watching him carefully if he lingered too long in an area. Sure, there was traffic, but he was an orc, that was an unforgivable crime don’t you know? He half expected to get harassed when he passed by the front gate guards, but he was uncomfortably surprised to find that they did not. 

Oh, he was going to die on this mission. He should have gotten his affairs in order, who was going to take after Sweetie when he was gone? His brothers were half a kingdom away and his neighbors didn’t know he existed. Now, he was realizing as he traversed the hills, it was a bad time to be a hermit. Sweetie was smart though, maybe she’d find a new hermit to adopt and go about her life. 

Okay, maybe he should focus on traveling and not his soon to be untimely demise. 

Torren had just crested the hill overlooking the neighboring village when a shout came from his right. Looking over, he was wary to see an elf making his way over on his own sturdy steed. The elf seemed friendly enough, though most elves he met rarely stayed friendly. He paused and waited for the elf to approach, keeping a hand on his dagger just in case. 

The elf wasn’t bad looking, kind of handsome really if Torren was being honest with himself. Tall, a bit taller than most of the elves he met, golden skin that would make King Midas jealous. Long brown hair braided back in practicality rather than aesthetic, though it was a tad too ornate for pure practicality. He was dressed in simple leathers, with elven embroidery up around the shoulders, partially obscured by the cloak he wore. 

  “Hail, friend! I see you came from Pufort, a fine accomplishment for those of us considered too “unpure”,” the elf gave a laugh as he settled beside Sweetie. “Gavril, merc for hire,” he introduced himself as he put his hand out.

“Torren,” Torren said as he took the hand and shook it once. A mutual respect was given to the elf, some mercs stuck together, especially those around Pufort. The land wasn’t known for tolerance, mostly the guards fault, and so it wasn’t common to see many mercs who weren’t human. “What brings you to Pufort?”

“Ah, but the king, of course!” Gavril gave the man a bright smile before his smile dropped. “Better to talk here than in the village. Less ears.”

Torren felt his heart drop at the comment, dear gods was this the end? He hadn’t even made it out of Pufort yet! Gods, the amount of fun his brothers would have when they find out that he died in Pufort of all places… 

“I can see you’re freaking out, fear not, I am not going to say “long live Dickie”,” Gavril let out a laugh, and Torren didn’t appreciate it, like, at all. “He hired me a month back, and when I disappeared he chose to hire you.”

“And I should believe you, why?” Torren actually did believe him, it was just the dick move that Dickie would pull. But he was a distrustful man by nature, and so grilling the elf it was. 

“Why would I lie? Being here in of itself is a death sentence for me if one of his guards spots me,” Gavril shrugged. “No, I felt as if the job was far too… strange for me to complete without the full story.”

“And that story was?” Torren raised a brow as he shifted on Sweetie, who snorted in warning as she grazed. 

“The princess, she’s apparently the daughter of the neighboring kingdom, Aster. I did my research and went to them with the information on Richard. They don’t like the idea of an unsavory man such as him “rescuing” their daughter in such an unhonorable way,” Gavril leaned a bit as his voice dropped. “I was riding by, coming back from another business that I had to attend,  when I happened to have heard he had another summons, I thought it was only fair to let you know about it all.”

“And what, exactly, are you hoping to inform me of other than the princesses misfortunes?” Torren leaned slightly in despite himself. 

“I’m to meet another fellow, a minotaur by the name of Jardor. He was the princess's guard before she was imprisoned so she’d be more trusting of us. Her parents hired me to take her Aster instead of Pufort, and their offer is extended to any other mercenary hired by Richard.”

“And this is legitimate? How do you know they won’t cast you off to Richards' wrath once they have their daughter?” 

Gavril nodded as he sat upright. “A fair question, I, myself, found myself doubting it. However, I asked around their former employers and found that they were actually credible. I understand that you have no reason to believe me, but if you are curious you are more than welcome to come with me to meet up with Jardor.”

“And where is he?” Surely a minotaur would be noticeable around a place like Pufort.

“He was smart enough not to come to the welcoming land of Pufort,” Gavril said with a grin. “He’s in Halder’s Rest in the neighboring village, Stonewall, I believe.” 

“And you just happened to be riding by Pufort and saw me?” Torren raised a brow as he leaned back. 

Gavril let out a soft laugh. “Fair enough, I might have been lingering around to see what the little man’s reaction would have been.”

“How? You couldn’t have been allowed in the city.”

“It’s actually fairly easy to sneak in if you find the really dumb guards,” Gavril said with a smirk. “If you talk fast and use big words to explain away things, they simply just let you in.”

Torren shook his head, “very well. I’ll come with you to this Jardor, but I make no promises that I will join you.”

“Of course,” Gavril gave a bow to his head. “Now, what do you think are the odds that these kind folk will allow us to rest in their undoubtedly comfortable inn?”

“‘Us’?” Torren looked at the elf with furrowed brows. Surely he didn’t think they were going to travel to Halder’s Rest together, did he?

“Yes, ‘us’,” Gavril said with a raised brow. “Surely you didn’t think I’d just abandon you to these unwashed masses, did you?”

“Yes?” Torren wasn’t sure who he pissed off up there, but he was fairly sure he didn’t deserve this kind of forced upon companionship here. 

“Oh, my friend,” Gavril gave a sympathetic pout before clapping Torren on the shoulder. “You’re stuck with me.”

Gods help him.

~*~*~*~

Turns out, the good folk were not willing to rent out their plentiful rooms to two distinguished gentlemen like them. So, seeing as the guards started gathering around them once they exited, the duo had opted to camp out on the spacious planes outside of the village. Pro: it was a nice night out with the stars shining bright; con: there were wolves and they very much were eyeing them as a snack.

Luckily for them, the wolves found a rather unfortunate deer and left them alone for the rest of the night. After that, the sleeping got easier, though Torren still kept a hand on his dagger under his pillow. And if he noticed that Gavril did the same with his staff, well, he wasn’t going to be one to talk. 

The morning was a tense affair, Gavril had cooked and while it smelt delicious Torren wasn’t one for accepting food from strangers. But his mother also raised a gentleman with manners so he ate anyway. And it pissed him off more that it was, indeed, delicious in all honesty.

They set off not long afterwards, mounting their steeds and making their way to Stonewall, a village that was a good two hours away. Both Sweetie and Torren did their best to ride ahead of Gavril and his steed, Farren, however the two seemed to be professionals Thorn in his Side, for they stayed right on his heels, humming a stupid little song.

Torren really pissed off some of the gods. 

But, by the Grace of the gods, they finally made it to Halder's Rest with minimal spats. Or, "character building" in Gavril's mind. The vast difference between Aster's civilians and Pufort's was easily spotted. Where an inhuman was hard to see even just passing through in Pufort, it was hard to not see them in Aster. From vendors, to guards, to just a milk maiden lizard girl. 

It felt… welcoming. 

"Halder's Rest is just down the road,'' Gavril said as he led Farren though the bustling roads. 

Torren let him take the reins, not sure if he should run or not. He had no idea really what sort of situation he was walking into. One kingdom was going to be pissed off, that was for sure. Either Pufort or Aster, and he wasn’t sure which one was better. Aster wasn’t known for its military, sure it had it, but no one had seen it in action in well over a hundred years. They preferred to stay diplomatic in negotiations, and somehow it’s worked so far. And yet, he feared what Aster would do if King Richard the Seconded got his grubby little hands on their daughter. 

But another part feared what the King would do to him if he failed to deliver the princess. He wasn’t the first mercenary, and even Gavril admitted he was cheating death when he hung around Pufort waiting for Torren to leave. Pufort was well known for their military power. King Richard was always willing to fling a fleet at a neighboring kingdom, or hell, even his own people, if he felt there was even a hint of offense at him and his legitimacy of his rule. 

He should run, Torren realized. Like now, right now-

“Hey, there he is!” Gavril said as he pointed at the minotaur guard that stood outside the inn with his arms crossed.  “Jardor!”

Jardor looked up with irritation on his face. He was big, even for a minotaur and just as uniquely colored. Most minotaurs that Torren had come across were either brown or black with white colorations. But Jardor was a multi-colored minotaur, white based but he had russet, black, brown and gray mottled on the skin that was exposed through his armor. His horns were wide and angled high, making him more imposing.

“Stop calling attention to us,” the guard hissed as they drew closer. “You could jeopardize the mission.”

“Oh, please,” Gavril rolled his eyes. “There’s only milkmaids here, it’s not that dangerous.”

“The king could find out and send his fleet,” Torren hissed at the elf. 

“Exactly,” Jardor snorted as he shifted his stance. “Our success depends heavily on stealth. Until we deliver the princess back to the capital of Aster, we are not out of the weeds yet.”

Gavril sighed heavily but nodded. “So, are we heading out or is there other business we need to attend to first here?”

“We’ll head out, most of the pleasantries can be exchanged on the road,” Jardor said as he led them to the guards stables and pulled his draft horse out of the stall. As he mounted, Torren surveyed the town. It was a nice place to be, he supposed. But he still preferred his privacy.

“I don’t believe we met,” Jardor said to him as they set out. “I’m the Princesses’ guard, Jardor Stoneskin. And you?”

“Torren Azorrn,” Torren said finally. “Just got hired from the King-”

“-and poached from me once he left,” Gavril interjected with a cheerful grin.

“Yes,” Torren agreed with a heavy sighed. 

Jardor snorted and shook his head. “Of course,” he sighed. “I apologize for him, he was supposed to go home and then make his way back here. Though I am glad he did make the detour, I doubt I would have survived the trip with just the two of us.”

Torren found himself smiling as Gavril let out a gasp of mock hurt. “It is nice to have a more level headed company,” he agreed as Gavril mumbled to himself as the two men snickered. 

“I will have you two know, I am pleasant company!” Gavril said as he steered his horse next to Sweetie. 

“Of course, my friend,” Jardor said evenly with a placating smile. “Of course.”

“Why did you have to return home, anyways?” Torren asked with a raised brow at the elf. He had only mentioned business arrangements, but going home was an entirely different thing “Was that the other business you mentioned earlier?” 

“It was,” Gavril said defensively. “I have people at home who were waiting on me, had to let them know I’d be back for good later than anticipated.” 

Torren nodded and left it at that, he wasn’t going to judge people for their personal affairs, he knew that if he was still in contact with his own brothers he’d be doing the same. They lapsed into a silence after that, save for the occasional direction change from Jardor the other two were content with just following him. Finally, Torren found himself speaking up. “Jardor, if you’re the princesses’ guard, then why aren’t you with her?”

“Ah, there are two princesses in Aster, the one who is heir to the throne and the second in line should anything happen to the eldest sibling,” Jardor said. “The princess I served was the second in line, though she loathed the whole thing,” he added with a soft smile. “When she was...cursed, I was ordered to stay behind and help protect her sister.”

“So she’s cursed?” Gavril asked with a frown. “You didn’t mention that.”

Jardor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, yes, she’s cursed,” he said stiffly. “The sooner she comes home, I’m sure she’ll be closer to breaking that curse.”

“Isn’t true love usually the factor in those curses?” Gavril asked with a furrowed brow as Torren studied the minotaur. 

“Yes, but that is not the case here,” Jardor said with such confidence neither mercenary knew what to do with that. 

“So what is this curse?” Torren asked. “Why was she moved to such a remote location, surrounded by lava and a dragon?”

“It was considered necessary by the Throne, it was not my place to question it,” Jardor said stiffly. 

“So you did disagree,” Gavril noted. “Which means it likely isn’t a curse, and that makes me so much more intrigued, don’t you feel the same, Torren?” 

Torren didn’t comment. But he did note that the minotaur was clearly hiding something, and that made him all the more wary of this job. He should have just stayed home. 

“Must you grate on my nerves, elf-boy?” Jardor snapped as he looked at the elven mercenary. 

“Ah, elf-boy is actually my younger brother, a cute lad but not nearly as annoying as me, elf-man,” Gavril said with a grin, but it dropped quickly in the wake of a grim expression on his face. “Look, we can deal with a dragon, and even the lava. But if she’s cursed, we need to know exactly what we’re walking into.”

“Nothing dangerous,” Jardor promised, and the two men relaxed just a bit at that. The situation was weird, but Jardor radiated a trusting aura that it was hard to suspect they were walking into a trap. At least for Gavril, Torren always assumed there would be a trap involved when he traveled with others. “Just let me take the lead when we get to the tower, a familiar face will help her.”

“How long has she been locked away?” Torren asked finally. 

“Seven years,” Jardor said with a weary look in his eyes, and deeper down, pain. “It’s high time for her to come home.” He nudged his horse, kicking her into a faster gait as they made their way out of Aster and into the wildlands. “That said, we’re a three day journey away from the tower, it’s in a remote part of the country that few travel by. We shouldn’t face any resistance before the volcano.”

“Well then, let’s get ourselves a princess,” Gavril said with a smirk at Torren as he sent Farren barreling after Jardor. 

Torren sighed heavily and patted Sweetie’s neck, “let’s get this over with,” he said to her as he nudged her side gently, a gentle permission to run with the other horses, a permission that she gladly took as she galloped next to their two companions. In just three days, he’ll be fighting off a dragon surrounded by molten lava just to rescue a princess. That was the only certain thing he knew about this mission, if there was a curse, if they could get her to Aster before the King found out, if he still was getting paid.

Gods, was he still getting paid?

~*~*~*~

[eye of the tiger blasting]

Jardor kept the lead, forging ahead when Gavril decided that bickering with Torren was a Lovely Idea. Both men, both adult men, were constantly five seconds away from getting into a slapping fight that escalated when Gavril, a four year old apparently trapped in a twenty eight year old's body, claimed that Torren had hit him. 

Jardor just let it happen when Torren really did hit him. 

Setting up camp was a horrid affair, all three of them were skilled in camping, but those skills had varying degrees. Jardor could put up an excellent tent, but the sleeping cot kept getting tangled and eventually he just laid out on the mess with a stoic resolve. Torren was an expert in putting out his sleeping cot, but his tent kept falling out on one side and eventually he just moved Sweetie over to help keep it propped up with the promises of getting her an extra big bag of oats. And Gavril would put his tent up, but in the process of laying out his sleeping cot the tent would fall. When he’d try to put the cot up first, the tent would fall and he’d have to find his way back out again. And so, in a moment where his remaining two brain cells bumped together, he tied his tent up to the branches of the tree keeping it up and elevated while Torren glared at him from the inside of his lopsided tent that was beginning to smell of horse.

The morning didn’t help anything either. 

Torren, used to years of cooking and traveling by himself, had woken up early and made himself, and only himself, a nice breakfast. The other two, woken by the pleasant smell of bacon and the heavenly sizzle of fresh eggs being cooked, came out of their tents with growling stomachs and crushing disappointment when they spotted Torren eating it all by himself. Jardor was disappointed, Gavril was dismayed. The two had to fend for themselves, Jardor splitting a piece of jerky with the elf as they glared subtly in Jardor’s case, and blatantly in Gavril’s. 

When they finally set back out again, it was in lesser spirits than the day before. They were less than a day away, according to the smell of sulfur that got increasingly heavier as they traveled on. Gavril could see why no one had rescued the princess prior till now, the lands around the volcano were barren, the roads treacherous by hungry wolves. It was dangerous even for the three of them, he couldn’t imagine a merchant or a lone adventurer braving this land.

Well, maybe Torren.

But everyone else would be fucked.

Jardor let out a soft laugh up ahead and slowed to a stop at the crest of the hill. He glanced back at the two catching up, a light shining in his eyes as he grinned at them. “We’re here,” he announced as the tower, tall and magnificent, loomed below. It wasn’t exactly just a remote tower, Gavril could make out some crumbling structures of a once beautiful palace. He wondered, hoped really, that it was still stable and safe for the princess, surely her parent’s wouldn’t have dumped her into this hell hole if it was unstable. He paused, actually, he’s met some gods awful parent’s. It was a high possibility. But that was neither here nor there, the tower was still far enough away, but they would arrive there within the hour if they paced themselves. They still couldn’t spot the dragon, and none of them were willing to go head on against a fucking dragon.

Torren opened his mouth to speak, to ask what the plan was in case the dragon reared its head. But before he could utter a single word, a horn sounded from behind them. The three turned on their steeds to watch as a troop of soldiers made their way towards the tower, banners flying high, and armor glittering in the sunlight. 

Pufort. 

"Fuck," Gavril said with pursed lips. 

Fuck was right. 

~*~*~*~

Princess Amirah was absolutely, and positively bored. She had nothing else to paint, unless Harold suddenly changed their mind about her painting his scales. She’s run dramatically through the hallways a dozen times this morning, and really she wasn’t feeling it for a thirteenth time. All the books have been read, a countless amount of times. At this point she could quote the books and she did, constantly, to Harold as they cleaned their teeth from their meal each night. Harold never spoke as to whether or not they enjoyed it, but she assumed they would have put an end to it by now if they didn’t. 

She sighed heavily as she paced her room, paint brush in hand as she tried to figure out a new canvas. There was still some room on the window sill, maybe even the dresser if she painted small enough. She paused by the open window, the smell of sulfur no longer bothered her as she breathed it in. She barely remembered the smell of fresh, clean air. Or the sound of bustling streets, the maids coming in with sweet hushed words, her mothers hugs…

Amirah shook her head and smacked her cheek chastisingly with her paint brush. No, no thoughts like that, she’s survived seven years without those things, she can survive many more. In all honesty, she probably could leave. It wasn’t like anyone was going to come looking for her of all the princesses in this unholy tower. They were more likely to go for the skinny blonde overlooking the ocean than her. Which was fine, she was the second born princess of Aster, her sister was always considered the prettiest, the fairest, the princess that all should aspire to be. 

Amirah made it her mission to defy that expectation. She hated the princess duties that her mother and sister had forced her to attend. She hated the expectations that were expected of her as the second in line to the throne. To marry a neighboring kingdom, to secure an alliance between the two. To have their heirs and continue the bloodline. It all made her squeamish honestly. In a perfect life, she wouldn’t mind marrying and settling down on her own terms with someone that she truly loved. But she didn’t have the perfect life, she had her mothers expectations and her sister's legacy. 

She was honestly safer in the tower than back home. 

A strange sound filled the air, and a frown pulled at her lips as she looked off outside. She adjusted her glasses as another horn sounded, a horn of all things. Why would a horn be here, who was blowing the damned thing. They were going to wake Harold up!

Leaning out the window, Amirah let out a gasp as banners crested over the hill. Banners that belonged to Pufort, the kingdom ruled by King Richard. In the distance, she spotted three men charging ahead of the group, and hope glittered in her heart as she spied familiar horns. Was Jardor really here? She didn't know who the other men were, or what she assumed were male honestly she knew some beefy female knights, oh gods was Clarissa here? That would truly make her day. 

Before she could speculate, however, a loud roar filled the air and shook the ground. Clinging to the wall, Amirah looked up in slight fear. She knew that roar, and what it meant. A challenge, anyone who wanted her, had to go through them.

May the Divines bless their poor souls.

#exophilia #orcs #elves #minotaurs #orc boyfriend #elf boyfriend #god i havent posted in so long i forgot how to tag akdjskjrfjew #ok #this is gonna be a SLOW BURN POLYCULE #with a fourth wheel who is there for the clusterfuck #guess who is who this week on WHEN WILL HUFFLES CONTINUE THIS #lmao #kidding I have chapter two in the works bitches #my mental health is questionable but waking up at 4 am now has it merrits #you aren't ready for the concoctions i have in store #edited this bc I forgot that google docs doesn't trasfer to tumblr like it does on ff.net #my writing #sfw

[songtoyou]

Chapter 7: No Such Thing As Good News

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 2,373

Warnings: Swearing

Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

Chapter Summary: Rose wakes up the morning after the gala and her night with Tommy. She meets Isaiah Jesus, who takes her back home. Tommy wants to know more about Louis. We find out that Alfie continues to be a double-crossing little shit. Our favorite Italian mobster catches wind of Tommy taking away his favorite “toy.”

A/N: This chapter was fun to write and brings a lot of new plot development to the story. 

Italics represent past conversations. 

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars​ 

The remainder of the night was not a quiet or restful one for Rose. No, Tommy still had needs that he wanted to be met. While the first session was the most intense, the rest after were a tad tamer. Well, as tame as it came when dealing with Tommy Shelby. It was like the man didn’t have the words soft and slow in his vocabulary. Rose noted that when it came to actual sex with Tommy, everything had to be fast and hard. He seemed to take great pleasure in prolonging Rose’s orgasm or retreating just when she was at her peak. It was a long, drawn-out game for Tommy. 

Tommy had Rose on her back, stomach, knees, and on top of him. For a man who was a notorious chain smoker, his stamina was off the charts. He seemed to finally wear himself out by 3 p.m. With Rose on her stomach and head tucked into the pillow, she was quickly falling asleep. She could feel the light caress of Tommy’s hand up-and-down her back. It was as if the gentle act were lulling him to sleep, and soon Rose could hear his soft snores. 

Rose opened her eyes to look at the man sleeping next to her. With the room dark, she could only vaguely make out Tommy’s features. She was able to see a hint of softness to him as he soundly slept. Turning over on her side, Rose pulled up the blankets and fell asleep.

By morning, Rose was awoken by the curtains being drawn back. The blinding sunlight permeated the room. “What the bloody Hell,” Rose groaned and covered her face with the pillow. “It’s too bright.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, miss,” spoke a female voice. “Here, let me close them a little.”

Uncovering her head, Rose looked to see what looked to be a housekeeper in the bedroom. 

“Hi, I’m Rose,” she introduced herself to the older woman who appeared to have a friendly disposition. 

“Hello, I’m Annie. Mr. Shelby’s housekeeper. I apologize for walking in on you. Must have slipped Mr. Shelby’s mind when he left for work this morning.”

“What! He’s gone? What time is it?” Rose asked, looking for a clock.

“It’s ten in the morning, dear. Would you like me to fix you some coffee or tea?” Annie asked sweetly. 

Rose was about to get up but realized she was still naked. She could not believe she overslept or that Tommy left without any sense of ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you later.’

“No, thank you. I…if you don’t mind, need to take a shower. Then I will be on my way.”

Annie nodded her head and left Rose alone in the guest bedroom. With the door shut, Rose tossed the covers off of her and grabbed her to-go bag. She pulled out her toiletries, some underwear, socks, a bra, along with jeans and a t-shirt. She also hauled out her running shoes and tossed them on the floor. 

For a guest bedroom, the bathroom was huge with a standing tub and walk-in shower. If Rose didn’t have somewhere else to be, she would have opted for a bubble bath. Looking at herself in the mirror, Rose traced every bruise, love bite, and red marks that were plastered over her body. 

“He always leaves his mark,” Rose said to herself. She turned on the shower and stepped inside.

The hot water helped ease the soreness Rose was feeling all throughout her body. She lightly washed away any dried fluids that were left on her. Rose more than noticed the soreness between her legs, which would take a while to subside.

When Rose was finished showering, she dried herself and put on her clothes. She did one more look around to make sure she had everything, sent off a quick text to Louis letting him know she was okay and headed downstairs.

Annie warmly greeted her, “I hung up your dress by the door. It is inside the garment cover. I put your shoes in there as well.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate that very much. Uh, when did Mr. Shelby leave this morning?”

“The same time he always does, about six o’clock,” the housekeeper answered. “He told me to let you sleep in, but I was unaware of which room you would be in.”

“Yeah, yeah, look, I have to get going,” said Rose and retrieved the garment bag. She slung her to-go back over her shoulder and walked outside the townhouse.

Before Rose could head down the street towards the Tube, an unknown voice called out to get her attention.

“Ms. Turner,” said the voice.

Rose turned around to see a young black man leaning next to a car. She had seen him around previously outside of her house or place of work. Rose suspected this was one of Tommy’s guys he ordered to look after her. 

“Yes. What do you want?” she asked, not moving.

“Mr. Shelby told me that you would need a ride back home. I’m Isaiah Jesus,” he said, extending his hand out. When he noticed that Rose’s hands were full, he offered to take her garment bag.

“Thank you. I guess you won’t need directions to my house since I have seen you around,” she said, walking to the car. 

Isaiah opened the trunk and put in Rose’s belongings, and ushered to the backseat door, but Rose cut in, saying, “Do you mind if I sit in the front seat?”

“Not a problem, mam,” replied Isaiah with a smile and opened the passenger door for Rose.

The ride back home was quiet except for the sound of music coming from the car stereo. To cut the quietness, Rose decided to speak up. “How long have you worked for Tommy?”

“For a long time,” Isaiah answered.

“How old are you?”

Isaiah laughed, “I’m 21, mam.”

“Okay, you’re sweet, but knock it off with the whole ‘mam’ thing. Call me Rose, okay.”

“As you wish, Rose. My family, well, my father to be exact, has known the Shelby’s a long time. My father’s family immigrated from the Caribbean to England. He met Tommy, Arthur, and John while serving during the War in Afghanistan back in 2006,” Isaiah shared and went on, “It was not the time to be over there, that is for sure. The arrival of the British soldiers in the southern province of Helmand was met with violence from the reviving Taliban. The Afghanis made sure to let our soldiers know that they were not welcomed over there. My dad, his name is Jeremiah, did not come back the same after that, neither did Tommy or his brothers.”

Rose could not believe this young man was telling her all of this, such revealing information. It all started making more sense to her with Tommy’s behavior. He had all of the signs of someone living with post-traumatic stress. And then top it off with his wife, the person he most likely felt comfortable and vulnerable around, diagnosed unexpectedly with cancers, and then dying. No wonder Tommy was the way he was.

“Wait, your dad is Jeremiah Jesus?”

“Yeah,” Isaiah responded, looking over at Rose.

“I have seen him on the news lately. He leads many of the Black Lives Matter demonstrations,” noted Rose.

Isaiah beamed with pride, “That would be him. He’s amazing. Definitely the type of voice and leader we need right now.”

“Yeah, my son has become more socially active at school and around our community. It is a good thing. I want him to be aware of his privileges and use them for good causes,” Rose responded fondly. 

When Isaiah pulled into Rose’s neighborhood, he parked the car in front of her house. Both got out of the car, and Isaiah helped retrieve Rose’s belongings from the trunk. 

“Thank you, Isaiah, for driving me home. It was nice not having to take the Tube.”

“No problem, Rose. It is my job, after all. I have to get back to London, but someone will be around to look over your house. Have a nice rest of your day,” said Isaiah and tipped his hat to Rose, and retreated back to the car.

Rose walked up to the front door to unlock it and went inside her home. In the car, Isaiah pulled out his phone to call Tommy. By the second ring, Tommy picked it up. “She home?” he asked.

“Yes, Tommy, she is just walked in her house right now,” replied Isaiah, looking over at the house. 

“Okay, good. Once Darren shows up, you can leave,” Tommy instructed Isaiah.

Hanging up the phone, Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a deep breath. When he let it out, he sat back down at his desk. Truth be told, Tommy did feel bad leaving Rose to wake up alone that morning. But he had to get to work. He knew she needed the rest from the previous night. Tommy did not know why, but when he was with Rose, he became a different person. It was as if he felt freer. More relaxed. More willing to pursue his darker desires than he ever had before. The way Tommy was with Rose, he was never like that with Lizzie. 

He was not quite sure what made the two women different. Lizzie, he noticed she would never push back, never quite challenge him. With Rose, he could see there was a fire in her. Tommy especially noticed it last night when she turned the tables on him during his line of questioning. For a second, she caught him off guard but managed to recover quickly. Rose was also more open to his sexual fantasies, whereas Lizzie was never that hardcore. Yes, he and Lizzie would experiment with role-playing or bondage, but it was never to the level he had with Rose. 

There was something about Rose that Tommy could not quite put his finger on. While he knew most everything about the woman, he still felt that he didn’t “know her.” That feeling bothered him. He was a man who liked to know everything about everyone and anything. Rose’s son was a factor that he did not know much about. 

According to information Tommy gathered, Louis was sixteen years old and attended public school. His birthday was July 3, 2003. He currently was in his 11th year at school, with next year being he would enter as a lower 6th. While his grades were decent, he was active with after-school sports like football or basketball. All in all, Tommy needed to determine if Rose’s son was a liability. He needed to meet the kid himself to determine if that was a fact.

Once Rose settled down at home, she opened her laptop and looked through her work email. Rose’s boss, Linda, wouldn’t be in the office today. She had to take her husband to a doctor’s appointment. So Rose knew she could get away with not physically being in the office that morning. However, Rose did not foresee herself oversleeping and missing much of the day’s work. She emailed Linda, letting her know that she was not feeling well that morning. Thankfully, Linda believed Rose and told her to rest up. 

What caught Rose off guard was when Linda mentioned how beautiful she looked last night. 

‘What the fuck,’ Rose said to herself, confused. She reached for her phone and saw the mass of text messages from friends and even her mother, Pam. All wrote how gorgeous she looked at the gala and congratulated her on “bagging” Tommy Shelby. The text from her mother stood out amongst the rest. Pam said she wanted to see Rose and Louis and planned to make a London trip sometime soon. Nothing indicating if Rose’s dad, Geoffrey, would join Pam on the trip. While Rose’s relationship with her mother was somewhat cordial, her relationship with her father was practically non-existent. Geoffrey more than let it be known that he wanted nothing to do with his daughter or grandson. It was one of the big reasons why Rose left Blackpool.

Against Rose’s better judgment, she googled Tommy Shelby. Low and behold, there was an array of articles about him with the mystery woman from last night’s gala, with pictures to boot. A part of her knew this would happen but didn’t quite expect this much attention from her friends, boss, or mother. Thankfully, news in England never lasted longer than 24 hours. Soon, a new shiny toy would be dangled in the face of the nation, and Rose would, literally, be yesterday’s news. She only had about a couple more hours to wait until more important and titillating news came along. 

With a slam of his fist to the desk, Luca Changretta was more than upset. He was angry once he caught sight of the pictures. Luca thought Alfie Solomons was lying when he said that Tommy Shelby had taken something from the Italian mobster. The Jewish gangster never quite stated what it was that Tommy had taken.

“Trust me, mate. You will find out soon enough, eh,” Alfie told Luca over the phone a while back. 

“You better not be fucking with me, Solomons. I know you enjoy playing games with Tommy, but I am no fool,” Luca sneered into the phone.

Alfie just laughed, “I’m not fucking with you. No, I wouldn’t do that to ya. I think our boy Tommy needs a reminder of his place, don’t you think. The lad has gotten a bit too big for his britches. Good ol’ Tom thinks he can take anything he wants with no consequences.”

“Again, Solomons, why should I care what Tommy Shelby does?”

“Well, come Thursday morning, be sure to check the London news. Then you will see. Be sure to call me when you do,” Alfie instructed and hung up the phone.

Luca’s first instinct was to brush Alfie off. The man was always playing tricks. However, there was a part of Luca that was intrigued to find out what Alfie was talking about. The pictures of Tommy with Rose infuriated Luca so much that all he saw was red. Blood red. Blood that needed to be spilled. 

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

[cadence-talle]

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.) 

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off 

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!) 

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting. 

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever. 

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter! 

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts! 

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé. 

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag! 

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.” 

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.” 

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.” 

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.” 

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.” 

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.” 

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts. 

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.” 

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter. 

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her. 

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving. 

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans. 

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.” 

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t-” 

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise. 

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses. 

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!” 

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her. 

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?” 

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter. 

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble. 

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?” 

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont. 

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory. 

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it. 

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund. 

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.” 

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie. 

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more. 

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.” 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois. 

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel. 

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

me

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are 

I know you only do that to annoy me.

me

<3

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy 

Have you tried talking to people?

me

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize. 

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster. 

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side. 

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.” 

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”  

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.” 

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother? 

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.” 

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.” 

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves. 

“You’re even prettier in person.” 

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up. 

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.” 

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks. 

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.” 

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.” 

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.” 

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.” 

Fitz nods. “Neat.” 

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug. 

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze. 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker. 

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?” 

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too. 

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances. 

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs. 

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.” 

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.” 

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.” 

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans. 

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes. 

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up. 

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND. 

“Cookies,” he announces. 

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place. 

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti. 

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile. 

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.) 

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up. 

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.” 

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red. 

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?” 

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number. 

415-623-7868 

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.) 

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good. 

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet. 

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up. 

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.” 

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven. 

What on earth was that. 

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?” 

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?” 

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.” 

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.” 

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile. 

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep. 

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp. 

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.” 

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs. 

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak. 

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods. 

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers. 

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air. 

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is. 

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod. 

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.” 

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back. 

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus. 

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for. 

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel 

Chicago, Illinois. 

Dex can’t sleep. 

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something. 

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty. 

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them. 

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it. 

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.” 

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you. 

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter. 

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head. 

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time. 

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering. 

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.” 

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs. 

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.” 

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.” 

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.” 

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins. 

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing. 

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it. 

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again. 

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room. 

What the fuck was that. 

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.” 

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex. 

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that. 

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him. 

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off. 

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it. 

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve. 

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder. 

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is. 

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win. 

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. 

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug. 

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment. 

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.” 

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss. 

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods. 

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back. 

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.” 

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother. 

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her. 

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household 

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape. 

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing. 

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it. 

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing. 

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.” 

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.” 

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests. 

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.” 

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-” 

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days. 

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.” 

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans. 

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously. 

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.” 

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him. 

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.” 

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look. 

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.” 

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.” 

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?” 

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch. 

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him. 

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing. 

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?” 

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.” 

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm. 

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?” 

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man. 

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.” 

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony. 

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what. 

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say. 

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge. 

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness. 

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes. 

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten! 

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment. 

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little. 

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin. 

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet. 

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City. 

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky. 

#lynn rambles #my writing #kotlc #detz #sophiana #fitz vacker #biana vacker #sophie foster #dex dizznee #edaline ruewen

[freddiesaysalright]

Part of Your World - Chapter 1

Ben!Prince Eric x Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Prince Ben is trying to escape an arranged marriage. A young mermaid wants to escape the sea. Their paths cross and they may just be what the other is looking for. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @queen-paladin​, @rogerina-owns-me​, @mirkwoodshewolf​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: The second installment of my fairy tale/Disney AUs! I hope y’all enjoy Ben in the role of Prince Eric, with a twist on the story you know :)

Warning(s): None!

Moodboard

Chapter 1 here we go!!!

Ben ran. His heart pounded and his lungs ached as he sprinted through the market toward the harbor. This was his last chance. Princess Dana was the last eligible match for him and he didn’t like her. And he took his father’s threat - “So help me, if you don’t like this one, I will choose a woman for you!” - very seriously. So, his only choice was to escape.

He leapt over a cart of cabbages and skidded to a halt. 

“Watch it!” the cabbage merchant warned.

“Sorry,” Ben said.

He wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to so harshly, but he had disguised himself well. He was in his worst clothes, with no jewelry, and had mussed up his hair. He didn’t look anything like a prince. He glanced back the way he came, and breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t being followed.

He took a moment to scan the harbor and find out which ships were leaving. It didn’t matter where they were going, he was getting on it. He spotted a ship at the very end of the row which was being loaded by several men that appeared to be crew members. Ben looked back once more for good measure. With dread, he saw palace guards.

“Damn,” he hissed, and took off toward the ship, hoping they hadn’t caught sight of him.

He approached slowly. He couldn’t reveal himself to be a runaway or they might not take him. The first crewman he saw was actually not a crewman at all. It was a woman. She was strong and tall, but with a soft, delicate face, tanned from the sunny days at sea.

“Excuse me,” Ben began, and she faced. “Is there room on your ship for one more?”

She looked him up and down. 

“No,” she said flatly.

Ben winced and looked over his shoulder. The guards were getting closer.

“Please,” he continued. “It wouldn’t be permanent, I just need a ride out of here.”

“Ari, is this guy bothering you?” said another crewman as they approached. 

Ben quickly realized he was mistaken before. All the people loading this ship were women.

The woman he first spoke to - Ari - shrugged. “Not really. Just needs a ride. No need to fret, Kay.”

Kay was short and thin, with her hair cropped almost to her scalp. She put her wide brimmed hat on and glared suspiciously at Ben.

“We don’t take men on our ship,” she said sternly. “It’s bad luck.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. He had always heard the opposite. But then again, that was from ships with crews of men. Perhaps having a mixed ship at all was what brought bad luck. 

“As I told your friend here, it wouldn’t be permanent,” he said. “I really just need to get away from these shores.”

He looked back again at the steadily approaching guards. They were buying him time since they were stopping to ask so many people. Ari and Kay exchanged a look.

“Are you in trouble for something?” Ari asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Ben said hesitantly. “You’re the only ship that’s leaving this morning. Please.”

“Now that’s something we understand,” Ari said. “Come on, let’s go speak to the captain.”

“Ari!” Kay cried in protest. “He - he’s - he’s a he!”

“I know, but he’s in a pinch,” Ari said. “We may be pirates, but we’re not heartless.”

Ben stopped dead. “Hold on. Pirates?!”

“Duh,” Kay said, rolling her eyes. She pointed to the mast. “Black sails, genius.”

Ben followed the direction of her finger and saw that she was right. He had totally missed the black sails. It seemed foolish now since they stuck out against the bright blue sky. But this was his only chance.

“Hope you’re not scared,” Kay mocked.

He shot her a glare. “I’m not scared!”

“Prove it,” she returned.

He straightened his shoulders and followed Ari. Kay walked behind him, and he could feel her smirking. He braced himself for whoever this captain may be. He knew now that it would be a woman, but what would she be like? Probably unlike any woman he had ever met before.

As he boarded, everyone on deck turned eyes on him. He gulped. These women looked fierce. Mean, even. Especially with the myriad of weapons hanging off each person. He was intimidated. They began to whisper as he passed.

Ari led him over to the captain’s quarters. He took a deep breath to calm himself while she knocked three times on the hard, wooden door.

“Yes?” came a smoky voice from within.

“Captain Behati?” Ari said. “We need your approval for something.”

“Can it wait?” the captain returned. “I’m busy.”

“Unfortunately, there’s a time limit,” Ari replied.

Ben was startled at how quickly the door was snatched open. There stood a tall, beautiful woman, with deep, dark skin. Her hair was twisted into locks that trailed all the way down to the small of her back. Her eyes were a rich brown that reminded Ben of cocoa. Her demeanor was regal and commanding. When she spotted him, he took a step back.

“What is this?” she snapped. “A man on my ship?”

“He’s in trouble with the law,” Ari said. “Could we give him a lift?”

Behati looked intently at him. “A lift where?”

“Dunno,” Ben shrugged. “Just anywhere but here.”

“Give me a reason to help you,” she said.

“I’ve got gold,” he told her. “Lots of it.”

“Now you’re speaking my language, boy,” she laughed. It was a pleasant sound, and he relaxed. “How much do you have on you?”

He dug his coin pouch out of his knapsack and tossed it to her. “Take as much as you like.”

Her eyes roved over him skeptically. “You’re awfully confident - and careless - with your money.”

“Money doesn’t matter much to me,” he said.

In truth, Ben fully intended to find his way back to his home. He just needed his parents to understand - he couldn’t marry someone he didn’t love. Especially these princesses who were duller than sand and had no sense of adventure. They all droned on about being ready to settle down and have children, but that wasn’t what Ben wanted right now. He wanted a partner, who would travel the world with him, who wanted to see more beyond the society she already knew.

He looked back to the harbor and saw the approaching guards.

“Really need a decision here, Captain,” he said.

She glanced over and saw them as well. “The gold will do. Hide below deck.”

He hurried to obey, led by Ari. It was much darker down there, since the only light came from the sun peeking through the cracks between the boards. But it also meant he could listen. He heard the guards march up onto the ship and come to a short stop.

“We’re looking for someone,” said a guard. “A young man. He’s needed for duties at home.”

“There are no men allowed on my ship,” Behati spat back. “I suggest you disembark as well.”

“You haven’t seen anyone?” the guard pressed. 

“No, now remove yourself,” she ordered. “Before I change my mind about killing you.”

“Y-you wouldn’t dare,” the guard returned.

Ben heard the swish of a sword being drawn. He guessed it was Behati’s since he heard the heavy boots of the soldiers shuffle backward.

“You can’t even imagine the things I’d dare to do, soldier,” she said. “Get off my ship. We’re leaving.”

There was a moment’s hesitation and then they all paraded off. When the last of the steps started to die down, Ben went to poke his head out. Behati grabbed his face and forced him back down.

“Stay there until we’re out of sight, fool,” she hissed. “They may be watching.”

Ben frowned, but did as she said. 

He heard the crew women putting everything in order for the departure. It was still another half hour before they were moving, though. It was a slow, steady pace to get out of the harbor. Ben peeked out from the canon holes to see their progress. With a twinge of fear, they were away from the harbor, and he was outside of his father’s rule. On the other hand, it also meant he was outside of his father’s protection.

Ari retrieved him when he was permitted to emerge. The sun was bright and the breeze was cooling. The salty sea air whipped his hair and coat around.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Ari asked politely.

“Um, it’s Eric,” he lied. 

The last thing he needed to do was reveal his true name to a bunch of pirates. He’d become a ransom so fast his head would spin.

“Okay, Eric,” she said. “Why were palace guards looking for you?”

“Am I really to be subjected to interrogations from pirates?” he challenged. “It’s my business.”

She put her hands up innocently and raised her eyebrows. “Just making conversation.”

With that, she walked away, going to help Kay with some of her work. Ben went to the starboard side, toward the bow, and rested his elbows on the ledge, looking out. The open water, with nothing around for miles, looked like freedom to him.

“Hey, boy!” Behati called, and he turned to face her. She pushed some rope into his hands. “If you’re staying, you’re working. We’re not a cruise ship.”

He smiled. “Yeah, alright.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Just get started.”

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered.

“You can, but I’m under no obligation to answer you,” she returned with a smirk. 

“Fair,” he conceded. “But, where exactly are we going?”

“Where we’re always going,” she said. “To find the sea witch.”

Ben blinked. “I’m sorry - the sea witch?!”

***

“Come on, Lorelai, don’t be such a guppy!” you teased.

She swam on behind you and frowned when she caught your eye.

“I’m not a guppy!” she insisted, tail flicking with indignation. “I just don’t see why you’re so obsessed with shipwrecks.”

“They’re the only exciting things that happen here!” you said. “What else do we do?”

“Plenty!” she insisted. “Most of it safely away from human nonsense!”

“You sound like my father,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“Well, King Triton is a smart man, Y/N, maybe you should listen to him.”

You ignored her and kept swimming. This shipwreck was fairly new, but it was close to the shore, which made it dangerous. At least for you. For the humans aboard, it usually meant they survived and returned to land safely. For you to approach it meant it was easier for humans to spot you.

As you and Lorelai got closer, you reverted to sign language. All merpeople followed this practice when approaching shallow waters. To avoid detection by humans, remaining silent was necessary. Especially around a shipwreck. Treasure hunters lingered, and a real live mermaid would be viewed as a greater treasure than all the gold in the world.

You swam through one of the portholes and into the ship. There was rarely anything of interest on the deck of an old ship. Mostly just split wood. The humans always kept their things below. You went first to a pile of things that shone. You had a few friends who had interacted with humans before, and you sometimes asked them to identify things for you. According to them, humans used these utensils to eat. 

Fascinating! You signed to Lorelai.

It was her turn to roll her eyes.

You moved on together after you stuffed one of the items in your bag.

The next thing you found was what appeared to be jewelry. It was a necklace, but it wasn’t made from anything you had ever seen before. All your jewelry was made from pearls, but this gem was shinier. It was completely reflective, like glass. But it wasn’t see-through. 

What do you suppose this is? You signed.

You looked up to see Lorelai’s expression. She wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes were turned upward, where a shadow was approaching. The wide shape with the pointed end was all you needed to know. A ship was coming. And that meant you had to get out of here fast.

Lorelai started out, heading back the way you had entered. She flinched back when something whizzed past her and lodged into the ocean floor beneath the ship. A thick rope was in front of her, taut. She shot you a terrified glance. Humans were here. 

You both swam hard back toward the porthole, racing for the safety of deeper water. Only, another harpoon came hurtling down. You watched with horror as it snagged Lorelai’s braid, pinning her down. You flew to her side and tried to tug the weapon free, to no avail. 

“Y/N!” she cried, panic making her forget the sign language protocol. “Go get something to cut me free!”

“Right!” you returned, and bolted back inside. 

You returned to the utensils and looked wildly around. There had to be something strong enough to cut rope down here. You grinned when you spotted a dagger - still sheathed - in the corner of the room. Snatching it up, you hurried back to Lorelai. 

You came back in time just to hear her scream as the harpoon was being drawn back up toward the surface. You swam determinedly to her, faster than the harpoon was moving. Whipping out the dagger, you brought it down hard against the rope.

That didn’t work. It bounced, forcing your arm back much to your surprise. You looked between the dagger and the rope, astonished.

“Y/N, hurry!” Lorelai urged.

“I’ll have to cut your hair!” you cried.

“I don’t care, just get me out of here, we’re almost to the surface!”

It was a struggle to keep swimming and grab her braid in one hand with the dagger in the other. You brought the sharp end to the side of her braid and began sawing at the strands. It was a bit sad - Lorelai had such beautiful turquoise hair - but you couldn’t think about that now. Hair could grow back. If a fisherman caught her, she would be gone forever. 

“Y/N!” she sobbed as you began rapidly approaching the surface.

If you broke through, it would mean trouble.

“I’m almost done!” you assured her.

You could feel the heat of the sun. You pushed hard with the knife through the final strands of the braid and the tension broke. She was free.

You couldn’t celebrate just yet. Taking her hand, you tugged her back down into the depths with you. As fast as you could go, you hurried away from the ship. Fisherman had all sorts of contraptions beyond harpoons, and you weren’t sure you’d be so lucky again. So, you weren’t waiting around. You and Lorelei swam and swam and swam until your abdomens ached with the effort. There was no sign of the fishermens’ ship.

You came to a stop, panting. Lorelai still had tears in her wide eyes. Without a word, you embraced each other and let out your relief. You held her as she cried. It was such a close call, you understood her fear. You were just as afraid, but you wanted to be strong for her.

“Do you see why they’re so dangerous, Y/N?” she sniffled. “Humans just want to hurt us.”

“Be fair, Lo,” you replied gently. “There are good ones. Like Captain Behati.”

“She’s just a legend!” Lorelai snapped. “I know it’s all interesting to you but look what almost happened! I could have been caught!”

“I’m sorry,” you said earnestly. “But I just think if we all understood each other, we could co-exist!”

She narrowed her eyes at you. 

“If that wasn’t a wake up call, Y/N, then I don’t even know what to do with you,” she said.

With that, she turned tail and stormed off. You watched her fins disappear around a reef with a sigh. 

In all honesty, you didn’t believe most humans to be these evil creatures on the hunt for merpeople. Fishermen were usually just looking for fish. Lorelai was just - quite literally - caught in the crossfire. In fairness to Lorelai, she wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for you insisting she come with you to explore. You headed home, prepared to apologize. 

On your way, you stopped by your cove. It was the place you kept all the human stuff you found. The only people who knew about it were you and Lorelai. As your best friend, she had vowed to keep your secret, even if she didn’t understand. 

This was the one place you felt free. Free to be yourself and explore your interests. Surrounded by all these human artifacts - books, utensils, figurines, and so much more - was where you were authentically you. 

Your favorite thing to do was tinker. Human objects did such wondrous things. You weren’t sure how everything worked, and plenty of things were damaged beyond repair, but every time you made a discovery, it sent such a thrill of joy through you that made you do flips. How could humans be so bad if they made things that created such joy?

You spent a few hours in your solace before returning to the palace. Lorelai needed time to cool off before she would be able to accept your apology. Plus, you were certain word had gotten out about what happened, and you had to mentally prepare yourself for the lecture you were going to get from your father.

You went willingly to the throne room first. You peered around the corner through the door and spotted your father already seated there. He was twirling his trident between his fingers, which you knew to be a sign of irritation. He must know. You decided to play dumb anyway.

“Hello, Father,” you greeted brightly as you swam up. “I’m looking for Lorelai. Have you see-”

“Y/N, what is wrong with you?!” he cried, exasperated. “Why must you always go looking for trouble?”

“I - what do you mean?” you returned innocently.

“You know very well what I mean, young lady!” he shouted. “You took Lorelai to that shipwreck and nearly got her captured by humans!”

You sighed. 

“In fairness, I didn’t know the fishermen would show up,” you said.

“That’s your argument?!” he returned. “Are you serious, Y/N?!”

“But I -”

“I don't want to hear any more out of you!” he cut across you. “You know the rules. Only those with permission to do so may make contact with humans. And only out of necessity! And last time I checked, you’re not on that list! You are forbidden from going to any more shipwrecks!”

You folded your arms across your chest defiantly.

“I didn’t make contact on purpose!” you argued. “Besides, we got away! Everything was fine! You can’t punish me for a close call!”

“Oh, yes I can!”

“No you can’t!” you insisted. “I’m a grown woman now, Father! I don’t have to take your orders if I don’t want to!”

“Well, then, if you will not respect my authority as your father, perhaps you will understand the law of the sea,” he warned. “No one is to approach shipwrecks as long as they live under my ocean! And no one has permission to contact humans under ANY circumstances! You may be my daughter, but you are also my subject, so the laws still apply to you!” 

Your mouth fell open.

“That’s not fair, I -”

“It is perfectly fair!” he interrupted again. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my merpeople safe! I will not have another incident like today!”

“But nothing -”

“Nothing happened this time!” he said. “It is unlikely we will be that fortunate again! Now, leave me! You have a friend you owe an apology to.”

You huffed and turned your back to him. You swam out and toward Lorelai’s house. Your father was right about that last part. The rest of it, you absolutely did not agree with. It felt like he was throwing his weight around as king to punish you. You knew that going to shipwrecks was risky, but it wasn’t inherently bad, nor did it always mean interaction with humans. In fact, today was the only time you had experienced that, and you’d been going through shipwrecks for years.

You knocked softly on Lorelai’s door. 

“Lo?” you said. “It’s me.”

The door swung open and she appeared there. 

“Hey,” she said.

“Look, I’m so sorry about earlier,” you said. “I should never have put you in danger like that, and I feel terrible about it. Are you okay?”

She nodded as a small smile claimed her lips. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Still a little shaken, but I’m alright. If you hadn’t been there, I would have been a goner.”

“You wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t nagged you into coming along,” you returned. “The point is, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Apology accepted,” she said. “How’d your father handle it?”

“It was terrible!” you told her. 

You explained what he said and the new rules. She looked sympathetically at you.

“I know it’s hard, Y/N, but honestly it’s for the best,” she said. “Everyone will be much safer if we keep to ourselves.”

You decided it was better not to argue. You said goodbye and promised to stop by the next day to check on her. She really did seem okay. Frustrated and annoyed, you headed back to your collection cove. You needed to cool down after so much arguing. 

Relieved to be alone and in your happy place, you relaxed against the center stone that served as your chair. You looked around at your glittering collection. Yes, you had plenty of things here, but you wanted more. There was so much still to learn and explore. There was still room on the shelves for human things. There was still something missing.

You looked up toward the surface. A whole world existed up there. Something foreign and intriguing and adventurous. So much more out there than what you had in the familiar corners of the ocean. You had to see it somehow. 

The cove had a tunnel that led all the way up to the surface. You liked to watch the waves rise and fall and reflect the sunlight. Looking up there always made you so hopeful. Even though your father had made these silly rules, you still hoped that someday you would find your way to the human world and experience it for yourself. 

As you watched the water, another shadow appeared. A ship. Something was different about this one. It gave you a new feeling, something stronger than any other ship you had seen before - not that there were many. Curiosity, as well as defiance of your father, drove you to push yourself upward and start swimming toward the forbidden free air. Your tail pushed the water and you began to leave the sea behind. 

When you broke the surface, you sucked in a mouthful of air. You liked the air more than most merfolk. It was liberating to you to leave the water. 

You realized you were mistaken earlier about the reflection on the water. The sun had gone down and the moon was hanging low in the sky. A ship with black sails was gliding through the waves. You followed it. 

You saw the low lights from the ship shining on the inky water, and considered how mysterious the depths of it must be to the humans aboard. You swam closer, but stopped when you heard a shout from someone on deck. Holding your breath, you waited for something to happen. When you saw them dropping the anchor, you heaved a sigh of relief. They had not seen you. 

Taking your life into your hands, you went even closer. You could hear them speaking now. You took hold of one of the ropes hanging down the side and began to climb it. There was a ledge where you could sit and peek through an opening. You bit your lip to keep yourself from grunting as you heaved yourself up. 

It was the first time you had ever completely been out of water. It felt odd to be so dry, but you were excited. Your heart pounded, even faster than it had earlier during the attack with the harpoons. This was not something you were afraid of. It was thrilling. 

You carefully took a seat on the ledge and slid as close as you dared. Turning slowly, you peered in, observing the group of humans gathered on the deck. 

To your surprise, they were all women, except one. The man’s appearance struck you. He was beautiful to look at, with a strong jaw, a wide smile, and bright blonde hair. You watched him take a seat beside a tall woman, who had her arm around the thin one beside her. 

“So, why does Captain Behati want to hunt the sea witch?” asked the man. “I didn’t think people believed in things like that.”

“If you’re going to be at sea, you better understand that believing in those things is a part of life,” said the tall woman. “Captain Behati hunts the sea witch because she must.”

“Why?” the man pressed. “What’s so important about it?”

“To break the curse,” the small woman answered. “You see, the captain was taken from her home by slavers, who were taking her to some foreign land, to sell her to people she had never seen.” 

“She made a daring escape,” the tall woman continued. “Only, she was still in chains, and couldn’t swim. She was sinking slowly, slowly, until she saw...her.” 

“Who?” the man asked. 

“The sea witch,” the small woman said irritably. “Sycoria.”

“Sycoria told Behati she would give her the freedom she so desperately desired,” the tall one added. “But it came with a price. The captain could never set foot on land again. If she does, she will turn to dust, and her soul will belong to Sycoria.” 

The man blinked with surprise. You were also a bit shocked at the story. You knew of Sycoria and the games she played with people’s lives, how she prayed on desperation, but you had no idea the legendary Captain Behati was one of her victims. Captain Behati was something of a myth among merpeople. Some claimed to have seen her and interacted with her, but officially, she was just a rumor. To realize you were on her ship was unbelievable. And you almost cursed because you could never tell anyone you had done this. 

“That’s terrible,” the man said. 

You liked the sound of his voice. It was deep and smooth. It reminded you of sunsets.

“That’s why we hunt her,” the tall woman said. “Kill the witch, and the spell is broken.”

“But why even return to land?” the man wondered. “Won’t she just be taken again?”

The women all laughed. 

“Oh, you silly boy,” said the small one. “I’d like to see a man try to take Captain Behati prisoner now. She will kill him before he can even speak.”

Even though you still had not seen Captain Behati, you liked her. She clearly had the respect of her crew, and she was a force to be reckoned with. As powerful as the ocean herself. 

Suddenly, there was a loud BANG. A flash appeared from a ways down the water. Another ship was nearing. Were you about to be caught in a much more serious crossfire?

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #Queen #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap cast imagine #borhap cast x you #borhap boys #borhap boys x reader #borhap boys imagine #borhap boys x you #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #part of your world series

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Battle: Avengers x gn!Reader (platonic)

S.S: Here’s another one I wrote a while ago. Again probably a little cringey, most of my writing is to me at least, BUT I hope that you like it so enjoy!! Also I changed the perspective of the story so let me know if you like it better!!

Warnings: Mentions of injury, bleeding, a little bit of angst, fluff!

Word Count: 2,366 (its alittle longer than my others, let me know if you want longer stories!)

Author Note: f/c= favorite color, Y/n/n=your nickname

MASTERLIST

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

“Alright team, it’s basic infiltration,” Cap started. “We get what we need and get out. But be prepared for surprises. Without Bruce we don't have as much brawn, or a doctor on board so be careful. Understood?” Everyone around the table in the helicarrier nod or mummer in agreement and understanding as the plane landed.

“Alright let’s do this.” Tony said, leading the charge out of the aircraft towards the Hydra institute. 

Nat and you had made your way to the planned entrance, however were rudely interrupted by Hydra Operatives standing on the other side of the door. You were quick to form my f/c barrier blocking the bullets from the two of us.

Hawkeye had made it to his predetermined eagle eye view and helped Nat take down the Agents as you moved past to the computer room to retrieve intel from the base. Alarms had been set off, and agents were running through the halls and out the doors.

“Incoming your way boys.” you warn Tony, Cap and Thor. 

After retrieving the needed intel you were quick to remove the drive and turn down the hallway to the exit.

“Intel has been recovered. Headed to the jet.” you say over the coms before hearing the cocking of a gun. I hold my hands in the surender position and turn to face an unexpected asset. A Super Soldier.

She was buff and easily taller than 6’5’’. Her face was smudged with black, her dark green eyes staring intently at me. Her automatic rifle aimed in my direction.

“Uh, we got a problem.” you whisper through the coms, a few questions coming back.

“The drive. I need it.” her voice was gruff, as if it was barely used.

“I can't exactly do that, sorry. I’ve got orders.” you shrug.

“I’ve got orders too. The drive or your team dies.” she was persistent, petty threats and the intense stare trying to scare me into submission.

“Alright, fine.” you say lowering your arms. You reach to the pouch attached to your back belt loops, grabbing a small circular weapon. Tossing it her way, immediately letting out gas and smoke causing enough distraction for you to turn and run before she got a chance to aim again.

“We have an enhancement in the field. Female, large and slightly terrifying. Anyone copy?” you reiterate through the coms hoping that someone would come help.

“Can you handle the situation?” Cap’s voice sounded through the static, exasperated and tired.

“I’m working on it. I think I angered her. I threw a smoke bomb in her face.” you ran through the empty hallways, trying to remember the blueprints of the building.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Clint questioned.

“Hey she had an automatic rifle aimed at my head, I didn’t say it was a good choice but it was the first thing I thought of.” you defend as you hid out in an empty and rather dusty room.

The heavy footsteps of boots echoed along the hallway walls outside the door as the Asset searched. You hold your breath as her shadow passed the doorway. Once the sound faded down the hallway you took the opportunity to peek into the hallway seeing it was empty and run towards the exit.

“Alright, I think I lost her, meet you guys at the jet.” you said as you finally reached the exit on the other side of the building.

“Alright. We're almost done here.” Nat informed you.

You made your way around the building only to be stopped by the bulky female dropping in front of you.

“Are you kidding me?” you yell exasperatedly. Placing my hands on my hip and looked at her with an ‘are you serious?’ look. She didn't seem amused.

Her gun was no longer strapped around her torso, which made it easier for me, at least a little bit. Until she held her arm straight out and a gun unfolded from within her arm.

“Shit!” you exclaim as you built a force field, blocking the shot she had taken. “Hey, I could really use some backup!” you yell through the coms, hoping to god that someone could come.

“Hold on kid. We’re still a little caught up.” Tony answered. Another blast hit the teal magic blocking your body.

“I need help asap. This Asset is strong, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold my shield up.” you breath.

“Do your best, we’re almost done.” Clint yelled back.

“You said that like 5 minutes ago!” Another plasmic blast from her gun hit, causing your shield to falter a bit. A blast from where the others were caused some distraction, the Soldier averting her attention to the noise. You were quick to create a ball of energy striking her, causing her to stumble back. 

“What the hell? That should have at least knocked you off your feet!” you yell at her, obviously frustrated. She only raised her appendage, aiming again. You were quick to put up a weak shield before a blast hit.

Unfortunately, it had little effect considering the blast faltered your shield, hitting your exposed side. The pain was immense as the burning sensation overwhelmed your senses.

“Son of a -- I really need backup! Like NOW!” you demand through the comms as one hand grasp at the wound and the other held the broken force field in front of me.

“We’re trying. They keep coming!” Tony responded.

I took a deep breath, another surge of pain sent through my system. I gathered the rest of my energy, dropping the shield and focusing it on myself.

“Come on. Take the shot. I dare you.” you spit at the Soldier whose aim was unmoved. Your vision blurred with black spots and a warm liquid ran over your upper lip. The nosebleed being a result of the focus going into building my energy. “Do it! Shoot Soldier!” you challenge. 

She took it and shot. The blast hit the breast plate covering your chest, triggering an energy blast knocking the Soldier from her position. With the little amount of energy that was built up, it took out the building and knocked anyone on the ground down.

-----------

The few Avengers on the ground recovered quickly, finishing off the few operatives that were still conscious. They looked around and quickly realized what had happened.

“Y/n/n?” Cap called over the ear piece as Tony landed next to him, listening for your voice. “Y/n, do you copy?”  Static silence.

“I’ll fly up and look around. They’re here somewhere. The com probably got damaged.” Tony comforted, himself more than anyone else, before he lifted off.

“We can split up and look around too.” Nat suggested. Cap nodded. Nat and Clint broke off leaving Thor and Cap to search the opposite direction.

Tony flew to the other side of the building searching the grounds and spotting the Super soldier splaying unconscious on the ground in the middle of the grassy area.

“I found the Asset. Y/n’s gotta be here somewhere.” Tony announced, scanning the area. “Friday, do a search for Y/n.”

Within a minute the Scottish A.I. answered “Along the tree line, North west of your position Sir.” Immediately Tony flew down to the pinpoint where Friday detected you.

“I found them! They’re unconscious and wounded. Get back to the jet and start it up!” Tony commanded, scooping your unsettlingly limp body from the ground and flew back to the running jet.

“Friday, Inform Dr. Banner that we need assistance as soon as we land.” Tony instructed the A.I. as he set you down on the center table of the QuinJet. Clint took his place in the pilot seat and the jet jolted forward.

Tony stepped out of his suit and stood next to Cap while looking over your injuries. Nat was quick to grab the gauze stowed under the table and wrapped the wound on your side.

“Will they be alright?” Thor’s usual thundering voice was quiet and laced with concern.

“Ya, they’ll pull through. Don’t worry.” Cap said, lacking the confidence behind his words.

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

The QuinJet landed on the tarmac 30 minutes later and the team was greeted by medical staff. They made quick work to get Y/n onto a stretcher and into the medical bay with the team following close behind with their own injuries. Bruce met them at the double doors that lead back into the surgical hall, blocking the group from moving any farther.

“How about you guys get cleaned up and checked. I’ll keep you updated. They’ll pull through.” he comforted, urging the group to relax, even though he was tense himself. The group nodded in agreeance and went their separate ways.

---------

The rhythmic beeping noise coming from your right matched perfectly with the pounding headache that you were currently experiencing. The intense burning pain radiated from your side once again and you forced my eyes open.

You immediately identified the room as a recovery bay in the SHIELD Hospital Wing. The memory of how you must’ve ended up in this situation came flooding back. You swallowed painfully, trying to remember anything else after the second connecting shot, but nothing came to mind. 

Your hand fumbled around the bed, finding the call button and pressing it in hopes that someone came in with water. The sound of hurried footsteps were heard outside the door and it swung open wildly, revealing a disheveled Dr. Bruce Banner and equally exhausted Tony Stark.

“Oh my god. Thank god you’re awake.” Tony breathed, as he walked to your bedside. You gave him an apologetic smile as Bruce checked over your vitals, writing down a few things here and there.

“I need some water.” you mentioned quietly, trying not to irritate your throat anymore. Tony immediately nodded and left the room.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce's calm voice broke the silence. His dark brown eyes finding yours with the dim light from the hallway seeping into the room, filled with concern and worry.

“Other than being thirsty and tired and in a bit of pain I’m okay. I'm sure I could be 100x better but I’m ok.” you assure him patting that hand he had placed on the hard plastic railings of the bed.

“Alright, well after you drink some water, I’ll give you a bit more morphine to help with the pain and get you some more sleep.” He squeezed your hand as Tony came back through the door with a large water bottle filled with ice water, complete with a straw.

“Bringing out the big guns huh?” you say with a chuckle, immediately regretting the decision when a sharp pain shot through your side. “Alright never gonna laugh again I guess.”

“You’ll get to feeling like yourself in no time kiddo, Just gotta take some time to heal.” Tony stated, helping you into a sitting position to frink.

“Any idea how long that’ll be?” you wondered taking small sips from the bottle as Tony held it steady.

“A fews months, maybe longer, maybe shorter because of your powers. Not quite sure, but that means you can’t do any strenuous activities until you're cleared for good.” Bruce answered, sternly but understanding that it's always hard to be out of commission for a bit.

“Alright fine.” I grumbled laying back against the raised bed. Bruce sent you a reassuring smile.

“Alright I’m gonna give you some more morphine to help with the pain.” He warned “Itll start working in a few minutes.” The clear liquid deposited through the IV tube connected into your arm.

“Get some sleep kid. It’s like 2 am.” Tony chuckled, kissing your forehead and pushing back the hair that stuck to it.

“Why the hell are you guys awake at 2 am?” 

“We just gotta make sure our youngest avenger doesn't cause anymore trouble.” Tony jested poking your nose before turning to leave, Bruce following in his footsteps.

“Bruce, make sure Tony goes to bed. Tony, make sure Bruce goes to bed.” I giggled, carefully, feeling the effects of morphine take over.

“Goodnight Kenzie. See you in the morning.” The two chorused as the door shut leaving the room engulfed into darkness.

---------

Soft whispers and the sound of feet shuffling across the floors rustled you from your drug induced slumber. A series of harsh “shhh’s” filled the room before you opened your eyes slightly to see the group of heroes shuffling into the room, doing their best to be quiet.

“You know for the Earth’s Mightiest heroes, you guys suck at sneaking in.” you mumble sleepily, rolling ever so slightly on your side to face them better.

“Damn it. That’s your fault Legolas.” Tony accused, giving a pointed look to a Clint.

“Dude, I’m a professional spy. It was Thor and his big ass feet.” Clint slapped the God's shoulder.

“I do believe it was Natasha and Steve flirting.” Thor argued.

“It was not. We weren't even talking!” Nat defended herself and Steve while he turned beet red. Bruce shook his head at the antics of the group while he checked your vitals.

They continued their bickering, provoking a burst of laughter from you, which you had forgotten hurt so much, so consequently you groaned in pain moving your hand to the injury.

“You ok?” Steve asked joining Bruce next to the hospital bed.

“Ya, ya just can't laugh too much or I'm gonna rip some stitches.” Tony opened his mouth ready to make some joking remark before you held your hand up “I swear Stark if you make a joke I will rip some stitches and I'll be in pain and you'll be in trouble.” you warned, with a joking tone to keep it more friendly than threatening. He was quick to close his mouth but he had a smirk etched onto his features.

“So what are we gonna do while I’m on bedrest?” you question. Nat was quick to carefully crawl into the bed.

“I'm thinking of a movie marathon!” She exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. Everyone agreed, taking their own seats in the medical room and searching through the movie selection, and knowing that they were always there made you feel protected, no matter what.

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

Thanks for reading... maybe it wasnt too cringy but eh... Anyways hope you enojyed!

#avengers #marvel #mcu #mcufanfic #avengersfanfic #avengerxreader #captainamerica #blackwidow #ironman #thorgodofthunder #hawkeye #hulk #brucebanner #tonystark #steverogers #natasharomanov #thor #readerinsert #fluff

[darkhymns-fic]

A Pair of Would-Be Pastry Chefs

Nothing is better than chocolate brownies - just the trick in making it was a bit of a challenge. But for Lloyd and Colette, little miracles can happen.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Noishe, Dirk Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: This was a request fic done for Umbry on twitter! Also wanted to write a quick colloyd for today. Happy Valentine’s Day!

--

It was Genis who was usually the one making the desserts - so this was entirely new territory for the both of them.

"So is… this the right amount of flour?" Lloyd held out a wooden drinking mug full of the ingredient, practically near to overflowing. Much of it was already on his hands and cheeks, as if he had been recently standing under fresh snowfall. "It said to use a cup but we have a lot of different sized cups here…" Should he have used the smaller ones they had for tea?

Colette turned her head towards Lloyd, her hair tied up in a neat ponytail, though several strands were already loosening from its hold. "Ah, I think that should be okay, if we - uh oh!"

Unfortunately, she had been holding onto the bag of cocoa powder while they were talking.

Noishe was peering at the pair from outside, his head just poking past the front doorway, large ears flicking with each stumble they did throughout their attempt at baking. He whined, keen enough to grab Lloyd's attention as he helped Colette off the floor.

"Can't come in here, Noishe!" he warned. After all, chocolate was bad for dogs! Although Noishe only kept looking at them with worried eyes. But it wasn't like they were going to burn the kitchen down…

All they had really done was heat up the brick oven, and crack a total of one egg into a bowl to whisk with the other ingredients… But two of them, both cocoa powder and flour (Lloyd had to drop his maybe-a-cup to catch a falling Colette) were now spread out all over the floor. 

“Ah, I messed up again…” Colette looked down at her white apron where another third of the spilled cocoa powder had decided to decorate it in erratic patterns. 

“It’s okay! We still have half a bag left. That’s more than enough.” Lloyd blinked at his dropped cup, quickly retrieving it. “I probably should have used the clay ones anyway. They’re not as big.”

Colette sighed as she clutched at the half-empty bag, looking over at the table full of prep work. A quarter-full carton of eggs that Dirk had gotten from the store at Iselia the previous day, several bags full of sugar, brown sugar, as well as chocolate chips, and also a stick of butter that looked dangerously close to melting…

They had barely started on step one of making the red velvet brownies.

Lloyd guessed the source of Colette’s small pout, and quickly picked up the whisk that was meant for the later stirring, eyes going to the bowl that only had yellow yolk in it. “Don’t worry! We just gotta whip all of these together, right? Then we put it in the oven… Wait, when do we put on the frosting?”

“I’m not sure…” Colette admitted. “I was trying to follow Genis’ directions, but there was so much. Also I think I dropped the directions somewhere when I tripped earlier too.”

“Oh.” Lloyd shrugged, taking the bag of cocoa powder from Colette’s hands. “We can just wing it 

then! I kinda remember what Genis did for this...I think.” He was maybe about seventy percent confident on that front.

Both of them were wearing matching aprons that were a few sizes too wide (courtesy of Dirk, who was also lending his kitchen while he went out woodcutting), with the sleeves of their jackets pulled up to their elbows for better movement. There were a few mishaps with some dropped eggs, Colette nearly burning her fingers on a hot cooking tray which Lloyd helped treat quickly, and wondering where exactly the milk was after about twenty minutes of searching through an overstuffed icebox.

Then again, nobody said baking was going to be easy.

“Do you think… we should just buy the chocolate?” Colette suggested, a shy smile on her face. “I’ll just keep messing up…”

“Colette, it’s okay! I told you I wanted to make it with you. We just gotta take it one step at a time.” Lloyd grinned wide, going to the table and practically upturning the rest of the bag of cocoa straight into the bowl. The result was a cloud of chocolatey goodness rolling into the air around them. “Ack!”

Colette coughed as well, and by then Noishe had turned tail and left, as if the chocolate explosion had been another monster. But once the air cleared, Colette looked to Lloyd and started to snicker.

“W-What is it?” Lloyd said, followed by another cough leaving him as some particles of chocolate snuck into his throat.

“Your hair! It looks like chocolate frosting now!” Colette couldn’t stop giggling, looking at Lloyd’s spiky hair like it was the top of a scrumptious ice cream cone. The cocoa powder had given his hair a delicious texture. Even as Lloyd tried to brush it away, it only made his hair look more disheveled and adorable. 

“Sounds like you really want some chocolate if that’s the case,” Lloyd reasoned, hands on his hips. “Come on, let’s make the rest! I bet these will be even better than what Genis can come up with.”

“Hehe, you’re right!”

Of course, both didn’t totally believe that statement, but it was fun to dream. And it cheered up Colette instantaneously, letting her hands handle the butter, the chocolate chips, and even more of the eggs to be added to the bowl. But then they also had to boil up some hot water, grease up the cooking tray, and oh, where had they put the vanilla extract?

It was during all of this that Colette suddenly stopped in mid-motion to blink - and it was because Lloyd had plopped a dollop of their new thick chocolate mixture onto her nose with his whisk, making her blink. “Ah!”

“That’s payback for my hair!” Lloyd stated proudly.

“But Lloyd, you were the one who poured the powder like that to get it in your hair!”

“...Oh, right. Well, this is payback for laughing!” But he was chuckling just as much, and then quickly caught onto the bowl before it tumbled all their hard work on the floor.

Colette had caught it as well, their hands meeting, chocolate still on her face. “Let’s keep going!” Because she felt renewed excitement to try again, that and the oven behind her was getting hot. Dirk had warned them to not leave it on for too long… 

--

In all fairness, Dirk had half-expected to see a bit of smoke coming from within his home when he arrived. Lloyd and Colette were not exactly the most talented of pastry chefs, after all.

But after putting down the handles of his hand-drawn cart to the soil, the cut lumber within its confines, all that he was greeted with was the sight of a boy and girl, no worse for wear than typical chefs trapped all day within a hot kitchen, seated on the doorstep just outside. They were feeding each other what looked like blackened brownies, some of the chocolate chips on its very top falling to the ground. They looked as happy as children discovering their new favorite treats.

“And here I was being worried when Noishe ran up to me earlier,” he said. The named dog poked his head from out of the cart, his green fur an oddity among the different shades of brown. 

“Told you we’d make our chocolates okay!” Lloyd stated, still half-chewing it as he talked. ��And it’s really good, too!”

“Maybe a little burnt though, hehe.” Colette’s hair was now half-untied, her hair also stained with flour and chocolate, but she opened her mouth as Lloyd plopped in another bite of brownie, playfulness in each of their motions. “But, I think it makes it taste better that way,” she said afterwards.

Dirk’s grin could be seen through his beard. “So, I take it that you two are enjoying your Valentine’s then?”

If it had been a few years earlier, before going on their journey together, there may have been a few embarrassed flushes and denials. But Lloyd was grinning wide, reaching to hold on tight to Colette’s hand, neither giving mind to the other’s chocolate-stained fingers. “Yeah, I think it’s been what we needed after everything.” The boy’s face was perfectly alight, the kind of radiance one only got when near something, or someone, precious. It was not a new expression either - it had always been there ever since him and Colette had first met. “Thanks for letting us make it here.”

“And we made some for you too, if you wanted!” Colette said, her smile matching Lloyd’s. It was an ecstatic smile, the kind he would see on her face as a young child, when his son would grab her hand in a game of hide-and-seek.

“You should remember that this is you two’s special day, not mine. But I won’t mind having a small bite later on.”

And as Dirk moved to retrieve the wood from the cart for the fireplace, he tried not to make it too obvious that he could still notice the two of them getting close, to see Lloyd lean in for a quick kiss, and see the flush rise in Colette’s cheeks to match with the red velvet layer of the brownie. Their laughter washed over him like a sun shower. It had really been too long since they had visited last, and was content that they could spend their holiday break here.

He also tried not to show too much outward worry for the smoke he could see building up in the room behind them, the doorway thankfully still open. Only a moment before Colette sensed it, turning around, and for Lloyd to jump up and hurry to get the water from the nearby well.

It didn’t really matter who left the oven on. Dirk had already prepared his home for such accidents long ago. Maybe next time I need to supervise, he thought. But once he had a taste of those chocolate chip brownies himself, long after they had grown cold, he thought he had never had something so sweet before.

It was no surprise. Lloyd and Colette could always make the greatest miracles happen when they were together.

#tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloyd #fanfiction #had the wrong link oops

[multiverse-imagines]

Ryoga x reader- Always Welcome Here

(Reader is meant to be gender neutral)

You walked towards your home after a long day of school and band practice. The streets are still bustling in the Friday night sunset of Akihabara. A few dark clouds have set in above you, but you figure you'll make it home by then. It's a shame you forgot your umbrella. Passing by a park, you see someone laying on the ground. They appear to be unconscious. After your initial panic, you cautiously approach the body, and notice it's a young man around your age. He has a heavy looking backpack, and a yellow bandana around his head. He seemed to be muttering to himself. 

"Damn you… need...food.."

"Hey, are you okay?" You asked. His tired eyes looked up to you, pleading. 

"Can you give me some food? I'm so hungry." He mutters. You reach in your backpack, and grab a granola bar that you had been saving for the last part of your walk home. 

"It's not much, but I hope it helps." The boy rolls over onto his back, and sits up with difficulty. He nearly swallows the bar whole before standing with a sigh. 

"Thank you. That won't hold me for long though." He fretted, "I've gotta find Furinkan High school again."

"Ah, well, you're close, you're in Akihabara. Nerima isn't too far from here."

"Really? Thank you! Well, I'll be seeing ya." He went to wave you goodbye as he left in the opposite direction of Nerima. 

"That's the wrong way!"

"Oh. Thanks." He turned and went the other way. 

"I wasn't done yet!" You say as you feel a single raindrop on your cheek. The rain began to downpour in seconds as you both ran for the safety of the underside of a slide. You made it and let out a sigh of relief, but where was the boy? You peered out from under the slide, and he had vanished, but his clothes remained. You saw movement from under them, and a little black pig emerged. It wore the headband of the boy around its neck. You used your book bag as an umbrella and walked up to the scared little pig. 

"Hey, did you just turn into a pig?" The pig stared at you wide eyed, and nodded in defeat. You sighed. "Alright, we're taking you back to my house. At least this way you can get some food." You picked up his clothes, and stuffed them in his bag. It was pretty light, but the umbrella… the umbrella had to weigh at least 10 Kilograms! (22 pounds) after adjusting to the shock of the weight, you begrudgingly lifted and opened it to use as a proper umbrella to walk the two of you back to your home.

You entered your house, and thankfully no one was home. Your father worked overseas, and your mother would be at work well past 8:30 as always. You grabbed a few towels and dried him off before yourself. 

"Go ahead and wait here on the couch while I go change my clothes." You let him sit in the fluffy pink towel. You put on some sweatpants and a comfy T-shirt then put your clothes in the dryer. You could hardly believe it. A boy turning into a pig with water. The phone rang, and you hurried a shirt on before answering it. 

"Hello, ____ residence."

"Hey, ____?" It was Mom, "I guess there's flooding over the tracks for the train home, so Kazato offered to put me up at her place for the night. I'm sorry I won't be home."

"It's okay, mom. I'll just see you tomorrow." You made yourself sound disappointed. This way your guest wouldn't receive any Berratement from your mom. You said goodnight to your mom and returned to the living room, sitting next to the little pig on the couch. 

"So, you don't seem to be surprised you're a pig. Is there a way to change you back?" You asked. He nodded, and jumped from the couch, and began wandering from room to room; You followed in curiosity. Once he found the bathroom, he jumped onto the tub, and pointed his little hoof at the hot water switch. 

"Is it hot water that turns you back?" He nodded furiously in response, "Alright. Let me get you some clothes first." You left him in the bathroom with the water running while you grabbed a blue T-shirt, and a pair of black loose-fitting basketball shorts. You hoped they would fit him. You walked back to the bathroom, and thankfully found him still as a pig, and the water level seemed high enough now. You shut off the water.

"I'll put your clothes in the wash so you'll have fresh clothes in the morning." He tilted his head, confused. 

"It's supposed to rain all night. I'm not letting you walk all the way to Nerima in the rain. What if you turn into a pig again? Then what was the point of a bath? My Mom isn't gonna be home tonight, so I'm letting you stay." You turned and left to let him bathe in peace. You began making some food for when he returned. 

It was about a half an hour before he emerged, still wearing his headband, but wearing the clothes you had retrieved for him. 

"Thank you." Was the first thing he said as he leaned on the counter next to you, "I'm Ryoga, by the way. Ryoga Hibiki."

"____ ____. And it was no problem, really."

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions." He seemed embarrassed. 

"Yeah, but, can I ask?"

"I suppose if I'm gonna be here all night, I might as well answer any questions you have." He said, picking up his chopsticks. "Let's wait until after we eat. I'm starved." You nodded in agreement, and you picked up the conversation while he helped you with the dishes. 

"Well, how did you become a pig?" He answered with the story of how he was tailing a schoolmate named Ranma Saotome. A rude boy who went to train with his father in China, and he fell into a cursed pond where a pig had drowned. Now whenever he gets doused with cold water, he becomes a pig. He can be human again with warm water. 

"If I hadn't seen if for myself, I never would have believed you." You nodded. Ryoga then went on to mention how many people who have come into contact with Ranma have ended up cursed in one of these pools in Japan. Ranma, his father, and two others have a similar curse of turning into something else via water. 

"That's so strange."

"That Ranma," He growled, "I'll get my revenge someday." He balled his fists up towards his chest, as if restraining himself from punching the nearby wall. 

"Can't you just go back to this Jusenkyo place and change back?"

"Getting there is a battle in itself. I'm, what my family calls, directionally challenged. I can even have a map in my hands and still get lost. Also, getting to China takes money, which I don't have." He grimaced. 

"That's rough," You sighed, "but it makes sense why you didn't know where you were in the park earlier." Ryoga nodded and returned to the couch, placing the blanket you had set there prior over his legs. You sat next to him, turning on the TV. The two of you watched a few game shows, and anime that played on the TV, making small talk as things became relevant. A romantic scene came on at one point, and Ryoga seemed to be bothered by it. It was late before you decided to go to your own room to sleep. You waved Ryoga goodnight as he stretched out on the couch. 

"I'll leave my door open, so let me know if you need anything." Ryoga nodded as he rolled over facing the back of the couch. You retreated to your room and crawled under the covers before falling asleep. The sound of the raindrops hitting harder and faster on the roof. 

You awoke to a large crack of lightning and a crash nearby. You sat up in bed so quickly it made your head spin. Within seconds, Ryoga was in the doorway. 

"_____, are you alright? I heard you scream!" He seemed just as startled as you were. You couldn't recall screaming, but it was probably inaudible over the blood rushing through your ears. You were tried to catch your breath before replying, 

"Yeah, I-I just heard a loud crack of lightning. I think it struck something outside." You said getting out of bed and looking out the window. A street light had fallen on the garage of the house across the street. You looked to your alarm clock to see it dead. The power was out. It was unsettlingly dark in the house now, and it admittedly worried you. 

"Now I'm really glad you aren't out there." You muttered to Ryoga. Another loud clap of thunder nearly shook the house, and you grasped Ryoga's arm. You normally loved thunderstorms, but when the thunder got too loud, you couldn't help but be a little nervous.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice was kinder than it had been.

"Yeah, just a little shaken from how close the lightning is."

"Let's sit in the living room for a bit and relax. Do you have any candles or flashlights?" 

"Yeah, there's some in the bathroom." You led Ryoga through the house to the bathroom, and found the handle to the bathroom cupboard. You felt around, finding the candles your mother used for her relaxing baths, and a lighter. The two of you wandered back to the living room and you managed to light one of the candles, setting it on the table in front of the couch. You lit the other two and placed them near the hallway in case you needed to go down the hallway, and the other in the kitchen, still in view of the living room. You grabbed a couple of juice pouches from the fridge, but made a note not to open it from here onward. After some time of drinking and chatting, you finally felt the tension in your shoulders release. 

"Are you planning on going back to bed?" Ryoga asked. 

"Yeah, but I'm still kind of scared. If that pole had been striked at any other angle, it easily could have fallen on the house." You changed over to him, his face also showed a frown of worry. 

"W-why don't I protect you then…" He trailed off. You felt your face heat up, 

"How… how so?" 

"You could…" His face matched yours in color, "stay on the couch with me." 

"Um, do… you think we'd have more room in… m-my bed?" You were just as nervous about this. 

"Oh, your right. But!" The two of you kept embarrassed eye contact with each other, and after the longest second of your life, you let out a breath, and relaxed yourself. 

"There's more room there, and I'd feel safer there. Let me blow out these two candles, and we'll go to my room." You smiled. Ryoga grabbed the blanket he'd been using and stood by the hall while you blew out the other two candles. You took the remaining candle to light your way to your room. You set the candle on your desk away from any papers, and climbed into bed. Ryoga climbed in after you, and you were now laying between him and the wall. Your bed was a bit small for two people, but it was vastly better than what the couch would have offered. However, Ryoga still seemed uncomfortable. It looked like he would fall off of the bed at any moment. 

"If you aren't comfortable, come closer." You said. You practically heard Ryoga swallow nervously before he inched closer to you. Soon the problem became obvious that Ryoga had nowhere to put his arms. He awkwardly had them folded over his chest, but didn't seem comfortable. You reached for his arm, and gently moved his hand to your side. His other arm went above your head like an extra pillow, and you made yourself comfortable by placing your head in his chest. His arms eventually relaxed and his top arm soon hugged your back. You tangled your legs in with his, and looked up to him in the dark. 

"Better?" You whispered, you heard his breath hitch, before letting out an affirmative noise, "Good. Thanks Ryoga, good night." You snuggled into his chest again, and made the attempt to have your body sleep. As you left consciousness, you felt his hand leave your back to pet your hair. 

The next morning, you woke up to the light coming through your window. The candle had put itself out, and Ryoga still held you. 

"....Akane…" You heard his whisper in his sleep. You wondered who that was. Friend? Family? You'd have to ask when he woke up. You would normally get up and make breakfast, but you were so comfortable you decided to fall asleep again. 

You awoke again to Ryoga shifting in the bed. You felt him get up from the bed. 

"Good morning, Ryoga." You said, your eyes half open. 

“Morning, ____.“ he sounded well rested. You heard the bathroom door close and decided to slowly get up. You noticed your alarm clock's flashing numbers, meaning the lights we're back on. You made your way to the bathroom and heard the toilet flush upon your approach. After a few seconds, Ryoga left the bathroom, carrying his clothes from the dryer. You told him you were gonna make breakfast, and you went about your morning business. You remained in your pajamas since school had been cancelled, and made a quick breakfast for the two of you. You checked the contents of the fridge to see they had remained unscathed by the power outage. As you ate, you remembered Ryoga's muttering from earlier. 

"Hey, Ryoga, you said a name in your sleep last night. Who's Akane?" Ryoga nearly choked on his food, taking a long drink of his juice before replying. 

"Akane… she's. She's the woman I…" He stared solemnly at his plate. 

"You love her?" You tried to finish for him. You gave him the benefit of the doubt he wasn't a murderer. 

"Yeah. I've been in love with her for a very long time now. But she's marrying Ranma, and he doesn't even like her!" His voice raised in volume, "I haven't been able to tell her how I feel and I can't even tell her I turn into a pig! I've spent so much time with her as her pet pig, but she doesn't even know!" Tears filled his eyes with anger. 

"I'm sorry you're going through that. That sucks."

"Yeah, it does…" Ryoga sighed, calming down, "but I'll tell her one day. I'll save her from Ranma, and her and I'll make her so happy." He stabbed a piece of food and ate it angrily.

After the dishes were done, you found Ryoga on the couch rearranging his bag, adding the snacks you gave him for the road. 

"Are you leaving right away?" You asked. 

"In a little bit, yeah. I've gotta get to Nerima to take Akane back." You frowned at this. You'd really become fond of the man you found unconscious in the park and didn't really want him to leave. Once he was ready, you walked him to the street, and faced him in the direction of Nerima. He waved goodbye, and as he left, you stopped him. 

"Ryoga," He turned to you. You kissed his cheek and gently took his hand, "I-if things don't work out, you know, with Akane, you're always welcome here. I'd be more than happy to have you." Your face heated up again, as Ryoga also seemed to pick up on what you were implying. 

"Th-thank you!" He closed shut eyes, "I'll remember that! See you next time, ____!" He shouted as he ran past you in an embarrassed ferver. 

"Wait! Ryoga! You're going the wrong… Way…" You sighed. You chuckled knowing he'd be back someday.

#ryoga hibiki #ranma ½ #ryoga x reader #p chan #i know the ranma fandom is scarce #but here ya go #ryoga is my boy

[willow-salix]

Isolation update!

Day 69 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

Have you ever heard that saying, don't do a flat pack project with someone you love? Yep, well apparently the Tracy boys hadn't. Let me explain.

Virgil and I went out to gather the weekly supplies of essentials, including beard oil, gentle bear shampoo, moisturizer and other things they suddenly deemed essential now that they were hairy and to pick up any orders that had been delivered and were waiting for us.

As usual we made quick work of the essentials shopping, flying through the list as we flew through the aisles, in and out in under an hour, which just goes to show how fast you can get things done when you don’t have Grandma or Gordon with you.

We stopped off at the storage unit on the way home, and once again it was like a magical mystery as to just what might be in there this week. The packages that appeared in there depended on many things, how busy we had been, how bored we were, how much time we had on our hands, which shopping hole I’d fallen into, the reasons were many and varied.

This time we had a number of boxes addressed to Brains, seven weighted hula hoops (because yes, the boys had talked me into agreeing to teach them as well as Kayo) a few other boxes of things that had been ordered and two large, very heavy crates addressed to Gordon. Virgil had to strap on his exo-suit just to get them loaded into Two’s pod.

“What do you think he’s ordered?” I asked as we headed back home.

“It’s Gordon, it could literally be anything, I gave up guessing what he was up to when he was five.”

“That instills me with such confidence, thank you for that.”

“You expected me to lie?”

“No, I expected you to evade the truth for comfort purposes.”

“Next time, ask Scott.”

We left Gordon’s crates in the hanger and went to grab some lunch, and by grab lunch I mean I stole half of John’s sandwich and poured a cup of coffee, that would do, we may have snacked on Doritos on the way home.

“Gordo, you’ve got two crates down in the hanger,” Virgil told him as he took my coffee cup.

“Yesss!” Gordon ran off without another word.

“Is nothing safe in this house?” I asked, pouring another cup of coffee for myself.

“You just took my sandwich,” John pointed out.

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“”How?”

“Because what’s mine is yours and yours is mine, it’s how life works.”

“I don’t think that counts with food.”

“Sure it does, also you have a package,” I slid it over. “Did you buy me something nice?”

“If a new GPU for the gaming computer I’m building for Alan is nice for you, then sure.”

I made a face. “No, it’s fine, he can have it.”

“Generous of you,” he replied, stealing my coffee.

***

Gordon hadn’t returned almost an hour later after we finished our leisurely lunch, so in our infinite wisdom, we decided to track him down and see if he needed any help. It turned out he needed way more than we had expected.

“Gordon, what the heck?” Virgil stared in disbelief, taking in the mass of parts that were spread all over the floor of the hanger. Gordon was sitting in the middle of them, looking like he’d lost the will to live.

“Virgil, thank God, you have to help me,” he begged.

“What do you even have here?” John asked, looking around in disbelief.

“It’s supposed to be a golf cart.”

“A golf cart?” I asked, not sure I’d actually heard him properly. The island had a lot of things but a golf course was not one of them. “Why would you need a golf cart?”

“Two.”

“Bless you.”

“No, two, as in I have two.”

“Two of them? What are you going to do with two golf carts?” I had to ask.

John, being the sensible one, had located the instructions still inside the crate and had been studying them.

“Correction, what are you going to do with two old golf carts from 2006?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. So, will you help me?”

We should never have said yes. That was our first mistake.

Two hours later, Alan, Scott and Brains had joined us and I wasn't talking to any of them because they were just ridiculous.

“How can we not figure out how to put this together?” Gordon groaned. “We have two engineers and an electronics wizard and the rest of us aren't dumb either, yet we still can’t get past this?”

“How long have they been doing this?” Kayo asked me. We were perched on the discarded crate and happily sipping OJ.

“Coming up to three hours now I think.”

“I bet we could do it quicker than them,” she whispered.

“Oh, undoubtedly. All they have done is argue. John is trying to follow the instructions but Brains is trying to improve them.”

She snorted.

“Virgil is trying to go through it methodically and lay out all the pieces, but Alan keeps picking them up and asking John what they are, making him look them up and then putting them back in the wrong place.”

“Typical.”

“And Scott and Gordon are arguing because Scott is trying to direct everyone and Gordon is insisting that it’s his golf cart and it should be his way.”

“I expected nothing less. So, how about it, should we show them how it’s done?”

“Damn straight.”

We dragged the frame out of the crate and pushed it out of the way and then retrieved everything else inside.

“What are you two doing with my golf cart?” Gordon asked.

“We’re putting it together for you,” Kayo answered.

“Yeah right,” he laughed.

“Do you not think we’re capable of putting together a little golf cart?” I asked, narrowing my eyes dangerously.

“I wouldn't answer that if I was you,” Scott advised. But as ever Gordon was in an argumentative mood.

“I wouldn't say incapable, but I think you’ll be there for the next week.”

“I bet we can get it done quicker than you idiots can,” Kayo challenged.

“You’re on,” Gordon stood up to shake both our hands.

It was one of those DIY golf cart kits so it should have been easy enough for the geniuses in this family but, like with most things when all five of them were involved, it had not gone quite to plan.

We located the instructions and sat down to read them and plan out how we were going to tackle it.

“Ground up I think is best,” I suggested.

“Makes sense,” she agreed.

“Set everything out so we know what we have and put it in sections?”

“Yep, that’ll work.”

We spent half an hour hauling everything out of the crate and laying it out.

“Are you girls done prettying up the place?” Gordon called over to us.

We didn't rise to the bait, they were still arguing over which was the front or the back of the seat.

We found the engine mount and lifted it into place, I helped a bit but honestly Kayo is as strong as an ox, she hides a lot of power in her slender frame and she could have probably lifted it on her own. We screwed it into place and then got to work putting together the wiring loom.

The wiring was actually pretty simple, the loom came as a mostly complete unit and all we had to do was make sure we left enough…

“That wire is too short! It doesn't reach. Who had that job?”

“Wiring is down to John!”

“Don’t blame me! I told you that you needed to actually measure it and not just do it by eye!”

“It was still your job!”

OK I take it back, apparently the wiring wasn't simple for everyone.

The rear suspension was a little harder, but between us we managed to figure it out, getting the spindles and lifting blocks to stay in their right places was a bit of a challenge, but we’re girls and we’re used to getting stubborn things to behave and stay where they are put and soon powered through.

We could hear muttering coming from the boys' side of the hanger, and we saw them peeking over at us a little more often than they had before.

“Go get us a drink and some snacks and see if they want anything,” Kayo suggested. I nodded and got up.

“Want a drink, Kay?”

“Sure, can you grab me one of those smoothie bottles?”

“Sure, no worries.” I wandered past the boys on my way out.

“Do you guys want anything from the kitchen?”

“No, we’re good,” Gordon insisted.

“Can you get me a smoothie too?” John asked.

“Sure, babe.”

“Why did you just do that?” Gordon hissed at John.

“Because I'm thirsty?”

“It’s a plot to spy on us and see what we're doing so they can copy us!”

I snorted. “Dude, we wouldnt be stupid enough to copy you guys.”

“Insults now?” Virgil laughed.

“Hey, if the blue pointy cap fits…” I escaped before they could yell at me any more.

I found Grandma in the kitchen, cremating a number of what I think were once chickens, I didn't look too closely.

“Where is everyone?”

“Hangers,” I answered and began to explain.

I came back with drinks and Grandma, who had wanted to join the winning team. I gave John his smoothie and left the rest a few bottles of water and went back to help Kayo with the axel, which she was trying to wrestle into place on her own. I’ll be honest, she was doing most of it herself, but we were having fun, we were chatting and laughing and ignoring the boys, which just annoyed them even more.

With the addition of Grandma for logistics we were steaming through.

With the help of a dolly and a discarded arm of a broken exo-suit we slid the engine into place and screwed it down. It was pretty simple, everything fitted in quite easily and with our more modern tools we had very little trouble.

With the engine fitted we got to work on the rear of the cart, checking the amount of tyre clearance we would need and making sure they spun freely and that the shock absorbers were situated correctly before we tightened everything down.

We could really see this thing coming together. The boys were still arguing like they were on Jerry Springer, yelling at each other, blaming each other for things they either had or hadn't done, and threatening to break various body parts.

“Right girls,” Grandma started one of her famous pep talks as we started to flag. It was late, we were all hungry and sleep was calling us. “You’re on the home stretch now. Get those breaks in, then it’s just the chassis. I’ll sort the wiring in the handle bars. Once that's done it's the finishing touches, seat, lights and horn. Then you can sleep.”

We heard the boys start to mutter under their breath, all huddled together like they were in the playoffs and only had thirty seconds left on the clock. Maybe Grandma should’ve lowered her voice...

“Look at theirs, how did they do that?”

“We’re never getting to bed tonight, are we?”

“Alan is already asleep.”

“Come on, we can’t give up now, guys, we got this.”

“Girls, we can do this. I believe in us,” Grandma encouraged drawing our attention back to her and we nodded, the last thing we’d ever want to do would be let her down.

Following her instructions we got on with the breaks, working together quite well. I didn’t know that much about machinery or anything really, but I can research my butt off and read instructions perfectly. Everyone should read the instructions, I honestly don't know why men seem to be so incapable of it.

Grandma was as good as her word, she had the wires poked through the handles and connected up before we had the chassis on. We fitted the handlebars and the chassis in place and tightened everything up.

We got the seat on while Grandma got the lights connected up and put the bulbs in. The horn was the last thing.

We put the battery on charge, tucked our baby into bed and called it a night.

John slumped his way into the kitchen with Virgil about four in the morning. We’d gone to bed around half two after throwing some pizzas in the oven and having ourselves a little past midnight feast, leaving a few for the boys. I’d gone to bed but couldn't sleep, having eaten late and gone past my tiredness barrier. Deciding that a hot chocolate sounded amazing I’d gotten up again.

The boys were almost dead on their feet. They had taken Alan to bed and tried to bully Scott and Gordon into moving but both had refused to quit, as had Brains, who was apparently over engineering everything and making things so much harder. I don't know how boys manage to make everything so difficult and complicate the simplest of things.

I took pity on them both and made them a hot drink too and warmed up some pizza, making sure they had eaten before I marched them to bed.

“How bad was it?” I asked John after we’d brushed our teeth.

“How bad do you think?”

“Parker trying to explain filling FAB 0’s gas tank to Alan, bad?”

“Times that by ten,” he flopped face first onto the bed and refused to move again.

I’ve still got no clue what Gordon wants with two vintage golf carts, but I guess we’ll find out soon. At least I know one will be properly put together.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds #isolation island #self isolating #social isolation #isolation

[softsichenghours]

la douleur exquise {l.d}

summary: you hated lee donghyuck, and he hated you, too. 

word count: 4.4k 

warnings: angst, a lot of swearing and name calling, kissing

la douleur exquise: the pain of unrequited love.  

you rolled your eyes as donghyuck walked into the lecture hall ten minutes late, interrupting the class. he mumbled an apology to the professor but you knew he didn’t mean it. he glanced around the packed class, trying to find a seat. the only one near him was a seat near the back at the end of the row, right next to you. oh fuck me, you thought as he threw his bag on the floor in front of him and collapsed in the chair next to you.

lee donghyuck. the name that made you cringe whenever it hit your ears. lee donghyuck was popular—and also rude, cocky, and didn’t care about anyone but himself. you didn’t think he was capable of feeling anything but pride. his name was known around your college campus. he went to parties and was in a frat and was always causing trouble with someone, either a guy he upset or a girl he screwed over—he was good at doing both. it didn’t matter that you hated lee donghyuck, you were sure he hated you too. 

    “where are we?” he whispered to you, interrupting you from your note taking. 

    “page 26.” you whispered back, not wanting to cause a disturbance.

    “what was that?” he asked, just to push your buttons. 

    “i said page 26.” you whispered a bit louder, sending a glare in his direction.

    “gimme a pen.” 

    “don’t have one.” you mumbled, trying to focus on what the professor was saying. 

    “c’mon, you have to have like, one pen.” he kept pestering you. 

    “can you just leave me alone?” you whipped your head up to look at him. your tone of voice was a bit too loud, as it caused some heads around you to turn. 

    “fine, be like that.” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. a few short minutes later and you glanced over at him, finding it odd that he actually left you alone, to find him sound asleep under his baseball hat. you rolled your eyes again and turned your eyes back to your laptop. how ignorant, you thought.

obnoxious trap music made your head pound as you maneuvered your way around the sweaty frat house, trying to find your probably drunk roommate, mark, and get out of there. eventually, you were getting tired and couldn’t seem to find him amongst the throng of bodies, so you retreated to the somewhat quieter living room to wait. 

    “look at you, all alone at a party. sucks, huh?” donghyuck’s annoying, higher pitched voice sounded in your ears while you were scrolling through your instagram feed. 

    “shut up, donghyuck.” you sighed, not even taking your eyes off your screen. 

    “ouch, no need to be rude.” he chuckled and propped down next to you on the couch. 

    “can you just go away?” you complained, looking over at him. his mop of messy hair seemed even messier in the humid environment and his dark skin was glowing in the dim light. you couldn’t help but notice how his white button up shirt stuck to his sticky skin, a few buttons popped at the top. a mischievous grin danced on his plump lips as he took his beer bottle from them.

    “nah, i think i’ll just stay here and annoy you a little bit more.” he teased. you chose to ignore him instead of fighting back, so you scooted yourself away from his body and looked at your phone once again. 

    “did you seriously come here all alone? that’s kinda sad, ____.”

    “i came here with mark.” you mumbled in response. 

    “where is he then?”

    “probably drunk somewhere? i don’t know.”

    “then why aren’t you getting drunk with him? aren’t you and him like, a thing?” donghyuck prodded. 

    “no! we’re roommates.” you explained, looking over at him in disbelief. 

    “oh, i see how it is. you’re roommate friendzoned.”

    “i don’t like him.” 

    “that’s what they all say. y’know, i’m sure there’s a self-help book somewhere called ‘i’m a loser and also a snob and i’m being friendzoned by my roommate!’ with your name written all over it.” 

you turned off your phone and glared at the boy. “can you do me a favour?”

    “what is it?”

    “fuck off.” you jeered, standing up and smoothing down your skirt. this time you were going to find mark and leave.

it was nearing midnight before you left the library, surviving on your last sip of now cold coffee. you were dropping tired as you trudged across campus to your apartment, which was odd campus, your heavy bag weighing down your shoulders. it seemed that it was only you out this late; well, only you out this late studying. you were sure there was some party going on somewhere, but so far, you were the only person walking at this hour in the night.

that’s when you seen donghyuck stumbling to his car, the last person you wanted to see tonight. you thought your tired eyes were playing tricks on you because you thought you seen blood on his face and a busted lip. but when you got closer to the boy who was now struggling to get into his car, you realized you were right. he probably pissed someone else off and had to pay the consequences—in a fist fight. you still felt bad. he was still a human and it would guilt you all night if you let him go home like that, knowing he lived far off campus. 

    “hey, donghyuck.” you called, walking until you stopped in front of his car. 

    “what do you want?” he sighed, now fumbling with his keys in the dark. 

    “i wanted to help you, but never mind.” you grumbled, starting to walk again.

    “wait, help with what?” he questioned. you turned back to him and seen his face more clearly up close. he was definitely the loser of that fight. 

     “do you know how to clean those cuts?” you raised an eyebrow, looking at the cut in his eyebrow and the blood that seemed to have stopped dripping from his nose. 

    “and why do you suddenly care?” he scoffed, bringing a bloody hand up to run through his hair. 

    “fine, let them get infected.” you shrugged, turning back around and continuing your walk back to your shared apartment.

    “wait!” 

    “yes?” you stopped in your tracks. 

    “i could use a little help…” 

that’s how lee donghyuck ended up in your small apartment, his eyes wandering around in a  scrutinizing way. 

    “yes, it’s messy, but i’m not the only one living here.” you reminded, closing the door quietly behind you. “so be quiet, mark’s asleep.” 

donghyuck opened his mouth to make a snarky comment about your roommate but decided against it, knowing you would just throw him out into the night, bleeding and bruised.

    “wait here, i’ll get the first aid kit.” you said, disappearing into the bathroom to retrieve the box. when you got back into the tiny kitchen, donghyuck was sitting on the counter, his eyes bore into his phone and his legs swinging. he put his phone down beside him when you walked up to him and started taking things from the first aid kit. 

admittedly, you were a little hesitant to get so close to him, but braved through it to help him. you hated being so empathetic, you always offered assistance where you could, whether in good or bad conditions. 

first, you wiped the blood from his under his nose and around his eyebrow. the slash through his eyebrow was deep, not deep enough for stitches but deep enough to bleed everywhere. you cleaned it with alcohol and water, much to his displeasure. his face contorted with pain, his bloodied knuckles gripping the edge of the counter top. 

    “how do you know how to do this?” he asked through gritted teeth. you took a slight step back from him and laughed almost. 

    “i don’t know, maybe it could be that i’m a nursing major?” you chuckled, coming close to him again. 

    “oh, right.” 

you put a small bandaid through his eyebrow and heard him sigh. 

    “it’s gonna leave a scar, right?” 

    “probably. but it’s gonna be one badass scar though.” you found yourself consoling donghyuck. those were two words you never thought you’d put together in a sentence. 

after cleaning the blood from his lip, you stepped back to look at his bloody knuckles. maybe he hadn’t lost the fight… it was weird to be there, holding donghyuck’s hand—no, it was too weird to refer to it as that—with donghyuck’s knuckles in your face as you worked to bandage them up. it was silent for the most part, until he cleared his throat and spoke up. 

    “why have we hated each other since highschool?” he questioned, and you could see him cocking his head. 

    “i don’t know, because you’re an ass?” you scoffed almost immediately. 

    “don’t act like you’re not a bitch to me.” he fired back, almost tugging his hand away from you. he was right. sometimes you were unnecessarily harsh to him, but at least you had overlooked your pride and helped him when he needed it.

    “i didn’t say i wasn’t. but aren’t i helping you?” you reminded, looking up at him. 

    “okay, then why am i such an ass?” he challenged.

    “seriously?” you laughed. “because you think you’re all that and a bag of chips. and you don’t care about anyone’s feelings. it’s like it’s a new girl, a new fight, each week with you.” 

    donghyuck was silent. “...what if i don’t want this image anymore?” 

his question surprised you. you thought donghyuck’s bad boy reputation was what was most important to him. by now you had bandaged his hands and you were done with him. you took a step back, not answering his question yet. he took this as his cue to leave and hopped down from the counter, his boots hitting the tile loudly. you hoped it hadn’t woken mark. you walked him to the door, but he was still looking for an answer to his question. 

    “then stop being an ass, and stop doing this, and maybe take other people’s feelings into consideration for once. goodnight, donghyuck.” you answered, basically pushing him out the door and into the night.

for some reason, you couldn’t sleep at all that night. your mind was stuck on the encounter you had with donghyuck. you felt good for helping him, but your mind kept replaying his question. he didn’t want that image anymore? maybe he actually wanted to turn his life around and be a good person…maybe he was just drunk, you had smelled a little bit of alcohol on him. 

    “hey butthead, who was here last night?” mark questioned as he tossed the cereal box to you, shaking you from your thoughts as you almost fell asleep at the table. 

    “oh, donghyuck.” you mumbled, stifling a yawn. you hadn’t realized how casually you had said that. oh no, this didn’t look good. 

    “wait, lee donghyuck?” mark raised his eyebrows and sat across from you. 

    “no, the other donghyuck.” you replied sarcastically, pouring cereal into your bowl. 

    “why was he here?” you knew mark was going to comment something sexual, so you cleared it up for him. 

    “he was hurt from a fight and i would’ve felt bad if i let him go home all beaten up, so i cleaned him up a little. he was here for like, ten minutes tops.” 

    “oh, i see.” mark smirked playfully. “remember in highschool when—”

    “don’t even finish that sentence mark lee, so help me god.” you glared at him while shoving your spoon of cereal in your mouth. 

    “okay, okay…” he threw his hands up in defence and chuckled. “i’m seriously shocked you don’t remember when you had the biggest crush on donghyuck in our junior year.” 

of course he brought it up. you grimaced and stared down into your bowl. “i’d rather not remember that, actually.” 

    “i don’t remember you ever growing out of that. you just started hating him out of nowhere one day.” 

    “i didn’t just start hating him out of nowhere, he became an asshole and i didn’t want to be around him anymore.” you sighed, not wanting to talk about it any longer.

    “no, no, that’s not how it happened.” mark started. you forgot that mark and donghyuck used to be best friends.

    “what do you mean?”

    “you hated donghyuck before he became like this. i remember because you just stopped wanting to hang out with us one day, out of the blue. it was really weird.” 

oh shit…oh shit! now you remembered! you didn’t have a valid reason to hate donghyuck at first! you did it to get rid of your crush on him! how had you blocked that from your memory?! 

    “maybe he hates you now because you hated him first.” mark laughed, standing from the table. you merely looked at him with wide eyes, feeling guilty for every time you had been a bitch to donghyuck. you had to remind yourself that he still had this reputation. he was still an asshole, regardless if you were one first. 

    “wait, ____, you don’t…still like donghyuck, do you?” mark questioned. 

    “oh god, don’t plant that in my brain, too.” you said as you felt yourself get queasy. but you let your mind wander to that thought. even though you hated him, you always felt this sort of protectiveness over donghyuck. like the night before, when you didn’t want him to go home hurt. you couldn’t deny how attractive he had gotten, how much he had matured in two years. maybe he was still himself underneath his asshole reputation. maybe that’s why he wanted to get rid of it…

    “oh god, you do like him, don’t you?” mark laughed at your lost expression. 

    “what if i do?” you squeaked out.

he was silent for a moment as he walked up to you. “then you’re screwed.” he smirked and ruffled your hair before passing by you. 

shit.

you pulled your jacket tighter around your body as you walked quickly down the street in the dark. you had just finished dinner with a few friends at a new fancy restaurant and now you were walking back to your apartment by yourself. you were nervous because you knew how dangerous it could be to be a young girl walking alone at night. not to mention you were wearing a tight dress that stopped a bit above your knees, which you tried to cover with your jacket. 

you were nowhere near your apartment when you felt like someone was watching you. you looked around your shoulder but seen no one behind you, and no cars on the narrow street. it was probably just your imagination. you tried to but couldn’t shake the feeling.

soon you were near your college campus, and there were more people walking around you. it made you feel a bit safer, but you still had a weird feeling. 

    “hey babe!” a voice sounded in your ears and an arm was thrown around your shoulders. you were ready to punch the guy square in the nose until you realized it was donghyuck. 

    “what are you—”

    “just play along. some creep was following you.” he whispered into your ear. so your instincts were right. you tried not to think too much about what could’ve happened if donghyuck wasn’t there. so instead, your mind decided to think about the conversation you had had with mark a few days before. wasn’t there anything else to think about than what you felt towards the boy?

while you were walking, donghyuck kept his arm around your shoulder, tightening his grip at times and glancing over his shoulder every now and then. after a while, he turned you both into a dark alleyway and peeked around the corner and down the street. 

    “i think we lost him. he gave me a bad feeling…” donghyuck sighed, frustration and annoyance in his voice. 

    “i think i would’ve been fine.” you said with hostility in your voice. you were actually thankful for what he had done, but you didn’t want to get too nice with him. if your “crush” on him grew big like it was in highschool, you’d just be stupid. 

donghyuck turned back to you, his eyebrows furrowed. “uh, you’re welcome? i just didn’t want you to get murdered.” 

    “hmm, i actually thought you’d like that.” you replied sarcastically. 

    “why the fuck would i want you dead?” he questioned with a chuckle, running a hand through his floppy hair. 

    “well, we do hate each other.” you reminded. “i have to get home.” you knew mark would be worrying, so you walked out of the alley. until you felt a hand on your wrist, holding you back. 

    “what do you want?” you sighed, taking a step back to the boy. before your mind could process it, donghyuck had you pinned against the wall, one hand steady on your wrist, the other on the wall next to your head. his sudden movement elicited a gasp from your lips that you hoped he hadn’t heard. 

    “there’s no need to be such a bitch, ____. i could’ve just kept walking and let that guy do whatever he wanted to you, but i didn’t.” he leaned in closer to you until you could feel his warm breath on your lips. he kept murmuring things to you, but you couldn’t focus. 

you hated lee donghyuck. you hated his stupid smirk and how it always danced across his lips while he talked to you. you hated his stupid hair and the way it fell into his eyes just perfectly. and god, you hated his stupid eyes. his eyes which seemed like they could change with his emotion, how they were wide when he was fearful like the night in your apartment, how they were half closed and full of stars when he was drunk like the night at the party when he wouldn’t stop teasing you, how they were sharp and hooded when he was angry like right now. but most importantly, you hated how you didn’t hate donghyuck. you hated how you had convinced yourself you did. 

    “you’re not even listening to me,” he scoffed. “but fine, don’t be grateful. be a bitch. but you helped me and i helped you. consider us even now.” by the time he finished his sentence, he was so close that all you could picture in your mind was him kissing you so deeply that you forgot your own name. 

    “fuck you, donghyuck.” you smirked. he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, making your stomach flutter and your mind swirl. whether you knew it or not, you had been wanting this for years. you were suddenly fully aware of your feelings for donghyuck, and you knew you were screwed. 

when he pulled away, his lips were red and plump and you could still feel them ghosting over yours. 

    “____…” he cooed your name, his voice softer than it was before. “i don’t want us to hate each other anymore. what can i do for you to stop hating me?” 

it was almost perfect. almost. then you remembered the scene you had seen play out the day before. 

    “bro, i dare you to ask yuri on a date.” one of his obnoxious friends laughed. 

    “yuri? seriously?” donghyuck laughed back in disbelief. 

    “yeah, it’ll be funny.” 

you watched from where you sat in the cafeteria with mark as donghyuck walked right up to yuri, a girl you had known for a very long time, ever since you were kids. yuri was shy. the shyest person you had ever met. she was shy around everyone, including those she knew well. you knew having a boy even talk to her made her anxious and stutter. sadly, she was always teased and picked on because of this. so when you seen donghyuck ask yuri on a date as a prank, you felt like you would explode. you watched as she went wide eyed and just blinked while donghyuck told her where to meet him. you knew donghyuck would never show. 

when he got back to his table, his friends slapped him on the back and laughed about how funny it would be to see the look on her face when he didn’t show up. they even hoped she’d cry. they were cruel. donghyuck was cruel. 

    “what can you do for me to stop hating you? apologize to yuri.” you looked up at him and crossed your arms over your body. 

    “you know we were just joking around with her—”

    “no. yuri and i have been friends forever and that’s just—you don’t do that to someone.” you said, disgust in your voice. “on that note, apologize to every girl you’ve screwed over. it might take a while.” 

    “really, ____?”

    “yes, donghyuck.” you fired back like it was obvious. you escaped from his hold against the wall and took a few steps back from him. “clean up your act and maybe i’ll consider this.” you said, motioning between you two. with that, you left him standing alone in the alley, a forlorn expression on his face.

you had basically given up on thinking about donghyuck. you knew it wasn’t going to happen. you knew he could never change his life like that, not so quickly, not for a girl. he loved being an asshole too much. 

although you didn’t want to think about what was to come with you and donghyuck, you couldn’t get the feeling of his lips on yours out of your head. you often found yourself grazing your lips with the tips of your fingers, remembering what it was like for those lips to be kissing donghyuck’s. no, stop it, you had to remind yourself way too often. but you couldn’t help it. now that you had your taste of donghyuck, you wanted it again and again and again.

you were sitting in the cafeteria with mark on monday morning, droning on about the long, boring lecture you had that morning. mark listened and nodded along where he could, but then hit your arm to signal you to stop. 

    “what?”

    “look,” he nodded to the table in front of you, where donghyuck and his friends were now sitting. you had told mark about your kiss with donghyuck, and the idea you had proposed to him. now you watched him intently, wondering if he would live up to the challenge. his eyes met yours, but instead of looking away timidly, you held eye contact with him until he looked away. 

you watched as he stood up from the table and took a deep breath before making his way over to the table in the back where yuri sat. she looked nervous as donghyuck approached her. you felt bad. thankfully, you were in earshot of their conversation. 

    “hey,” donghyuck said coolly. yuri was silent, looking up at him with wide, sad eyes. “i’m a jerk for blowing you off a few nights ago. i honestly feel so bad about it and i wanted to apologize. i’m really sorry, yuri. i hope you can forgive me. is there any way i can make it up to you?” 

you were truly shocked at donghyuck’s apology. you had never heard him sound this sincere. his voice was different than usual. it was soft and sweet instead of loud and rough. donghyuck hated apologizing, but he did it so smoothly. he even ran the extra mile asking her if he could do anything for her. 

    “thank you, donghyuck. your apology means a lot. it’s okay, i forgive you.” you barely heard yuri squeak out. donghyuck’s shoulders relaxed and a smile sprung to his face. 

    “thanks yuri. i’ll see you around.” he nodded and left her table. he caught your eyes again as he was walking back, and you were surprised by how happy he looked. maybe he was doing this for both you and himself. 

by the end of the day, you thought you were looking at a whole new donghyuck. he had apologized to every single girl he had hurt. and each apology was different and sincere, not some copy and paste bullshit. he didn’t join in in his friends teasing, instead he laid low and just listened. you even seen him laughing with a guy he was in a fight with just weeks before. had you really been able to change lee donghyuck? 

your last class of the day was a smaller one, one you shared with donghyuck. you got there early and saved him a seat, and he was actually on time. the professor started before you got a chance to talk to him, but five minutes into class and a small piece of paper was slid across the desk to you. 

‘can we talk later? i’ll meet you in the park near your place at 9.’

 it was a calm night in the park when you arrived. it was a few minutes after 9, so you weren’t overly late to your meeting with donghyuck. to your surprise, he was already there, sitting on a bench and waiting for you. he waved you over and smiled. 

    “hey. how’s it going?” you questioned, sitting down next to him. 

    “okay, i know this is going to sound crazy, but i already think i’m a changed man!” he laughed. you laughed along with him. “i mean, i’ve tried my best to be nothing but nice and sincere all day and honestly, i feel great! it feels so good knowing that people don’t completely hate me for what i’ve done. and while i’m a long way from not being an asshole anymore, i just want to know that you don’t hate me.” 

you looked at donghyuck like he held the moon and all the stars in his eyes. “i never hated you, donghyuck.” 

    “what, really? because i could’ve sworn—y’know, forget it. i apologized to everyone and cleaned some things up. so…can i take you on a date now?” he asked, his voice hopeful. you didn’t answer his question, instead you lunged forward and kissed him passionately. you guessed that answered his question for him. 

#the ending is super unrealistic no one will change that fast #i had a lot of fun writing this tbh #enemies to lovers! au #enemies to lovers! donghyuck #college! au #lee donghyuck #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #haechan #nct fanfiction #fanfic #nctwriters #donghyuck fic #donghyuck au #donghyuck angst

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Mulan 2020 vs. Mulan 1998: The Differences & Similarities

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This article contains spoilers for Disney’s MULAN. You can read our spoiler-free review of the film here.

When Disney’s Mulan came out in 1998, American viewers had not yet seen Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000), which was the first big wuxia hit film for American audiences. The animated feature takes its inspiration from a Chinese legend, but the film fits more into the traditional animated Disney Princess mold—and, with Eddie Murphy playing Mulan’s sidekick Mushu, the resulting film felt very American, despite its Chinese setting. Disney’s 2020 live-action film continues in the tradition of its other live-action remakes, but also leans into the legend behind the original animated feature—and draws on Chinese filmmaking to create something that honors the cartoon while standing solidly on its own. Here are all of the differences and similarities between the 1998 animated Disney Mulan and the 2020 live-action adaptation.

Swapping Genres

In the previous Disney live-action remakes I have seen (Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin), the film stuck closely to the original animated feature. While both added complexities to the characters and subplots, which helped to justify their slightly-long runtimes (and got rid of some of the handwavium that viewers accept in animated features), the resulting features felt very much like the classic animated film. 

Disney’s Mulan 2020 heads in the opposite direction. Rather than keeping the film as close to the original as possible, the creative team seems to have asked what would happen if the original Mulan had come to theaters after audiences were already familiar with the conceits of the wuxia film genre. While none of the writers or director are of Chinese descent, they lean heavily on martial arts epics, especially those in the wire-fu tradition, which allows their actors to fly (or something close to it). The fight choreography (credited to Nuo Sun, Shane Yan, and Heidi Moneymaker) uses martial arts acrobatics that nod to House of Flying Daggers and Hero more than any Western film. That the cast includes martial arts film luminaries Jet Li (the Emperor), Donnie Yen (Commander Tung), and Yifei Liu, who stars as Mulan, shows a clear consciousness of the creative team that they were investing in making their film as much a martial arts epic as a remake of an animated classic. (It’s also notable that while the animated Mulan is based on a story by Robert D. San Souci, which was released as a picture book the same year the film came out, the live-action Mulan credits its source material as “The Ballad of Mulan,” the legend originally recorded in the sixth century.)

The commitment to martial arts epic is also clear in the rating. Like most of the animated features of the 1990s, Mulan had a G rating, which means the violence, while implied, is off camera. The burned village the soldiers encounter has no survivors—but it also has no bodies. The most graphic moment in the animated film is when one of the soldiers presents Captain Shang with the helmet of his father, showing that General Shang has been killed in action. In the live action Mulan, there’s no shying away from combat. People are pierced by arrows. In a beautifully well-shot combat scene, boulders smeared with burning pitch are hurled into the shield walls of the imperial soldiers, devastating them. Battlefields are strewn with bodies, and while there’s not a ton of gore, it’s these combat sequences that earn the live-action film its PG-13 rating. (One tense moment at the end of the film shows a soldier with several arrows sticking out of his hip; a moment later, it’s revealed that these arrows are in his quiver, and he’s safe. It’s the kind of humor that might not play well with a younger audience, but the bait-and-switch works beautifully inside the context of a martial arts film.)

While there are scenes in the live-action version that quote the original film verbatim (Mulan’s father’s scolding when she protests that he’ll die if he goes to fight in the army, for example), tthers are familiar, but changed: For example, the scene in which Mulan takes a bath in the lake near the camp and runs into a fellow soldier and works to hide her body beneath the water’s surface, is adjusted to be less humorous and more tense. Here, when Liu’s Mulan encounters Honghui (played by Yoson An), she stays faced away from him, and it’s clear to adult audience members that she can’t turn around, because just the slope of her shoulders would give her away.

There’s also a nice nod to the animated film when a beautifully garmented Ming Na Wen, who voiced Mulan in the animated film, presents Liu’s Mulan to the Emperor.

Mulan the Strategist vs. Mulan the Warrior

In the animated feature, Mulan is no warrior. She’s as horrible in combat, at the beginning of the film, as the majority of her peer recruits. The training montage they receive (to the tune of Donnie Osmond’s performance of “I’ll Make a Man out of You”) shows them moving from complete disasters as soldiers to a competent fighting force. Mulan, one of the weakest and smallest among them, is nearly sent home in the middle of the song, until she makes a realization about one of the training exercises. In one of the defining moments for her character, she successfully retrieves an arrow from the top of a pole, using weights representing strength and discipline as a tool to help her achieve the goal (rather than allowing the weights to drag her down). A similar moment in Captain America: The First Avenger takes place when the physically weak military recruit Steve Rogers realizes that, instead of climbing a pole, he can take out the pin at the bottom, sending the pole falling to the ground. While Mulan’s strategy still requires actual strength, it’s her intelligence that allows her to defeat the obstacle. 

Live-action Mulan, on the other hand, is warned from the beginning of the film that she has too much chi for a girl. While there are deeper definitions of chi/qi/ki as described in philosophy and martial arts, in the context of the film, chi seems to represent a warrior’s energy, one that society decides that the greatest male warriors should have and that women should not. Though Mulan’s father indulges her by teaching her martial arts, and though she is clearly gifted at stunts both dramatic and small (once catching falling teacups in a stunt reminiscent of a scene in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), ultimately, her wellspring of chi will bring dishonor to her family. As a soldier, she nearly forgets that she can reveal her chi: she’s posing as a man, where her chi will be praised and valued rather than derided. When Mulan faces the challenge to make it to the top of a mountain (rather than a pole) with two buckets of water (rather than two weights), she draws on her inner chi to get through the challenge. It is this chi, this formidable skill as a warrior, that makes the live-action film’s Mulan stand apart from her animated counterpart.

She does retain her intelligence in the live-action film; the scene where she defeats the opposing army by causing an avalanche is more realistic (and possibly even cleverer) in the live-action version. But it’s ultimately her reputation as the best warrior in her unit that enables her to lead, and earns their respect, despite her gender.

But Where’s Mushu in Mulan?

The relationship between Mushu, and the parallel between Mulan’s quest to earn respect for her true self and Mushu’s desire to regain his place among the honored guardians of the Fa family, is a central part of the animated film’s story. But Mushu also exists primarily for comic relief (and possibly to sell stuffed animals and lunch boxes). Nominally there to help Mulan succeed, Mushu is frequently the reason Mulan gets into trouble. He and a lucky cricket are the ones to set off cannons, alerting the enemy army to the location of the imperial soldiers. It’s Mushu’s fault that Mulan gets off on the wrong foot with many of her fellow soldiers. And while Mushu ultimately helps save the day, Mulan often rises to heroism despite, not because of, her companion.

That comic relief isn’t really needed in the more mature tone of the live action film. Mulan’s failures are her own; humor comes from her interactions with her fellow soldiers (who share names and similarities with some of the animated cast, but are ultimately less caricatured—which makes them more realistic, yet less distinct). Humor and tension both come from the audience and Mulan knowing her secret while the others don’t; at times, this is played for laughs, and at times, it heightens the drama, because the stakes are high: if Mulan’s secret is revealed, she will die.

Instead of using Mushu as a foil, the live-action Mulan converts an animal character from the animated film, Shan Yu’s hawk, to a woman who, like Mulan, has “too much” chi for her gender. Xianniang, played by Li Gong, is disparaged as a witch. She was rejected by her family, her village, her nation. The one man willing to take her in and accept her and her powers (which allow her to do far more than fight: she can shapeshift, steal other people’s forms, and direct swarms of bats) is Böri Khan, leader of the Rouran Khaganate. Böri Khan’s soldiers fear Xianniang and say they’d be better off without her, until Böri Khan promises that he is hers to command—no better, he says at another point, than a dog.

When Mulan and Xianniang first encounter each other, Xianniang sees through her disguise immediately. Accusing Mulan of being a liar, Xianniang ultimately forces Mulan to see that she must be honest, admitting her lie, to be her true self, even if it means execution by her own comrades. When Mulan has been thrown out of the army for her gender, Xianniang faces her again, urging her to join forces—Xianniang insists there is no place for women like them in a man’s world, but that together, they could change things. Once Mulan has proved Xianniang wrong, convincing her commander to entrusts her with a role of leadership, it’s Xianniang who clears a path for Mulan to become the hero that Xianniang wishes she herself had been able to become. That redemption arc has a far deeper resonance in the story: unlike Mushu, Xianniang was not being punished for her mistakes, but for simply being her true self. And unlike Mushu, Xianniang is willing to sacrifice everything so that Mulan can rise (symbolized by the phoenix, another Mushu replacement who appears in useful fashion through the film and never causes Mulan any trouble).

Trading Songs for Stunts

While many audience members were horrified to learn that the original musical numbers would be cut, there’s really no place for them in the tone of the live action film. The comical number “A Girl Worth Fighting For” is replaced by a similar conversation between Mulan and her fellow soldiers at mess. The themes from “Reflection” and “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” appear in the orchestration behind the action, blending in reasonably well with the more Chinese-influenced score.

In exchange, however, audiences get amazing stunts and martial arts sequences. Xianniang uses her sleeves as whips, and the Emperor uses hanging banners to defeat archers attacking him. (The Emperor does get to do his own fight scene, which is important because it would have been a waste to have the amazing Jet Li in the film and not allow him to fight.) Cricket, one of Mulan’s fellow soldiers and a new addition to the cast, shoots a bow behind his back, firing two arrows into enemies on either side of Mulan. Commander Tung and Mulan have a gorgeous spliced sequence of martial arts forms following a discussion about chi. And Mulan fights Böri Khan in a construction scaffold, with gorgeous cinematography that amplifies the multi-tiered combat.

Ultimately, the live-action film provides plenty of nostalgic nods to the animated feature, while digging deeper into the heritage of the legend. The resulting movie is its own original piece, building upon a strong foundation of wuxia film while remaining true to the Disney classic.

The post Mulan 2020 vs. Mulan 1998: The Differences & Similarities appeared first on Den of Geek.

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