#Firestarter - Single

[wolfylch]

Happy Father's Day ✨️

[queenohalloween]

my skrunklies, each and every single one... till I make more

I’ve made so many of these little critters and I love them all so much

no wait I love most of them, Vivian I would gladly throw down a flight of stairs if I had the chance. Thats still love tho

[infraredmag]

New Music Review: RED CAIN - 'Firestarter - Single'

Rating: 7.5 / 10 Stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 7.5 out of 10. RED CAIN is: Evgeniy Zayarny (vocals), Samuel Ridout (guitar), Oman Costa (guitar), Taylor Gibson (drums) REVIEW – Calgary-based modern progressive metal band RED CAIN returns with “Firestarter,” a powerful and anthemic single released on August 30, 2024. Building on the success of their acclaimed 2023 album ‘NÄE’BLISS,’ the band…

[jetii]

Too Sweet

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader

Words: 6,140/26,525

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, description of blood/wound care, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, you can pry goofy Thorn out of my cold dead hands, smut in part 3? 4?

Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.

A/N: Trying something a little different with more, shorter parts for these longer fics. Also forgot to say thanks for 650 followers! hello!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“For the last time, I don’t need a medic.”

Fox is trying to be polite about it, but the tone of his voice is bordering on a growl. Every push on his shoulder is a jab to his pride, making him hiss like an angry tooka-cat. He knows he's being ridiculous, but that's never stopped him before.

His patience is already thin, but it had been stretched to the breaking point by a series of unfortunate events over the course of the day. The first, and arguably the most annoying, had occurred at the beginning of his shift.

Fox had woken up late, and his alarm clock had gone off with a loud, obnoxious tone that had caused him to shoot straight up in his bed, slamming a fist onto the off button. He scrambled out of bed and dressed faster than he thought possible, then hurried into the mess hall for the early shift breakfast. He was late enough that the food line was empty, and his choice was between a bowl of sludgy porridge or an unidentifiable ration bar.

The ration bar had tasted like stale durasteel, and the porridge was more of a thick slop, so Fox had opted for the latter. He scarfed it down with a mug of caf after an overdrawn fight with the machine, which tried to refuse him more than one portion of caf. He had left the mess hall with his stomach growling and his mouth bitter with the aftertaste of the caf, and his mood had soured even further when he found the lift under maintenance, forcing him to take the stairs.

When he arrived at the office, there was an enormous stack of datapads on his desk. A new security system had just been installed throughout the city, and the details were apparently too sensitive to be kept on the holonet. The only copies of the schematics were the ones on the physical datapads, and Fox had the wonderful task of checking every single one.

By the time lunch came around, Fox had managed to read through half the stack despite the constant interruptions. Someone would come in and ask about some obscure policy, or a trooper would report that someone had thrown a bottle at him, and the Chancellor would call for updates, and all the while, Fox had to be careful not to crush the datapads with his gauntlets.

The Chancellor was especially persistent today, calling him in person to demand a detailed analysis of the new security measures. Fox was forced to leave the datapads behind in order to give him an impromptu briefing, which ended with the Chancellor dismissing him with a wave of his hand and a curt, "I'm sure you have more important things to attend to."

Fox was seething when he returned to his office, and in a last minute attempt to escape his prison and an effort to calm himself, he decided to walk the patrol route himself instead of sending a trooper.

Of course, this had to be the day that every citizen on Coruscant decided to commit a crime, from a jaywalking elderly woman to a pair of pickpockets that had made off with a trooper's blaster. There was an argument outside a bar, an illegal speeder chase, and a man had decided to start a fire in the middle of the street, and all this had happened in the span of less than two hours.

Thorn had thought it was funny, but Fox hadn't found it nearly as entertaining. And now, he's been injured during the scuffle with the firestarter, and Thorn is making a big fuss about it.

Fox's shoulder throbs with pain as he moves, and he tries to ignore the way the skin is tightening around the wound. It's only a scratch, but it's deep, and Fox can feel blood oozing out of the cut and dripping down his armor. His head is pounding, and his chest aches from having been slammed against the duracrete by the man's boot.

A hand presses down on his shoulder, and Fox flinches away with another hiss. He turns on Thorn with a scowl

"I'm fine," he growls, shrugging Thorn's hand off his shoulder. "Leave it alone."

"Fox," Thorn says. He's trying to sound reasonable, but Fox can hear the exasperation in his voice. "It's a karking gash on your arm. I can't leave it alone."

Fox rolls his eyes. "I'm not letting you drag me back to the medbay for something as minor as this," he says. He turns and starts walking, heading towards the Senate building. "We've got more important things to do."

"I'm not dragging you to the medbay," Thorn says, running to catch up. He grabs Fox's arm and yanks him to a stop. "You're going to GMF. It's on the way to the Senate anyway."

"What? No!" Fox sputters, but Thorn is already pulling him down the street. He digs his heels into the ground, but Thorn is stronger than he is, and the other commander pulls him forward without breaking his stride.

"You're coming with me whether you like it or not," Thorn says, his voice firm. He doesn't loosen his grip, and Fox can only follow along helplessly. "The office will survive without you for a couple of hours."

"Thorn, you're not—"

"Yes, I am."

Fox scowls. Thorn isn't budging, and neither is he, and they've reached a stalemate. He's considering the merits of just sitting down and refusing to move, but before he can even make a decision, they're already at GMF.

"Let's go," Thorn says, pulling him up the steps. "Just stop trying to act tough and get over yourself."

Fox wants to protest, but Thorn has an iron grip on his arm, and he doesn't want to risk a public spectacle, so he allows himself to be pulled inside.

"Fine," he huffs. He can already feel a headache coming on, and his stomach is still grumbling in protest at its meager breakfast. Maybe he'll be able to sneak away before anyone notices, and no one will ever know that the Commander of the Guard was seen at GMF for such a minor injury.

"That's the spirit," Thorn says, grinning. He pulls on Fox's arm again, and this time, Fox lets himself be dragged away.

They've been sitting in the waiting room for a few minutes, and Fox is already starting to regret his decision. It's a busy day at GMF, and a steady stream of injured people are filing into the building, filling the waiting room with a cacophony of moans and groans.

Fox's shoulder is starting to throb again, and the wound is leaking blood into the fabric of his blacks. Thorn is tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair, his expression thoughtful.

"I wonder how many people are in here because of you," he says, looking around the room. There's a group of young men sitting on the opposite side of the room, nursing a variety of wounds. "They must be getting sick of seeing the Guard around here."

Fox glares at him, and Thorn chuckles.

"You'd think they'd learn their lesson and stop committing crimes," Fox mutters.

"We'd all like that," he laughs. "But we both know that won't happen."

Fox sighs, leaning back against the wall. He shifts slightly, trying to find a comfortable position. He's still annoyed about his arm, and now the smell of bacta is starting to get to him. It had always had a pungent, chemical smell to him, and the scent of the various medical supplies is making him queasy. 

He can feel his stomach starting to churn, and he closes his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. The bright fluorescent lights are only making things worse, and the sound of the door sliding open and closed as various people walked in and out of the medical wing is grating on his nerves.

It doesn't help that Thorn is sitting right next to him, staring him down like he's a suspect in an interrogation. He'd caught on to Fox's plan to slip away almost as soon as they'd stepped into the room, and Fox had been forced to endure his company as they waited for their turn.

"How long is this going to take?"

"They said they were pretty busy today," Thorn says. "I'm not sure, but you're probably going to be waiting for a while."

"Great."

"Don't be such a baby. It'll be over before you know it."

Fox groans and leans back in his chair. He can't help but think of all the work that he should be doing right now. The stack of datapads has probably gotten taller since they left the office, and he'll have even more work to do once he returns.

He hates the feeling of wasting time, especially when there's so much to be done, and at this rate, he'll be lucky if he manages to finish the rest of his work by nightfall. And that was if the Chancellor didn't call him again.

"You should go back," Fox says, looking up at Thorn. "I can handle this."

Thorn raises an eyebrow, giving him an incredulous look.

"And let you weasel your way out of getting that arm checked out?" he scoffs. "I don't think so."

Fox shoots him a glare, but Thorn only grins.

"Nice try, but no," he says. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Thorn—"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Fox sighs and slumps in his seat. He can see that Thorn isn't going to budge, and he doesn't have the energy to argue with him. His shoulder is really starting to hurt now, and the bleeding hasn't slowed down yet. He's getting dizzy, and the queasiness is growing stronger

He closes his eyes, resting his head against the wall. He feels terrible, and the longer he sits here, the worse he feels. The smell of the bacta is making his stomach turn, and the noise and chaos in the room is starting to get to him.

The medical center always brings back memories of the Kaminoans, and he was usually only ever here when one of his brothers was seriously injured. He doesn't have fond feelings towards the place.

"This is a waste of time," Fox mutters. "I could be working, or doing literally anything else right now."

"You know it's not a waste of time," Thorn says. He's looking around the room, keeping a close eye on the other people. "You're injured, and you need to get that taken care of. Stop being such a stubborn di'kut."

Fox is about to say something in response, his eyes land on a medical droid heading their way. He lets out a sigh of relief and gets to his feet. Finally, his suffering is about to end.

"Commander Fox?" the medical droid asks, stopping in front of him with a metallic whir.

"Yes, that's me."

"Please follow me. We're ready for you now."

"Finally," Fox mutters, ignoring Thorn's chuckle. 

He follows the droid down a long, white corridor, his footsteps echoing against the tile floor. He keeps his eyes forward, refusing to look back at Thorn. He doesn't want to see the smug look on his brother's face.

After a few minutes, the droid leads them into an examination room and motions for him to sit down on the cot. Fox complies, perching on the edge of the thin mattress and crossing his arms, trying not to fidget, and Thorn takes a seat in the chair in the corner of the room.

The droid is quick and efficient, running the scanner over his shoulder and chest and checking the readouts. It tells him that he'll need some stitches and bacta treatment, and Fox sigh, nodding his agreement.

"Thank you, Commander," the droid says. It stands still for a moment, processing its data, and then turns and exits the room.

"You're not getting out of this one," Thorn says as soon as the doors shut behind the droid.

"I know," Fox grumbles, slumping in his seat. He rests his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. "I just want to get this over with."

Thorn shakes his head, a smile playing across his lips. He doesn't say anything, but Fox knows he's just happy to have won. They're both competitive, and any victory, no matter how small, is something to celebrate.

"Stop that," Fox snaps. He doesn't want to deal with Thorn's smugness. He's already irritated, and the last thing he needs is for his brother to rub his victory in his face.

"Stop what?" Thorn asks, feigning innocence.

“That thing that you’re doing with your face.”

“It’s called smiling, Fox, you should try it sometime. I think you could use the practice,” Thorn teases, and Fox rolls his eyes.

Before he can come up with a retort, the door opens, and Fox reflexively straightens, preparing himself for the worst. The medical droids aren't exactly known for their gentle touches and bedside manner.

To his surprise, the person who enters the room isn't a medical droid. 

Fox feels his eyes widen as he takes in the decidedly human figure standing in the doorway, a datapad in hand. Wearing a crisp, clean set of medical whites, you stand tall, and his first thought is that you're beautiful.

His second thought is that you look far too cheerful for someone working in a medical facility. Your eyes are bright, and you're smiling, and the expression is so warm and genuine that it makes him wonder how you're managing to maintain it in a place like this.

It's a nice smile.

It isn't until Thorn clears his throat that Fox realizes he's been staring at you for the last few seconds, and he hastily looks away just as you glance up from the datapad.

"Hello," you say, your voice soft. "Commander Fox, is it?"

"Y-yes," he manages to reply, feeling his cheeks flush.

"And I'm Commander Thorn," Thorn chimes in, and he shoots him a smug look when Fox turns to glare at him.

"Well, hello," you say. Your voice is warm and melodic, and your eyes are sparkling. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"The pleasure's all mine," Thorn replies, flashing you a grin.

"Yeah," Fox mumbles. "Pleasure."

He's never felt so awkward in his life, and he's suddenly acutely aware of the blood on his armor, the way his hair is sticking up in all directions, and the fact that he hasn't slept in a couple days. You, on the other hand, look fresh and put together, and you're practically glowing.

You introduce yourself, and you give them a brief summary of your qualifications and experience. Fox doesn't pay much attention to what you're saying. He's too busy trying not to stare at you, and it isn't until he hears the word 'bacta' that he snaps back to reality.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

"Bacta," you repeat, tilting your head slightly. "It's a healing substance that stimulates the body's natural ability to regenerate tissue."

"I know what bacta is," he says, his tone coming out harsher than he intended.

You blink at him, clearly startled by his response, and Fox feels his face heating up.

"Right," you say, clearing your throat. You offer him a small, polite smile, and he looks away, embarrassed. "As I was saying, we'll need to administer a small dose of bacta to the area where the injury occurred. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Fine." Fox crosses his arms and tries not to scowl, and you turn away, tapping on your datapad again. Thorn kicks him in the shin, and Fox gives him a look. The other commander gestures with his eyes to you, and Fox frowns, shaking his head.

"Do you have any allergies or medical conditions?" you ask, looking up from the screen.

"No," Fox says, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. The mattress is far too thin, and the metal frame is digging into the back of his knees. "I already told the droid."

"Right," you say. "Just making sure."

Fox glances over at Thorn, who gives him an exasperated look, and Fox sighs. He knows that he's being difficult, but he can't seem to stop himself. His shoulder hurts, his head is throbbing, and his stomach is rumbling, and he just wants to get this over with so he can return to the office and finally finish the rest of his work.

He looks back at you and sees that you're staring at him. You're looking at him with concern, and your lips are pressed into a thin line. You're not smiling anymore, and Fox feels a twinge of guilt.

"You don't have to be nervous," you say. "This is going to be a quick procedure, and it won't hurt at all. We'll use a local anesthetic and numbing spray, and you won't feel a thing."

"I'm not nervous," Fox protests, his face flushing. "I just don't have time for this."

"I understand," you say, and your expression softens. "But this is important, and we need to make sure that you're taken care of."

Fox wants to argue, but there's a hint of steel in your tone, and the look in your eyes is firm. You're clearly not going to let him get out of this, and he sighs, resigning himself to his fate.

"Alright," he says, reluctantly.

"Great," you say, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

He feels a little better when you smile at him, and he tries not to smile back. You turn away, busying yourself with setting up the equipment, and Fox takes the opportunity to look at you again. You're standing with your back to him, and he can see the outline of your figure through your medical whites. You're not very tall, but you're not short either, and he wonders how old you are. You can't be older than twenty-five, he guesses, but it's hard to tell with natborns.

"How did you get that injury, anyway?" you ask, glancing over your shoulder.

"Work-related incident," Fox says. He doesn't want to tell you the truth. He doesn't want you to think he's a clumsy idiot, or that he can't do his job properly.

"Oh," you say, sounding a little surprised. You turn back to the equipment, and he can see the muscles in your back tense. "That sounds... dangerous."

"It's nothing," Fox says, his voice low. "I can handle it."

"Of course," you say softly. You turn around and walk over to the cot, your gaze focused on the equipment. "Okay, armor off, Commander. Let's see it."

Fox stiffens, his heart skipping a beat. "I—what?"

"The injury," you say, your brow furrowing slightly. You reach over and brush your fingers against his arm. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Fox says, a little too quickly. 

Thorn lets out a snort, and Fox glares at him. He just raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face, and Fox rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, it's been a long day," he says as he turns back to you. "Just a bit tired, is all."

"That's understandable," you say, your lips curving into a small, sympathetic smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been on my feet since 0600."

"I think you win," Fox says, his voice dry.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, and his heart skips a beat again. It's a nice sound, and he feels a strange surge of pride at having caused it.

He was truly terrible at making small talk, and most people found his dry sense of humor off-putting. The fact that you had laughed at his words, even if it had been a polite, professional laugh, was surprising. It was hard not to see it as a small victory in an otherwise terrible day.

You smile at him again, and he feels a sudden urge to smile back. You look like you're about to say something, but then your datapad beeps, and the moment is lost.

"I'll be right back," you say. "Just got to check something."

You step out of the room, and Fox lets out a breath, relieved that you're gone. He hadn't expected you to be so friendly, or to be so concerned about him. Most natborns just saw the troopers as an extension of their equipment, and they only spoke to him if there was a problem. You're different, though, and it's unnerving.

"You're blushing."

"What?" Fox sputters, turning to Thorn. "What are you talking about?"

"Your face is red," Thorn says with a wide grin.

"It's the lights," he says, pointing to the ceiling. "They're too bright."

"I didn't know we could blush," Thorn teases. "That's kinda cute."

"Shut up."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you're not at least a little bit interested."

Fox sighs and shakes his head. "Not now, Thorn. We're in a medical center, not a bar."

"Good thing, too." Thorn stands up and starts to help him unlatch his armor, a smirk on his face. "Cause if we were, you wouldn't have a chance. She's way out of your league."

"You're the worst," Fox says, and he swats Thorn's hands away and reaches up to unfasten his shoulder plates himself.

"She's pretty," Thorn continues, ignoring him. He pulls off Fox's pauldrons and sets them on the ground. "And she's not scared of you, either. That's a first."

"Yeah, well, she works in a medical facility," Fox mutters, slipping out of his cuirass. "They must have taught her how to deal with difficult patients."

"Maybe," Thorn says. He removes the rest of Fox's armor, placing it carefully on the ground, and then steps back. "But I don't think that's it. She's nice."

"She's paid to be nice."

"That's not fair, and you know it."

"I don't need you playing matchmaker," Fox grumbles.

"Fine," Thorn says, crossing his arms. "But if you don't ask for her frequency, I will."

Fox's eyes widen. "Don't you dare—"

The doors slide open again, and you step inside, your expression bright. "Sorry about that."

Your gaze is focused on the gloves you're pulling over your hands as you walk in, but as soon as you look up, your smile vanishes, and you freeze. Your eyes are fixed on his arm, and Fox quickly glances down, noticing the large dark patch of blood seeping through his undershirt.

"Oh, Commander!" you exclaim, hurrying towards him.

"It's not that bad," he says. He hadn't realized how bad it was until now, and his heart is pounding in his chest. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Your tone is stern, and he finds himself shrinking back a little under your intense gaze. "Now sit still."

Fox does as he's told, watching as you pull a stool over and set up a tray. Your movements are swift and practiced, and you don't seem at all bothered by the amount of blood. You're frowning, but your eyes are calm, and Fox finds himself relaxing a little.

"Let's get this over with," you mutter.

You're not smiling anymore, and it unsettles him. He'd thought that he had imagined the steel in your voice earlier, but now he can hear it clearly, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"Yes, sir," he says, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's doctor, actually."

Fox winces.

"My mistake," he mutters, his voice apologetic. "Force of habit."

You look at him, and he thinks he sees the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but before he can be sure, your face is composed and neutral again.

"Would you prefer I cut the sleeve off, or would you rather take it off yourself?"

"I'll do it."

You nod, and he lifts his arms, peeling the soaked fabric away from his skin. His stomach clenches at the sight of the deep, bloody gash, and the stench of copper is heavy in the air. He can feel the blood beginning to trickle down his arm, and the sight of his pale, slick flesh is almost enough to make him vomit.

"Are you okay?" you ask, placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

"Yeah," Fox manages. He's feeling a little woozy, but he tries to push it down. "I'll be fine."

You give him a sympathetic look, and he looks away, his gaze fixed on the wall.

"Okay," you say. You grab a vial and a syringe and inject it into his arm. "This should help numb the pain. Try not to move."

Fox nods, and you lean closer, gently cleaning the wound. The smell of the disinfectant is strong, and he forces himself to focus on your face instead. Your expression is calm, and you're humming softly as you work, and he finds himself relaxing a little more.

"How did this happen, anyway?"

"Like I said, it's work-related."

"So it was a knife, then?"

Fox glances at the gash, and he nods. He can't tell if the cut is deep enough to require stitches or not, and he's a little worried that the knife might have hit an artery.

"You're going to have a nice scar."

"Good. It'll match the others," he mutters, his tone flat.

You pause for a moment, looking at him. Your expression is unreadable, but there's a sadness in your eyes that he doesn't understand. You resume cleaning the wound, and he tries not to think about it.

"Do you always go out in the field?" you ask.

"Sometimes."

"And do you usually get injured like this?"

"It's not uncommon."

"Hmm." You're quiet for a few moments, and then you glance up at him, your eyes filled with concern. "You're very brave."

Fox is stunned. No one has ever said anything like that to him before, and it catches him off guard. He doesn't know how to respond, and he just sits there, staring at you. You don't seem to mind, and you return your attention to his wound.

"This is a lot deeper than I thought," you murmur. "It'll need a few stitches."

"Okay," he says, his voice soft.

"Try to relax," you say, gently touching his arm.

He nods, and you begin to sew up the wound. He tries not to think about the fact that the needle is digging into his flesh, and instead focuses on the feeling of your gloved hands on his skin. They're gentle and warm, and the scent of the disinfectant is beginning to fade, replaced by the faintest trace of flowers.

He can't remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. His brothers are rarely so careful, and most people who touch him are doing so with the intention of causing him harm. It's a pleasant change, and he finds himself enjoying it more than he expected.

"Sorry," you say, glancing up at him. "Almost done."

"Take your time," Fox replies. "I'm in no rush."

That's patently untrue, but the lie slips from his lips easily, and he's rewarded by a smile. He can see Thorn giving him a pointed look, and he knows that his brother will never let him live it down. But right now, he doesn't care.

The smell of flowers grows stronger, and he realizes that it's coming from you. The scent is subtle, but pleasant, and he's surprised by how much he likes it. He wonders what the source is. Is it your hair? Your skin? Or maybe it's something you wear, like perfume. He can't quite tell, and the mystery is starting to bother him.

You finish suturing his wound, and you dab some bacta gel over the stitches, sealing them. The sensation is cool and soothing, and Fox lets out a soft sigh of relief.

"How does that feel?" you ask.

"Better."

"Good," you say, your expression softening. You reach out and squeeze his uninjured shoulder, and Fox's eyes widen slightly at the unexpected gesture. "You should be all set, Commander."

"Thanks," he says, and the word sounds awkward in his ears. He's never thanked anyone for treating his wounds before. Usually, it was a medic droid, or another trooper, and his thanks were never required. But somehow, the words seem necessary now.

"Of course," you say, a hint of surprise in your voice. You remove your gloves, tossing them in the bin, and turn to clean up your equipment. "Do you have any other injuries, Commander? Any other...work-related incidents?"

"No, nothing else."

"Good." You stand up and stretch, and Fox takes the opportunity to admire the shape of your body. He can't help himself, and he quickly looks away, a flush rising on his cheeks.

"Thank you," Thorn chimes in, and Fox nearly jumps out of his skin. He had almost forgotten that the other commander was there, and his brother is looking at him with a knowing smile.

"You're welcome," you say, smiling at Thorn. You turn to Fox and offer him a smile, too, and he tries to smile back. It probably looks more like a grimace, and he quickly drops it.

"Now, remember, if that gets infected, or the stitches come loose before they dissolve, I want you to come right back, okay? No excuses."

"Got it," Fox replies.

"I mean it, Commander," you say, and you give him a stern look. "Don't make me hunt you down."

Fox blinks, his heart skipping a beat. You're serious, and he finds himself nodding, agreeing without thinking.

"Yes, sir," he says, and then mentally curses himself. "Doctor."

You chuckle, and the sound makes his chest tighten. It's the nicest sound he's heard all day, and he can't help but smile. You give him a playful salute, and he returns it, and you laugh again.

"Well, I hope we don't see each other anytime soon," you say, grinning.

"Me, too," Fox mutters, before he stiffens. "I mea—"

"I know what you mean," you say, your eyes sparkling. You hold out a hand, and he hesitates for a moment before taking it. Your skin is warm, and his breath catches in his throat when you gently squeeze his hand. "Take care, Commander."

"You, too," he says, and your smile widens. 

You pick up your datapad and step around the cot, moving towards the door. As you pass him, Fox catches another hint of the flowery scent, and his eyes widen. Lavender. It's lavender.

"Have a good day, gentlemen," you say. You flash him one last smile, and then you're gone.

He lets out a long, slow breath, trying to process what just happened. He feels... strange. There's an odd warmth in his chest, and he's still not quite sure what it is. He doesn't think it's anything bad, but it's new, and he doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe it's the blood loss. Or the painkillers. Or maybe it's the bacta. Yeah, it's probably the bacta.

Thorn slaps him on the back, and he lets out a startled noise, nearly falling off the cot.

"I don't know what the hell that was," Thorn says, chuckling. "But it was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen."

"Shut up."

"Seriously," he continues. "She's definitely way out of your league. I might even say she's way out of mine."

"I'm leaving," Fox grumbles. He grabs his armor and starts putting it on, trying not to wince as the plates rub against the bandages. "Get out of my way."

"Sure, sure," Thorn says, stepping aside. He gives Fox a sidelong glance, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Just make sure you give her your frequency."

Fox stops, his helmet half-on. He stares at Thorn, his mouth agape, and then turns away, pulling his bucket on over his head. He's not about to give Thorn the satisfaction of an answer. Not when his brother is clearly enjoying his discomfort so much.

He stalks out of the room, his boots echoing against the tile floor. Thorn follows, laughing, and Fox can feel his cheeks burning. He keeps his head down, his shoulders hunched, and he's determined not to speak another word. 

As they walk through the lobby, he notices you standing at the desk, speaking to the receptionist. You're not smiling anymore, but Fox can still see the ghost of it on your lips, and he feels the strange warmth growing inside him.

Thorn elbows him, and Fox lets out a hiss, glaring at him through his visor. He's already starting to regret allowing Thorn to drag him here. This whole experience had been far more traumatic than the injury itself, and he would have been better off ignoring it. But as he looks back at you, his gaze lingering on your form, he finds that he doesn't really regret it. At least not entirely.

The receptionist hands you a datapad, and you nod, thanking her. You turn and look at him, and he quickly ducks his head, pretending to adjust his pauldron.

"Commander!" you call out. "Wait a moment."

Fox stops, and Thorn snorts. He turns and sees you approaching, a small smile on your lips.

"Forget something?" he asks, and he winces internally at how gruff his voice sounds.

"Yes, actually," you say, stopping in front of him.

"Okay," he says slowly. He doesn't really understand why you're talking to him again, but he's not complaining. "What is it?"

"Your frequency."

Fox freezes, his eyes widening. He can't believe what he's hearing, and for a moment, he's convinced that he's misheard. It doesn't seem possible. Not with how the day has gone so far.

He glances over at Thorn, who's practically vibrating with excitement, and he quickly turns back to you, his heart racing.

"Uh..."

"I'll have the receptionist check in on you every few days, just to make sure everything is healing up okay," you continue. You hold out your datapad, and he takes it automatically. "But if there's any complications, or you notice anything unusual, don't hesitate to contact me, okay?"

The breath leaves his lungs, and he's grateful for the bucket over his head. Right. Of course. You're his doctor. This is completely professional. The disappointment that floods his veins is surprising, and he mentally scolds himself. What had he been expecting, anyway?

“That won’t be necessary," he says, handing the datapad back. "But thank you."

You frown. "Commander..."

"It's fine." He turns and gestures for Thorn to follow. "Come on, we've got work to do."

He can hear Thorn muttering behind him, and he knows that his brother is probably annoyed, but he doesn't care. The warmth inside him has vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable numbness. He doesn't know what he was hoping for, and he's glad that the conversation is over. It's better this way.

You call out after him, but he ignores you, and within moments, he's out of the building and back on the street. Thorn is right behind him, and they start the long trek back to the office.

"I can't believe you just did that," Thorn mutters.

"Did what?" Fox asks. He doesn't look at him, keeping his eyes fixed forward. He can feel his face heating up, and he's suddenly feeling very tired.

"You're an idiot," Thorn says, shaking his head.

"Shut up."

They walk in silence for a few minutes, and Fox tries not to think about the conversation. It doesn't matter, and it's better to just forget it.

He's been doing this job long enough to know that it’s dangerous to get attached to people, especially when they were civilians. Things never worked out, and the risk of getting hurt was too great. He'd seen too many of his brothers get their hearts broken by the citizens they were trying to protect, and he wasn't about to let that happen to him. It wasn't worth it. And you weren't special, anyway. You were just another natborn.

He repeats these thoughts to himself over and over, and eventually, he starts to believe them. The warmth inside him disappears, and the numbness returns. He's relieved. He's finally starting to get his head on straight, and the sooner he forgets about you, the better.

And yet, when they reach the Senate building, Fox hesitates. His eyes wander towards the medical center towering over the cityscape, and he feels a twinge in his chest. He tries to ignore it, and he continues walking, heading towards the office. But the ache doesn't go away, and the image of your smile lingers in his mind, taunting him.

He doesn't know why it bothers him so much. He'd only just met you, and it was nothing but a brief conversation. There was no reason to be upset. But somehow, it feels like something was taken from him. And he can't figure out what it was.

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[delaber]

Firestarter (Loki x Reader)

Summary: After having been granted safe passage to the Avengers’ head quarters, Loki’s delighted to learn that he can pass the time by toying with the hate of the newest recruit.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers.

Words: 4.2K

Warnings: smut, mentions of battle injuries

Find part 2 here

They would all be fools to trust him. They know it. Loki knows it. Hell, even the specs of dust floating around know it!

The only one that seems eager to patch up the growing rift between the opposite sides of the room is the meathead of his brother who is blabbering away, trying hard to ignore the cold air coming from the other Avengers.

He's persistent, you'd have to give him that. They must really love Thor to grant Loki safe passage in their home like this.

- The stab of a thought hits Loki straight in the chest. Sticks to his ribs as he contemplates the sharp hate radiating off of the cotton-clad team opposite him. They don't look the least bit threatening in their oversized casual wear, but they've still granted his brother the upper hand so graciously, and for the first time in a while, he feels the balancing scales tip. It was easier when it was just the three idiots Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg who were fawning over his brother - Sif on occasion too, though Loki had had her in multiple ways Thor could never even wrap his pea-sized brain around.

The thought alone makes the tar on his ribs slowly drip away.

He must've drifted off, lost in thought of Sif with her bare ass in the air because the next thing he registers is Thor's meaty hand between his shoulder blades. "You all know my brother..." he chuckles awkwardly and pushes Loki forwards. Adds his name for clarification when nobody answers. Idiot.

The room's almost dead-silent. Stark scoffs theatrically loud and that Barton fellow turns a lovely shade of plum as he immediately races out of the room without uttering a single word - not that Loki can really blame him; he's killed for less.

Even the newbies on the team are staring daggers at him, though Loki doubts he's ever met any of them before; Captain Rogers' brooding siamese twin, the beefed up action figure beside him and that... woman - the pretty one - her eyes ablaze with a certain kind of hatred that he can physically feel down his spine as she scowls in his direction.

Loki cocks an eyebrow, amused that his reputation precedes him so much that her hate is tangible, and she huffs and pushes through the crowd while the one with the metal arm - the siamese twin - grabs her shoulder to prevent her from stepping too close. It only angers her even more and she shakes off the vibranium hand but stands her ground with her head lifted in cool arrogance, her eyes never wavering from Loki's.

Oh, she really hates him!

The look on her face reminds him of the tales he's heard of Muspelheim. Of Surtur and flames shining brighter than the sun; all of Asgard burning while the glass of the shattered rainbow bridge glistens in the flames and sticks to his skin, covers his hair. With her, there's fire in the air. He feels it immediately and it draws him in.

***

He spends his days in the shadows, observes the dynamics of the Avengers, gathers information in case he has to do something... drastic. He's not exactly planning on betraying the trust his brother's placed in him, but it's never unwise to have a plan to overthrow the Avengers - just in case. So he learns what he can from afar; their likes, their dislikes, their routines. But mostly, Loki just observes her.

She really loathes him which only makes it all the more fun. She storms off whenever he comes close. Flares her nostrils, squares her jaw, stamps away like a petulant child - and he must admit that he does love it! He enjoys having her wrapped around his little finger, that his mere presence can pull such a sincere reaction out of her. It makes the seidr in his veins feel electric; like pure voltage in the palm of his hand as it begs him to show off - show her - what he can do with it. He wonders if this is what Thor feels like when his eyes turn bone-white and arctic blue with lightening.

"I wish you would stop with that."

Loki glances towards his brother, tries to look as bored as possible as if he really doesn't know what he's talking about. "Stop with what?"

Thor gives out a long sigh and Loki is reminded of the first time Thor was disappointed with him; even though it's almost a thousand years ago, he can still smell the sweetness of the stolen tarts he'd hidden underneath his pillowcase and the empty hole in his chest where he knew he should be feeling shame but didn't.

"You know what I mean... It's not nice."

"In case you haven't noticed; I don't care about being nice."

"You're taunting her."

"She's an easy target," Loki hums with remnants of a chuckle, places his hands on the back of his head as he looks over at her. Even as she does something as mundane as drinking her morning coffee, she keeps a wary eye on him. It's entertaining. "You really can't blame me."

"It's not as if she's dangling bait, brother. You hurt her."

"I hurt her?!" Loki snaps, offended, "- when?"

"You really haven't realised?"

"Realised what?"

Another sigh. "Can't you tell she's from New York?"

Loki stops replying after that. Settles on picking an imaginary crumb from off his chest; thin crusted and rhubarb filling. He avoids Thor's gaze. He doesn't feel empty now and they both know it.

***

He'd come running through the compound with the rest of them as soon as the strangled war cry had met his ears.

Half-hiding behind one of the huge stone columns, he takes her in; she's covered in blood from head to toe, panting harshly as she stands in the middle of the hall, daggers still clutched tightly in both hands as her friends surround her. She looks fiery, evil, war ready - like the Valkyries from back home with their spears and their feminine hands skilfully wringing death out of anyone who crosses Asgard.

There had been a time where Loki had been afraid of them, and then, as he grew a little older, completely mesmerised by their raw beauty and the smell of battle as they rode towards the Royal Palace to report back to Odin and his ravens. He remembers standing in the hallowed halls of Valaskjalf with Huginn and Muninn circling above him as the Valkyries take off their helmets and look towards his brother. What he wouldn't have given to have one of them stab him, let alone notice him. Five hundred years later and it still hurts...

Steve Rogers is standing right by her side, not covered in as much blood as she is but still looking relieved to be back home. He sends a nod in Stark's direction and throws an electronic device across the room with a defeated sigh. It doesn't take a genius to see that even though the mission went well, they'd been ambushed.

Rogers takes a step closer to her, puts his arm around her shoulders as to hug her, and for the first time since they appeared in the entrance hall, she howls in pain, collapses on the floor and wrings her face in the most horrible way.

Loki notices the hole in her suit first. Sees how the red comes in pulses and flows down over her shoulder and chest. She's been stabbed, and by the looks of the dark red tissue in the gap, it's deep.

Steve Rogers yelps in shock, throws himself down on the ground beside her and instantly starts pressurising the wound with his bruised hands while his two companions are by her side immediately, ready to scoop her up in their arms and carry her to safety.

Loki takes in the scene unfolding before him; the three frantic men, the spurting blood, her panicked face as she cries. Swears he can hear Hel whisper her name.

"Leave her," he suddenly hears his own voice booming through the echoing hall and it drowns out the whisper.

They all stop dead in their tracks. Look around for him.

He's not sure exactly where all of this is coming from; he really couldn't care less if she died, but he finds himself stepping around the column, and he comes out with his arms raised as if surrendering. "She's gonna bleed out before you reach a doctor."

Action figure-man is on his feet almost immediately: "And what do you suggest?," he hisses angrily, "that we leave her be? Let her die here on the floor without even trying?"

Loki raises his arms a little higher and takes another careful step towards them. "I can help."

"You can help? And why should we trust you?"

"First of all, you shouldn't," he states as he simply cannot help himself. "- But it's your only chance of saving your friend."

"You're not serious!" Tin-man hisses and looks towards Loki while helping Steve Rogers putting pressure on the gaping wound, "as if we're supposed to believe you suddenly care."

Loki wants to bite back but a painful sound from her makes him hold his tongue.

"- We're not gambling with her life!"

"Are you sure?" Loki retorts and it finally makes Captain Rogers look up. "- Because it looks to me as if you are."

Loki cannot see Thor who's standing behind him, but he imagines the slow nod of approval he gives the Steve Rogers trio, because suddenly the Captain gives out a heavy sigh, his eyes downcast. "Alright then," he says in defeat and waves Loki closer while clutching her tight.

"Steve!" Tin-man appeals but his best friend has made up his mind.

All eyes turn to Loki.

He's surprised to learn that he doesn't enjoy it as much as he'd imagined he would. He supposes it's because the main difference between him and his brother has once again been underlined so cruelly.

"If you try anything," action figure man warns and Loki bites back: "What? You'll kill me? As if I haven't heard that before. Now get out of my way, mortal."

He steps forwards, squats down beside her and summons the green sparks in the palm of his hand, looks her in the eye for the first time since the day they'd been introduced. There's fire behind her colourful irises; mistrust, chaos and fear. She leans towards him and with all her strength grabs his wrist. "What - are - you - doing?" she pants and wrings him tightly.

"Saving you," he mumbles and turns his palm around, directs the sparks at her gashing wound.

She gives out a small painful hiss as the wound closes up immediately but her eyes never leave his face. They transgress from pain to panic to relief. He's there with her for the whole ride and it does absolutely nothing to drown the embers inside of him.

"Oh my god," Captain Rogers mumbles and runs his fingers over the newly-formed scar on her front as he stares in disbelief.

Her doubting eyes are still carefully watching Loki, her small fingers still wrapped tightly around his wrist. Her mouth goes slack and she finally lets go of him, looks towards the closed up wound, then back at him. "Thank you," she whispers apprehensively.

It makes his seidr glow fluorescently green in his veins and he gets the sudden urge to fall to his knees and lick her clean.

Had Huginn and Muninn only still been alive, he would've made them watch this up close so they could report it back in detail to all of Asgard.

***

The Avengers are not as cold after that. Still wary of him - as they should be - but the hatred and constant fear is gone. And when she comes back from her bed rest, it tickles him that the first thing she does is to seek him out.

"Thank you," she says slowly, almost controlled, and extends her hand as a peace offering, "- for saving my life."

"You already said that."

"Well, I meant it."

He looks up at her. Her mouth is formed to a pout, her body poised in vigilance, her eyes carefully watching his every movement while her hand extends into dangerous grounds. She's still not sure what his motives are and it gives him the opportunity to toy with her a bit. "...I'm honoured?"

A short-lived flame of annoyance flashes across her features as she retracts her hand back to safety with a huff.

"Did I say something wrong?" he quips in the hopes that he can keep her attention.

"You're trying to rile me up."

"How dare you!" He says in mock offence. "I would never!"

She crosses her arms underneath her chest, "I'm trying to offer you an olive branch and all you do is ridicule me. Are you really that desperate for attention?"

It amuses him. He loves when she shows him bits of the real her. "Are you calling me desperate for attention because I don't care I saved your life?"

“Then why did you do it?”

“It was merely strategic,” he shrugs and hopes she doesn’t detect the lie that tastes bitter on his tongue. Why did he save her? The question’s been nagging him for days now. “- it’s never unwise to have an Avenger owe you their life.”

“Wow,” she blinks and shakes her head in disbelief. "I don't know why we all listened to Thor - he said you'd changed but you're clearly still a conniving snake.”

"A snake?” he smiles, relieved that his lie has her convinced, "is that supposed to hurt me? Trust me, darling, I've been called worse."

"Just a gentle reminder that you'll never be anything but a villain."

"I suppose every villain is a hero in their own mind."

She takes the bait and narrows her eyes. "You absolutely destroyed my hometown. All the places I loved. And you have the nerve to call yourself a hero?!"

"Would you prefer a god?"

She flares her nostrils in frustration, "is everything a joke to you?"

"...Mainly?" he smirks "in case you haven't noticed, I'm the God of Mischief - it's in the job description."

She takes a few angry breaths. "Life is always a performance for you, isn't it? Whether it's an endless need for attention, a humorous quip, or the unfolding of another of your great plans, it's always just for show!"

He's excited to feel that the full-blown anger's back and she's seeing red. And to think he was almost disappointed in her?!

She grinds her teeth. "Just so we're clear, I'm not doing this to imply we're even or to make you feel just the slightest bit better about yourself for what you did. Trust me, I'd still rather see you rotting away in a prison cell. You-"

"I must admit," he drawls, gives himself some time to enjoy her undivided, flaming attention as he so impolitely interrupts her, "I like you much more when you're honest with me. When you admit you want to watch me burn! This front of niceties you just put up? This so-called olive branch while you so uncharacteristically give up control? It doesn't suit you."

She wrings her arms in frustration, narrows her eyes into slits. "You're goddamn insufferable!"

***

She's not more intoxicated than the rest of the Avengers, but she is drunk. Agent Romanoff keeps handing her clear liquor in small glasses that they down in a single second, followed by strings of laughs when the alcohol burns in their throats.

He remembers being drunk like that; fresh, sweet-smelling mead from oak barrels in the hundreds, wine in golden carafes on every table. He used to love the parties him and Thor threw; the chaos, the abundance! A heavy flow of alcohol was always a neat little excuse for his erratic behaviour, but the best part was always when the mead was extra good and strong and he could get Thor to follow his lead. Oh, how they used to cause rampage! They would've been unstoppable, had they only been on the same side.

Loki turns around the brown glass bottle in his hand so he can read the blue label; five percent...

He misses the lightheadedness, the parties, him and Thor being on the same side, Asgard. He's never longed for a taste of home this much before. He looks back at her.

"You're being unusually quiet this evening," Thor says from layers away, "should I be worried?"

"Hmm?" Loki snaps out of it, turns his head towards his brother who's sitting with an annoyingly smug expression plastered on his face. "No, I'm just contemplating this piss they call beer. How can they drink it?" He gives the bottle a sniff and winces. "I never thought I'd hear myself say it but I miss Asgard."

"Is that sentiment I sense in you, brother?"

"Absolutely not," he scoffs and looks back at her and Romanoff as they give out a loud laugh. "I'm glad it burned."

Her eyes scan the room, land on Loki's for a split second too long to pretend they didn't register him. For some reason, it satisfies him. She's aware of his presence.

"You like her," he hears Thor's chuckle from beside him.

"Bite your tongue!"

"I notice you stare at her a lot," he chuckles again.

Loki wants to say something. Wants to make Thor pay for what he's implying, but he doesn't really have a great comeback to that.

***

It's later that same evening when she finally approaches him. Toned legs walking towards him, wide hips swaying up the small set of stairs, shoulders pushed arrogantly back as she determinedly stares him down. She only has eyes for him. Finally.

He can't help but meet her halfway; he leans forwards, balances his elbows on his knees, impatiently waits for her to spit on him.

"Loki," she hums with fire in her eyes when the syllables hit her tongue.

"Yes, little dove?" he quips, excited to see her riled up and finally talking to him again.

"I want to talk to you," she scans the room for unwanted attention before her sharp eyes find his again and he feels the bone-white and arctic blue. "This little game you're playing?" She says harshly, "It ends now."

He almost gives in. Almost. "What game?"

"Don't play stupid," she huffs. "I can't do anything without you keeping an eye on me. Tell me what it is you want."

He cannot help the smirk that appears on his lips and he leans a little closer, spreads his knees apart.

"Answer me," she demands, her chest heaving.

"You haven't asked a question," he says calmly as if he truly didn't notice the way her eyes lingered on his crotch.

"You want me to be sincere," she states and takes another step towards him. "-I want the same thing from you."

She's so close he can smell her; sweet, salty, tang on the back of his tongue. She's ripe like a fucking goddess!

He absentmindedly rubs his thighs. "Darling, I assure you; this is me being sincere."

Her chest is heaving in heavy pants. She's annoyed. "Then tell me exactly what you want from me."

She holds his gaze in an insane power play while he ponders for a second. Should he tell her his intentions? String her along for a little while longer and make her second-guess everything? He is the God of Mischief, he supposes, but she looks so sweet, so damn fuckable as she angrily stares down at him. So he gives in and tells her what he wants. After all, why shouldn't he? What's he got to lose?

***

A decent man would've probably kept her at an arms length, tucked her into bed and told her she was way too drunk to make decisions like this, but Loki's not a decent man. He'll take what he can get and leave the decency to team Cap.

With a flick of his wrist, they're back in his bedroom. She's naked in his lap, pushing her lovely tits up against him as she pulls him closer. "You like me," she whispers and licks the shell of his ear. Moves her pelvis against his leather clothing, "you like watching me."

"Shut up," he groans and pulls her flush against his chest, pushes his tongue past her teeth as he grinds her bottom against his crotch.

Her hand comes down between them, slides down over the trail of hair underneath his navel before her fingers find their way to the buttons of his leather pants, unleashes him without a single touch. She eyes him hungrily but keeps her hands to herself, nonverbally insists she has the power to control him. The way she looks at him: he's so hard, it's verging on torture.

"Tell me you like me," she pulls harshly down on his hair, bites him; draws blood from his lower lip.

"Ah!" he hisses though he likes it! "Careful!"

She yanks his hair again with an evil smile and Loki swears, he almost comes.

"You're a devil, aren't you?" he hears himself say as he smacks her ass and bites her nipple, takes advantage of her little jump to push two fingers inside her pulsing heat. She's gushing already, soaks him all the way down to his knuckles as she rides his hand, pinches her own nipples.

"Say my name," he pulls on her earlobe with his teeth. "Spit on me!"

She finds his eye, gives him the same evil smile as before and whispers a short "no," as she arches her back and pushes her nipple back into his mouth. Cheeky little thing.

He curls his fingers and strokes her g-spot, enjoys the sounds she's making for him. Only for him, he reminds himself and feels his chest expanding with something unfamiliar that makes him want to melt into her. He pushes it away; concentrates on the tangible pleasure and not how it makes his head dizzy.

As if on cue, her hands finally find his aching cock and she starts stroking him slowly. He's harder than ever and leaking already.

He looks down between them; small feminine hands caressing him so sweetly is a fantastic contrast to all the biting and pulling. He feels his chest expanding again. "Fuck!" he hisses and pushes himself into her hand to feel something else. Focus on the pleasure, he tells himself and stutters his hips upwards again and again.

Her fingers are running through his hair and she's sucking on his tongue while her hand sets the pace, runs over his stained head. "You want this?" She whispers, bites the thin skin below his jaw.

Fuck yes he wants this! Wants her! He groans.

"You want to save my life?," she bites him again, pulls on his hair. "You want me to spit on you? Are you so desperate to fuck an avenger?"

He hisses at that, grabs her jaw tightly. "I hate the Avengers!"

"Are you sure?" she smiles devilishly and points at the scar on her shoulder. "Are you sure you really hate us?”

He groans in defeat and releases her pretty face with a hiss and positions himself at her entrance, finally pushes himself inside with the same pace as she lowers herself down towards his hips. “Ah! Fuck!”

It's an immediate collision of universes, Loki is seeing stars and needs a second to come down to earth, to savour the feeling, but he hardly has time to get used to the warm wetness squeezing him tight before she starts moving in long, warm pulses.

He's captivated, enchanted! He bites her neck, holds her down, desperate to keep her bouncing in a speed that makes him flex his toes without making him explode. He wants this to last. He wants this memory of her hatefucking him into oblivion. This beautiful, vengeful woman who's mounting him like a stallion and riding him like a valkyrie riding to battle. "Goddess!" he hisses against her neck and she finally finds his mouth and without the use of teeth, presses silky lips against his, makes everything inside of him glow green with desire. It’s desire, he tells himself though it feels like something else.

"Loki," she finally moans in his ear and he's never heard anything sweeter.

He pulls her closer, fucks into her and smells her skin. Kisses the scar below her shoulder.

He saved her.

His seidr runs crazy, tingles throughout every limb, makes him see everything clear: he wants her to want him and only him!

That’s why he saved her.

His last thought before he completely lets go is of the disaster he knows this will bring upon him; his own, personal Ragnarok visible on the horizon. She has the power to make him crumble, to make him burn brighter than the sun and turn to ash. He feels it already and there's no stopping it.

He thinks of Valaskjalf. Of molten gold and flames licking his father’s throne.

She speeds up, moans his name, fills his chest with fire.

Valhalla, I'm coming home.

Find part 2 here

[bridgertonbabe]

I’m popping this here in case you get the urge

But the great Cluedo incident of ‘19…

I need to know what happened!!

BSSG Group Chat

Penelope: So other than all of that

Penelope: How did you enjoy your first game night @ Phillip @ Michael?

Michael:

Phillip: ⬆⬆⬆

Michael: To say I didn't enjoy a single second of last night would be an understatement

Simon: Yeah sounds about right.

Phillip: I can't lie.

Phillip: I did google how to go about getting a restraining order.

Penelope: Honestly Phil that's fair

Simon: I did the same thing after my first game night with them

Phillip: Did you actually go through with it?

Simon: I really was on the verge of it ngl

Simon: But alas, I knew it would be far more trouble than it's worth.

Simon: And besides I should have known what I was marrying into after my first game of pall mall 💀

Penelope: And look as much as we love you guys, if the events of last night were enough to scare you off we'd completely and whole-heartedly understand if you wanted to go NC with the rest of the fam.

Phillip: Just one question

Phillip: Is it just game nights and pall mall that sets them all off like that?

Michael: Yeah we really need to know now if they're triggered like that by anything else

Michael: Because if so...

Simon: It's only anything competitive that sets them all off in that way.

Simon: You have my word on that.

Penelope: ⬆⬆⬆

Penelope: Yes and they're particularly at their worst when they're playing as a family.

Penelope: They really know how to push each others buttons but none of them know when to draw the line

Michael: Yeah no shit

Michael: I managed to pick up on that last night when I was trying to put out an actual fucking fire

Simon: I do have to say that last night was an all time low

Simon: They really were all at their absolute worst

Simon: Even I didn't think they could collectively be that bad, especially after the Pictionary incident of '16

Phillip: I mean I guess it's somewhat of a relief to hear that last night wasn't just a bog standard Bridgerton game night

Phillip: Though from the way you guys are talking about it and now with the mentioned "Pictionary incident", it seems their game nights are always a cause for concern and never fun in general

Michael: Very that

Kate: What?!

Kate: What are you talking about?

Kate: Of course game nights are fun!

Penelope:

Simon: Kate

Simon: Are you actually insane

Kate: Just because last night got a little bit crazy doesn't mean game nights on the whole aren't fun!

Phillip: A little bit crazy????

Penelope: Kate multiple people had to go to hospital last night

Kate: Yeah and?

Kate: It's not like it's the first game night we've ended up in A&E

Michael:

Michael: What do you mean this isn't the first game night that you've ended up in A+E?????

Phillip: ⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆

Phillip: ???????????????

Penelope: Kate 2 casualties as a result of a Bridgerton game night is to be expected but 9 is still nine more than any of us would like

Michael: 2 casualties...

Michael: 2 CASUALTIES IS TO BE EXPECTED?!?!?!?

Phillip: I

Kate: Omg Pen it wasn't 9 casualties

Kate: The doctors were just covering their arses with keeping most of them in over night

Kate: They were fine

Simon: They had smoke inhalation Kate

Michael: Your husband had his eyebrows burnt off

Penelope: Which is what happens when you and Anthony throw a tandem strop and set the kitchen alight

Kate: Objection!

Kate:

Kate: If you want to point the finger at who caused the fire then look no further than your wife @ Simon

Simon: First of all I wasn't pointing fingers

Simon: And secondly I was too busy trying to stem Greg's bleeding to notice the fire happening or who caused

Kate: Deflect all you want but your wife was the firestarter 🔥🔥🔥

Kate: The number of casualties was only so high because of her

Penelope: God I just hope Sophie's ok

Michael: Yeah ngl she's the only one I'm concerned for

Kate: I'm sure she's perfectly fine

Kate: Seriously you guys need to chill

Kate: I don't know why you're all being so negative about last night

Phillip: HYACINTH BOUGHT A FUCKING SWITCHBLADE TO A GAME NIGHT

Michael:

Kate: Omg why are you so mad?

Kate: It's not like she attacked you

Phillip: Oh and I should be so fucking grateful should I???

Phillip: That after attacking 3 others Anthony wrestled it off of her before she could get to me????

Michael: Who tf even let her have a switchblade in the first place???

Penelope: I did tell Colin he'd live to regret getting it for her

Phillip: And he got it for her because?!?!

Penelope: It was the one thing she asked him for when he was in Japan and he thought she just wanted it for ornamental reasons even though I explicitly warned him that definitely wasn't the case

Sophie sent a photo

Sophie sent a photo

Penelope: Omg Sophie!!!!

Penelope: 😍

Sophie: Everyone, meet Alexander 💙

Simon: Oh thank god, congrats Soph! x

Michael: Aw made up for you Soph, he's a right lil beauty! 😘

Phillip: Congrats Sophie 🤗

Penelope: He's so beautiful 🥰 how did it go?

Sophie: As smoothly as it could be considering he's 3 weeks early

Michael: I have to say Ben's rocking that eye patch

Sophie: I mean it's not exactly the get up I expected our son to meet his dad wearing but c'est la vie

Simon: How's Charlie finding being a big brother?

Sophie: I think he's more delighted with his dad looking like a pirate than with his baby brother tbh

Sophie: He very excitedly went to his dress up box and put on his pirate costume so he could be just like his daddy and refused to take it off when we were taking photos of him with Alex.

Sophie sent a photo

Penelope: Oh bless him he looks pleased as punch

Sophie: He couldn't hand Alex back to me fast enough so he could have a sword fight with Ben and make him walk the plank

Phillip: Btw just wanted to say Sophie that I'm really sorry that El accused you of faking your water breaking just to get out of the game.

Penelope: I'm sorry on Colin's behalf too Soph

Sophie: It's ok guys, I appreciate it and besides you were the ones who called the ambulance for me.

Simon: Unlike someone.

Michael: @ Kate

Kate: Omg Alex is absolutely gorgeous, congrats Soph! x

Simon: ...

Simon: Anything else you'd like to say?

Penelope: Yeah any apology to extend?

Kate: Ok ok ok

Kate: Sophie I know I didn't believe you were in labour and refused to call an ambulance

Kate: But from my side of things it just seemed really convenient that your contractions started just as you were losing

Michael: This isn't an apology???

Simon: Your newborn nephew isn't evidence enough that you were clearly in the wrong???

Kate: Ok fine I'm sorry for not calling an ambulance when you needed it Sophie!

Sophie: K.

Kate: But I will add, who's to say she didn't fake contractions and then get induced once she got to the hospital?

Sophie has left the chat.

Michael: Jesus fucking Christ

Simon has removed Kate from the chat.

Simon has added Sophie to the chat.

Simon: Don't worry I removed her.

Sophie: Thanks Simon x

Phillip: One more question.

Phillip: Did the Bridgertons corrupt Kate to be like that or was she god forbid like that anyway?

Penelope: Unfortunately Kate married in being equally as deranged as them in any competitive setting 😔

Michael:

Simon: Very that.

[zivazivc]

OMG🫣😝😍❤️❤️❤️ Liv's parents are sooo cool and their designs are sick!!! What are their inspiration and can you tell more about this family 🥺❤️ ?

Thank you very much! I feel like I really hit the nail on the head with their designs, but the truth is they were cooking in my head for a very long time before this.

From the first time I thought about what all the bandmates' parents would look like, I was already thinking of making Liv's parents both Techno/Rock fusions like her. I think what originally made me gravitate towards this idea is the fact that Liv is the only one in the band who has a very very strong sense of self and does not have any kind of identity crisis or self image issues. I feel like the only way to make this fact feel believable in a young character in her position is through their parents. So I gave her parents who are both similar to her and each other and who are together and loving, and who live in a society of other Rock/Techno trolls too. (Also thinking about it more, it just made sense that the "rockers" and the "ravers" would have the largest population of mixed offspring, they're also right next to each other on the map, so i came up with the Shallows and all of that because of this...)

Liv's genre at the very start was very simply just electronic rock. But as I discovered more music over the past months she became more industrial metal with punk elements. - My OCs develop a lot by me bouncing them off each other. When Hed and Liv meet, Hed's Rock/Metal instincts are very much suppressed from living almost his entire life around Funk Trolls. I needed Liv's genre (to obviously feel right for her, but also) to be hardcore enough to be able to bring out Hed's suppressed side without clashing with his love for rap.

At the moment this is the most "Hed and Liv making music together" song I have in my playlists:

Now that Liv's genre/playlist stopped changing so much and I've been happy with where I am with her for a while, I was able to determine her parents' genres based on that. Which was simply one parent being Industrial Metal and the other something electronic and punk (which I later found out is just called Electropunk lol).

Her dad Flint is heavily based on Keith Flint from the Prodigy. So heavily he is basically that guy's trollsona lol.

The Prodigy, if you don't know, were pioneers in fusing dance music with rock music. It was pretty fascinating reading about it. I recently watched this good and not-dragged-out video about their origins and till their biggest single Firestarter.

Even before I started designing any of them I knew I wanted to give one of the parents' very stylized neon "shark teeth". In my mind it felt like such a good fusion of sharp Rock teeth and the weird blocky neon Techno teeth. And when I fixated on Keith Flint for inspiration it just felt right to give them to him. Look at this guy!

I named the dad Flint simply after this guy's last name. But also it's a nice rocky name. Also flint was historically used to start fire which kind of makes it a punk name in my opinion too. Plus -> Firestarter, the big Prodigy single. :P

The mom I designed after I outlined the dad and I didn't have any particular person in mind for her. Her design is mostly Liv's characteristics that I didn't yet represent in her dad. Direct outside inspiration was more or less just these cool neon rave pants because she deserved some bright color lmao.

I gave her a German accent because I always imagined Liv with a vague European accent, and also simply because Germans seem to be the gods of industrial metal. But my music inspiration when drawing her was also Laibach, which is a Slovenian band, so I gave her the name Meta because it is both a German and Slovenian name (In German it's a short form of Margarete meaning "pearl", and in Slovenian the name literally means "mint".) Meta also just felt like a good fit to go along with Oblivion, Liv's full name.

Now as I've written all this and read the question again I realize this is probably not what you were asking for at all... But consider this as a bit of a behind the scenes for my AU. 😅 Bonus content on the dvd but instead in the form of a boring tumblr post. :P

[ally-writes-many-things]

Firestarter (Tristan Flynn) 18+

Summary: You had a crush on Flynn for all of your life but being Dec's little sister, Flynn never looked at her like that.

Words: 6.4K

Warnings or A/N: thinking about doing a part 2. Towards the end of the story, there is a very descriptive smut. MDNI with this story.

Art

Tristan Flynn had this charm to him that could draw females towards him with just a single glance, while his intimidating glare could send enemies fleeing in fear. It was this captivating thing that had initially sparked your crush on him.

Currently, he was seated in an armchair, with a dryad nestled on his lap. You couldn't help but let out a sigh, tearing your eyes away and taking a sip from your cup. "Are you interested, Emmett?"

"Interested in what?" You asked in confusion.

"We're all heading to the White Raven. Are you in?" came the question.

"You two have the biggest mouths in town," you heard Bryce remark, causing you to turn your head and see Bryce standing next to Declan, Flynn, and her cousin.

Flynn winked mischievously at her. "I thought you enjoyed my mouth."

"Keep dreaming, lordling," Bryce responded with a smirk.

You glanced at Bryce, taking in her captivating beauty. She exuded confidence with her voluptuous figure, flawless complexion, and mesmerizing eyes. Her vibrant red hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves. She was undoubtedly Flynn's type, unlike yourself. While you knew you were hot, you couldn't compare to Bryce Quinlin's allure. As she turned around and spotted you, a warm smile adorned her face. "Hey, (Name)."

Returning her greeting, you offered a sweet smile in return. "Hey, Bryce."

Although jealousy occasionally flickered towards Bryce and the attention Flynn showed her, you didn't hold it against her. After all, she couldn't control how others perceived her. Glancing briefly at Flynn, who was currently engaged in a steamy makeout session with the dryad, you refocused your attention on your group of friends. Placing your cup down, you nodded. "Let's do it."

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

Upon waking up, a pulsating headache throbbed in your head, accompanied by a knocking at your front door. As you opened your bedroom door, you saw your friends sprawled on the floor, fast asleep alongside some unfamiliar guys. Before you could even make your way towards the door, it swung open, revealing Dec standing there. He glanced at the males scattered across your living room floor before directing a pointed look towards you. In response, you rolled your eyes and approached him, firmly placing your hand on his shoulder and guiding him out of your house. "What have I told you about coming into my house uninvited?"

"If you had answered your door the first fifty times or even responded to my calls, I wouldn't have to," he retorted.

"Why are you going through all this trouble?" you inquired.

"Because I turned my attention away from you for a moment and you vanished. I just assumed you had left, but then neither you nor your friends could be reached," he explained.

Your heart began to race. Has something happened to Flynn or Ruhn? "What's happened? Are Flynn and Ruhn alright?"

"Yeah, they're fine," he reassured.

"Why are you here at seven in the morning?" you pressed.

"Just checking on you, since nobody could find you at the party and you were ignoring your phone. Now I know why you were busy sleeping with those guys, who knows what they wanted," he remarked sharply.

Perplexed, you blinked at your brother, wondering why he was speaking to you in such a manner. His best friends frequently slept with random women, after all. "Hold on, are you seriously lecturing me for sleeping with random guys when your roommates do the exact same thing with women? Do you honestly believe I'm foolish enough to bring males home? They brought them here. I didn't even know until I woke up. Declan, you of all people should know I would never do that. I'm not that type of woman," You said, releasing a frustrated sigh.

Declan pulled you into a hug, and you reciprocated. "I just tend to get overprotective. I'm your older brother. It's my duty to look out for you," he admitted.

"D, you made sure I could fend for myself when you're not around. You, Ruhn, and Flynn all did," you asserted, stepping away from the embrace. "I'm not that little girl anymore. Your job is complete."

Declan offered a sad smile. "My responsibility to protect you doesn't end simply because you've grown up. I will always be there for you."

"Yeah, yeah. Now, get to the Aux before they fire your ass," you teased.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

As you stepped into the dimly lit atmosphere of the White Raven, you couldn't help but notice the various scenes unfolding around you. Some people were indulging in drugs in the corners, while others were drowning themselves in alcohol or dancing on the dance floor. Over to the right, in the VIP section, you spotted Ruhn, Declan, Flynn and the dryad from the other night. You rolled your eyes, already sensing that your night was about to become less enjoyable, but you were determined not to let them ruin your fun. You led your friends to your usual table and ordered a round of drinks.

Just as the waiter returned with your beverages, Flynn's dryad friend started making her way towards your table. You let out a sigh, knowing how this was going to play out. "Here we go," you muttered.

"She's going to try to act like she's Flynn's girlfriend," one of your friends predicted.

"They always do," another chimed in.

“If you need anything else, let the bartender know. My name is Myles,” The waiter winked at you three before sauntering away, and just as he did, the dryad approached your table.

She opened her mouth to speak, but your friend interrupted her. "Before you say anything to (Name), just know that you're not special. Flynn will keep you around for, what, two or maybe three weeks before he gets bored and tosses you aside," Your friend sneered.

The dryad's eyes narrowed at your friend before shifting her gaze to you. "Everyone knows that you have a crush on Flynn, but he's not interested in you at all. He's only friends with you because you're his best friend's little sister," she retorted.

You chuckled and turned to face her. "Have you ever noticed the hair tie on his right wrist?"

The dryad nodded. "Yes, what about it?"

"It's mine. I gave it to him a few years ago to hold for me and forgot about it. When I asked for it back, he refused, saying that it's like a piece of me is always with him. So, if you think I don't matter to him, I dare you to go ask him to take it off," You explained calmly as you took a sip of your drink.

The dryad's eyes narrowed further before silently walking back towards the VIP section. "You know Flynn won't be happy about this, right?" she warned.

"I couldn't care less. If he doesn't want me telling off his bitches, he should keep them from running their mouths to me," you replied, undeterred.

You finished your drink and sat it down on the table. With a carefree spirit, you sauntered onto the dance floor, ready to let loose and allow the music to wash over you. As the rhythm embraced you, your body effortlessly swayed and grooved, purely in sync with the music in the club. Your moves became more intricate and mesmerizing with each passing beat.

The bass thumped through your body, elevating your mood and intensifying your connection with the music. With each step, you felt a surge of electricity running through your veins, pulsating with the rhythm. The crowd around you seemed to fade away, and it was just you and the music, in a euphoric trance.

The colorful lights danced across your skin, accentuating your fluid movements and creating an aura of mystique. Everything else became a blur as you surrendered yourself to the music, allowing it to guide you, to release any inhibitions or worries that burdened you.

As you felt a touch on your hips, you turned around to discover that it was Myles, the waiter. Myles was hot and you wanted to feel every inch of him, causing you to realize that you were now ready to move on from Flynn. The constant presence of Flynn's bitches approaching you with intentions to intimidate, driven by their jealousy, had grown tiresome. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you found solace in placing your back against his chest while the rhythm of the club music guided your movements.

Feeling his warmth and steady heartbeat against your back, you let yourself relax and melt into him. His strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer. The pulsating beats of the music resonated through your bodies, synchronizing your movements and creating an intoxicating dance between the two of you.

As you closed your eyes, you willingly submitted to the music, allowing it to gently guide your bodies closer in an intimate embrace. Softly, his warm breath whispered against your ear, presenting a question, "Would you like to continue this elsewhere?"

In response, you subtly released your arms from around his neck and nodded in agreement. "Absolutely," You responded with certainty.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

"And today she simply yelled at me," The dryad recounted.

He nodded his head passively as he endured the dryad's ceaseless prattle. The subject matter held no interest for him whatsoever. Together, they made their way to the White Raven to meet with Ruhn and Declan, intending to drown their collective stress with copious amounts of alcohol. Although it had been several days since he had last spoken to you, an underlying annoyance nagged at Flynn. Yet, he forced himself to suppress those rising thoughts as he approached Ruhn and Declan. "Yo, Flynn. We've got a couple glasses of your regular order," Ruhn announced.

"Sweet," Flynn replied, accepting one of the glasses and swiftly consuming its contents.

The trio struggled to engage in any meaningful conversation, thanks to the incessant ramblings of the dryad. Just as Flynn was contemplating ordering another drink, Ruhn's gaze fixated upon someone, causing a mischievous grin to form on his face. "She's going to cause trouble for us tonight," Ruhn remarked.

Curiosity piqued, both Declan and Flynn directed their gaze towards the same individual. True to Ruhn's prediction, she was definitely going to cause trouble for them tonight. Clad in a short form-fitting black dress with a captivating hollow halter neckline that accentuated her every curve, her hair flowed elegantly down her back. Flynn couldn't help but be captivated by her hair, as he often was. He loved your hair.

She exchanged a pleasant smile with one of the males as he walked by, instantly capturing Flynn's attention. He became tense when he noticed that almost all the males in the club were fixated on her. His gaze followed her as she led her group of friends to their regular table and placed an order with the waiter. Flynn noticed the dryad casting a disapproving glare at him, but he paid no mind. All that mattered to him was keeping her within his sight, especially when she was dressed like that. He only realized that the dryad had left when she reached your table.

One of your friends said something to her, prompting the dryad to turn and address you. However, all you did was laugh and say something back before heading onto the dance floor. The dryad returned to Flynn and scrutinized his wrist. "If we're going to be together, I want you to remove that hair tie."

Ruhn and Declan winced upon hearing her demand, fully understanding the significance of that hair tie to Flynn. Declan glanced at the dryad. "I wouldn't do that."

"I refuse to date someone who keeps another woman's hair tie on his wrist. Take it off," the dryad insisted.

Flynn's hand instinctively touched the hair tie before he lifted his arm to show it to her. "You mean this hair tie?"

Flynn forced a laugh before locking eyes with the dryad. "Do you have any idea how annoying you are? Sure, you may be good in bed, but that doesn't make up for how unbearable you truly are. We are not dating, and we never will be. This hair tie will remain on my wrist, unless it breaks. Now, get the fuck out of the VIP section and lose my contact information."

The dryad attempted to voice her objection, but Ruhn swiftly indicated to the security guard to remove her. Flynn paid no further heed to the dryad, directing his gaze towards the dance floor until he spotted you. His heart sank as he witnessed you and the waiter moving your bodies to the music. His hands were against her waist, guiding you effortlessly across the crowded dance floor. There was something festering inside him but he didn't know what the feeling was.

With each beat of the music, his grip on his glass grew tighter, his knuckles turning white. His once easy going demeanor morphed into something unrecognizable - a mixture of turmoil, anger, and an unfamiliar emotion. He couldn't stand the sight any longer, couldn't bear to see you leaving the White Raven with another male.

He got out of his seat to push the waiter away from you but he was halted by Declan. "Don't," he urged.

Confused, Flynn exclaimed, "What do you mean, don't? She's leaving with him,”

Declan calmly took a sip of his drink and sighed. "She is a grown woman, whom we have all trained. She is fully capable of handling herself, and she knows that we are just a phone call away if she needs us."

Flynn glanced towards the exit of the white Raven, observing the two of you departing.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

To: Fireststarter

Hey.

To: Firestar.

I saw you leave the club with that guy. Just checking in. You good?

To: Firestar

Hello?

To: Firestar

(Name)

To: Fireststarter

Oh, so you can text Ruhn and Declan back but not me?

Flynn gazed at the multitude of messages he had sent you that remained unacknowledged or unseen. He had reached out to you this morning to check on your well-being, but upon receiving no response, a sense of worry had washed over him. Ruhn and Declan assured him that you were fine, but Flynn couldn't bring himself to fully accept their reassurances. After all, it was unlike you to disregard his messages. So, he found himself standing on your doorstep, inhaling deeply before rapping on the door with trepidation. "Coming," your voice echoed from within.

A surge of relief coursed through Flynn upon hearing your voice; you were safe. However, as you opened the door, his heart sank. Dressed in a male's shirt adorned with visible hickeys on your neck, you greeted him with a casual "Oh hey Flynn."

"Hey. I was just checking up on you. You never responded to any of my texts," he uttered, concern evident in his tone.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I had intended to, but got caught up with something," you explained.

"Yeah, that 'something' would be me," a male voice chimed in from behind the door.

You glanced back with amusement before redirecting your attention to Flynn. "Are we finished here? You can see that I'm alive."

Flynn nodded solemnly, and you promptly closed the door in his face.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

It has been several weeks, and Flynn has not heard from you much, maybe only two or three times. Surprisingly, Ruhn and even your own brother haven't heard from you much either. It was painful for Flynn, feeling like you were pushing him away, and he was unsure of how to handle the situation.

"Have you seen (Name)? She actually seems genuinely happy for once," Flynn overheard Ruhn and Declan talking in the kitchen.

Ruhn remarked. "I think it's all thanks to Myles," he added.

Flynn quietly approached the kitchen and noticed Declan and Ruhn standing next to the island with an opened box of pizza. "Nah," Declan replied, taking a slice. "While Myles may have played a role in her happiness, ultimately, it's her own doing. She's smart enough not to rely solely on one guy for her happiness."

At that moment, Flynn entered the kitchen and went to the fridge to grab a beer. He couldn't help but ask, "So, she's still with Myles?"

"As far as I know," Declan replied, taking a bite of his pizza.

Flynn's grip on the beer bottle tightened. "I don't understand what she sees in him. He's an arrogant asshole," he expressed his frustration.

Both Ruhn and Declan rolled their eyes. Flynn had been complaining about Myles ever since you walked out of the White Raven with him for the first time. "Come on, guys. No, he's not good for her. He's cutting her off from everyone," Flynn argued.

While Declan remained silent, Ruhn decided to speak up. "Actually, Declan and I hear from her almost every day, if not every night. Her friends also hear from her multiple times a day. He's not cutting her off from anyone," Ruhn clarified.

Flynn's heart skipped a beat upon hearing that news. "What?" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"The only person who seems to be cut off is you," Ruhn said softly.

Flynn's breathing became heavy as he processed the information. It felt as though his world was closing in on him. Could it be true that he was the only one you had distanced yourself from? What had he done wrong? "Why would she do that? I haven't done anything wrong," he questioned, feeling a mix of confusion and hurt.

Declan, who had remained silent on the matter, slammed his hands on the table. "You are right. You hasn't done anything wrong. Ever since she was young, she has had fucking feelings for you. But now that she has grown tired of waiting for your attention and moved on, you suddenly want to act jealous and talk shit about the person that is allowing her to do that? Stop treating her as if she is some kind of lost puppy. Leave my sister the fuck alone, Tristan," Declan stated with a venomous tone before storming out of the kitchen.

The only instances when people referred to him by his full name were when he made mistakes or if they were extremely angry with him. Flynn observed his best friend climbing the staircase to his room before turning his attention back to Ruhn. "I am not jealous. She has been with other people before," he explained as he took a seat on the bar stool.

Leaning against the counter, Ruhn crossed his arms over his chest. "This is different, and deep down, you know it," he asserted.

Flynn sighed and covered his face with his hands. "Yes, I do know that, but I can't quite pinpoint what it is. I have never had such anissue with her seeing other guys like this before."

"That's because you were use to her constant attention. Now that she no longer gives it to you, you realize that you never gave her a chance. You never gave that extraordinary, one-of-a-kind girl a real chance. The girl who would do anything for you, and now you can't," Ruhn replied.

Flynn uncovers his face and remarks, "You sound like you were in love with her."

"Maybe I once was, but it wasn't me that she wanted," Ruhn uttered, uncrossing his arms and leaving the room.

Flynn quietly eased himself off the barstool, swiftly draped his jacket over his shoulders, and exited his house. He needed some time alone to ponder over the emotions swirling inside him before discussing them with you. Was he experiencing these sentiments simply due to his familiarity with receiving your attention, or was he truly developing genuine feelings towards you?

As Flynn stepped outside, the cool afternoon air provided some clarity amidst the confusion in his mind. He strolled down the streets, his thoughts consumed by the question of his emotions towards you. The weight of his jacket, a familiar comfort, mirrored the weight of his contemplations.

Flynn had always appreciated your attention and cherished the moments you spent together. Whether it was engaging conversations or shared experiences, your presence in his life had become significant. Yet, as he delved deeper into his thoughts, he contemplated whether these sentiments were merely a result of familiarity or if they held true depth.

He recalled instances when your interactions transcended friendship, filling him with a sense of warmth and happiness. Moments where laughter came effortlessly, and conversations flowed effortlessly. But Flynn wondered if these were fleeting sparks that could scatter in the wind, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

As he continued his solitary walk, Flynn sifted through memories of shared experiences, both joyful and challenging. The genuine care and support you had shown him when he needed it most left a lasting impression. Your unwavering presence had forged a bond that he couldn't easily dismiss.

"Come on, Myles," a familiar voice beckoned.

Flynn's attention was immediately drawn to the voice and he spotted Myles with a different girl, seated at a restaurant's patio. Upon closer inspection, Flynn recognized her as one of your closest friends. A surge of anger coursed through his veins as he witnessed your best friend lean in and kiss Myles. When your friend noticed him, her eyes widened in shock and she muttered, "Oh, fuck."

"What's wrong?" Myles inquired, turning to face the source of the disturbance. Realizing Flynn's presence, he hurriedly stood up and retreated. "This isn't what you think," he pleaded.

Flynn's hand tightened into a clenched fist by his side as he confidently advanced a few steps. "Oh really? It looks like that you are cheating on (Name) with her best friend," he stated.

Myles stumbled backwards, guilt plastered across his face, intermingled with threads of shame. "Flynn, I can explain. It's not what you think," he stammered, his voice filled with panic.

Flynn clenched his fists. His gaze shifted towards your best friend, her expression a mixture of guilt and sorrow. Anguish jolted through his body, shoving away any lingering doubts or denial.

Flynn lunged forward, his fist colliding with Myles' cheekbone. The sickening crack echoed through the streets.

Myles recoiled, his hand instinctively reaching for his throbbing cheek. Anger and desperation twisted his features as he lunged forward himself, his fist aiming for Flynn's jaw. The punch landed, the sharp pain reverberating through Flynn's skull, but it only fueled his determination to wipe the grin off Myles' face.

Ignoring the dull pain that spread from his face, Flynn unleashed a torrent of punches, each fueled by a cocktail of raw emotion. Blow after blow, he vented his anger, that turned to pure wrath. Eventually, with each strike, Myles began to show the invisible cracks, his movements faltering, his strength waning.

And then, like a final act of defiance against the inevitable, Flynn summoned every ounce of courage he possessed. A powerful right hook, fueled by his pain and the agonizing realization of Myles' betrayal, landed squarely on his jaw. Myles crumbled onto the pavement, defeated and broken.

Flynn's gaze was squarely fixated on Myles, who was scattered on the pavement before shifting his attention towards the gathered crowd. He was well-aware that this incident would be broadcasted on the news later, but his indifference remained unshaken. Swiftly, he brushed away the trickling blood from his lip and turned his focus to your best friend. "You are nothing but a fucking whore that gets her ass beatwhen she finds out. I genuinely hope that once your employers become aware of what you did to their daughter, they ruin your pathetic ass life," he uttered, emphasizing his words with a formal tone. “She didnt deserve this. You don't deserve her,”

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

When he got home, he disregarded the barrage of questions hurled at him by Ruhn. Explaining himself to him held no importance to him, only one he will explain himself to was you. Entering his bathroom in his room, he flicked on the light, fixing his gaze upon his reflection in the mirror. Various bruises marred his facial features, accompanied by a few cuts on his lip. The cut on his lip would likely heal within a few hours, while the bruises on his face would likely subside by tomorrow evening.

"Gods, Trist," You uttered, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror before he turned towards you directly. Clad in a simple CCU crop top and leggings, he greeted you with a slight smirk. "You should see the other guy," he sheepishly smiled.

Approaching him, you chuckled. "I already did. I was sent the video. Please, sit on your bed," You instructed, bending down to retrieve a cloth from the bottom drawer.

"Firestar-" he began to say.

Firestar.

He gave the nickname "Firestar" after witnessing your Drop and the manifestation of your fire manipulation abilities. Recognizing your initial disappointment upon discovering that you shared this power with Dec, he assured that you were the star among fire users, nicknaming you as Firestar.

“Sit down," you commanded assertively.

He nodded, retreating to his bed, while you soaked a cloth in water. Witnessing you wringing out the excess water from the rag over the sink, he was momentarily captivated. Turning off the bathroom light, you approached him, assuming a position on your knees before him. This image provoked him to almost go feral, a sensation he had never experienced in your presence. Shaking off these unfamiliar emotions, he allowed you to tend to his hand, cleaning the remnants of Myles' blood. After discarding the used cloth in his bathroom, you retrieved another, standing up in the process. Straddling him unexpectedly, you caused his breath to hitch in his throat. He placed his hands on your bare skin. It was while you attended to cleaning the blood from his face that he couldn't help but notice, with heightened appreciation, the sheer beauty that radiated from you. Though he had always recognized this allure, there was something indefinable that set you apart in this moment, something that made his heart skip a beat. Perhaps it was the way your focused gaze softened as you meticulously attended to his wounds, or the way your hands moved with grace and gentleness as you wiped away the blood.

In that moment, everything faded into the background, and he realized that he had been taking you for granted all this time. The simple act of tending to his wounds made him recognize the depth and complexity of emotions he felt towards you. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the full extent of his admiration and love for you.

"Why did you do it?" you gently inquired, placing your hands upon his chest.

"It is one thing to cheat, but an entirely different matter to cheat on you. You did not deserve that. I would repeat my actions countless times, even if it meant incurring you being mad or if it caused you to hate me," he confessed, his grip on your hips tightening.

Though he despised the notion of you hating him, he spoke with unwavering sincerity. He would obliterate anyone who dared to harm you.

"Why him, though? I have been in relationships with others in the past and have experienced cheating before, yet you never did that before," Flynn exhaled heavily. "This is different. I was not bothered by your past relationships because you didn't ghost me. However, it killed me to see you with Myles, knowing you cut me off."

"I didn't want to. He made me," you explained, guilt filling your voice.

"I fucking knew it. I knew you would not cut me off like that. It wasn't like you," Flynn remarked.

"Why does it matter whether I cut you off or not? I assumed you would either forget about me or not even notice," you responded.

This behavior was unlike you. Typically, you exuded confidence and never doubted yourself, even with him. Your fiery personality and self-assurance were always present. "Are you joking?" Flynn questioned.

As you glanced down at your legs that were separated by Flynn's legs, Flynn took a deep breath before gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. "You are unforgettable, firestar. Do you really believe I could forget about you, especially when I keep this hair tie on my wrist? You know me better than that."

"I am unforgettable compared to the girls that jump at you," you added.

Flynn was incredulous at the words that reached his ears. With a disapproving shake of his head. “Shut up,”

Your widened eyes revealed hurt as Flynn gently brushed his hand across your cheek and into your hair, drawing you closer to him. He drew you nearer to him, gently pressed his lips against yours.

As your lips met, time stood still, and everything else faded away. It felt like a dream, but the electricity coursing through his body assured him that it was very much real. Your fingers seamlessly intertwined with his silky hair and tugged on it. In return, he licked your lips with his tongue, seeking dominance over this kiss. Meeting his request without hesitation, your mouth welcomed his entry with an eager embrace. A delightful shiver down his spine as his tongue slid over mine, evoking a pleasurable moan that escaped your lips, savoring his taste that enveloped your senses.

His touch was electric, sending tingles down your spine as you deepened the kiss, lost in the moment with him. Every movement, every breath, was synchronized as you both moved your lips together.

His hands roamed your body, igniting a fire within you that only he could quench. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, yet you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. His presence consumed you, drawing you deeper into the depths of desire and lust.

As you reached out to unbutton his shirt, Flynn suddenly pulled away from you and grasped your hands to halt your movements. "I'm sorry, I misinterpreted the situation," You expressed, retracting your hands and preparing to move away. However, Flynn firmly held onto your thighs, anchoring you in place.

“I am well aware that you can feel just how fucking bad I want you as my dick is between your legs but I want to make you know that I just don't want to fuck you. I want all of it. I am willing to take this slow," Flynn explained.

Although he wanted so badly to throw you on this bed and have you scream his name, he wanted you to know that it wasn't just for sex.

After a tender kiss, you reassured Flynn of your understanding. "Let's talk about this after we've fucked," You stated as you proceeded to remove Flynn's shirt.

You position yourself on your knees before him. As you ran your hand over his jeans, Flynn responded by rolling his eyes. Taking your time to savor the moment, you began to unbuckle his pants, prompting him to lift his hips to allow you to remove them. Placing your lips upon him through his boxers, you kissed him before exploring further with your tongue, never breaking eye contact.

Flynn found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you, his breath becoming increasingly unsteady as you continued to kiss and lick him through his boxers. Though the temptation to remove the barrier between you two and take him into your mouth was strong, he restrained himself, captivated by the raw desire in your eyes. With his boxers now removed, you revealed him fully, eliciting a skipped beat from Flynn's heart as you smiled at his size. Firmly grasping him, you elicited a gasp as he responded eagerly to your touch. As you licked and explored every inch of him. “Gods,” Flynn uttered.

Despite Flynn's desire to be more assertive, he allowed you to lead this, not wanting to overshadow the experience for you. While he longed to hear your reaction to him making you gag, he restrained himself, saving that intensity for another time.

The sound of your pleasure as you pushed him to the back of your throat was enough to make him go feral. He couldn't resist grabbing a handful of your hair and increasing the intensity, reveling in the beautiful sounds you made.

As he fucked your mouth, he found pleasure in observing his dick disappearing into your mouth, eagerly anticipating the moment when it would be buried deep inside your pussy. With a guttural groan, he reached his peak and released into your mouth, which you continued sucking until he spilled completely down your throat.

Flynn firmly grasped your throat, hoisting you up from the ground. He kissed you while he removed the hair tie that held your hair back, releasing your beautiful hair from its confinement. He absolutely loved your hair and the way it cascaded down your back like a waterfall of silk. He couldn't resist running his fingers through it, feeling the smooth strands slide between his fingertips. As he continued to kiss you, he felt your body relax against his, surrendering to the desire that burned between you two.

With a low growl, he let go of your neck and pushed you onto the bed. "It's not fair that you're still fully clothed while I'm naked," he remarked.

In response, you flashed a mischievous smile. “Rip them off," you suggested wickedly.

Flynn smiled mischievously in return, taking hold of your shirt and tearing it into shreds, scattering the torn fabric across the room. He noted your lack of a bra when he first caught sight of you in the mirror earlier. Your body responded eagerly to his touch, with your nipples eagerly anticipating his attention. However, he decided to give them attention later as he wanted to taste your pussy.

In a swift motion, he replicated his actions on your leggings, tearing them away and discarding them aside. Firmly gripping your thighs, he positioned himself between your legs and lowered himself onto the bed. Beginning at the base, he traced his tongue upwards along you, eliciting a delicious response from you. The sensation of your moans reverberated through him, further fueling his desire. Concentrating on your pleasure, Flynn shifted his focus to your clit, causing you to arch in pleasure.

As you writhed beneath his touch, Flynn maintained his composure, steadying your movements with a firm hand on your waist. Inserting a finger inside you, he initiated a rhythmic motion that elicited a deep moan from your throat. "Just like that," he murmured, his actions conveying a sense of mastery and control.

As he was on the brink of adding another finger, the interruption came in the form of his door being pushed open. Consumed by you, Flynn paid little heed to the person, fully immersed in bringing you please.

"What the fuck is going on here?”

Even Declan's voice failed to divert his attention from your clit. "Oh hey, Dec," you greeted nonchalantly.

Your voice exhibited traces of euphoria akin to the effects of Mirthroot, a reaction that elicited a smile from Flynn, aware that he was the catalyst. "What the fuck is this?" inquired Declan.

"Your best friend is eating me out. Would you, I don't know, get the fuck out?" You requested.

As the door closed behind Declan, Flynn intensified his actions, inserting an additional digit within you and increasing the intensity, skillfully manipulating his fingers to elicit loud moans. "Gods, Flynn," you exclaimed, your hand finding their way to his hair as you held onto it firmly.

As he indulged in licking, sucking, and biting, the sounds of your increasing moans only fueled his passion. He savored each and every one of your desperate breaths, keenly aware of your impending climax. "Let yourself go, baby girl," he whispered against your clit.

The vibrations of Flynn's words against your skin proved to be the final trigger, causing you to reach the peak of ecstasy and release all control as you climaxed on his face.

Flynn lapped up all of it before leaning up and pumped himself a few good times making sure he was hard enough for you before he flipped you on to your stomach and pulled your ass up to the air. He lined himself up to your entrance and pushed himself into you. You both groaned at the stretching he was causing.

Placing his hands on your hips, he began to move slowly, mindful of not causing you discomfort as you adjusted to his size. "Fuck me like you mean it, Trist. You're not going to break me," you urged.

"You’re going to regret that," Flynn replied, withdrawing from you momentarily before thrusting back in with force.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as you welcomed the pain. With a firm grip on your hips, Flynn increased the hardness and depth of his movements, leaving you grasping at the sheets.

He moved with a forcefulness that made him acutely aware of every point of contact, prompting you to match your movements with his. "Do you like how I feel?" you asked, your voice purred.

"Yes, baby. You feel fucking amazing. Even if I desired another cunt, which I do not, my thoughts would still be consumed by you," he confessed.

Upon hearing his words, you swiftly positioned yourself on top of him, reveling in the sensation of him filling you completely. "I want to fucking ride you," you declared.

Flynn smiled approvingly and agreed. He rarely allowed others to take the reins, but for you, he would make an exception.

You began to move vigorously on top of him, emitting sounds that reverberated in his ears. Flynn was completely absorbed in the moment, experiencing a level of satisfaction he had never felt before. His declaration that he desired only you rang true, as he was utterly captivated by your presence.

"Gods!" Flynn groaned as you both reached climax. Your ecstatic reaction echoed throughout the room, with Flynn showing no concern for the presence of Declan and Ruhn. As you collapsed onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily, a silence enveloped the room as you rested. Gradually, your breaths steadied, eventually lulling you to sleep, exhausted from it.

As he listened to your breathing, he thought about everything. He thought about the night that you left with Myles. That part of him that died. That feeling. Then that feeling when he saw you with him a few more times. One of those times, something hit him emotionally and physically. He didn't realize it at the time but as he listened to your breathing, it all made sense. “She’s my mate,” He said out loud.

[kittyphoenix12-xx]

Heya there! I haven't ever been in the ST fandom but I've recently taken interest into Billy. Are there any pics you'd recommend? Any good angst works? I don't necessarily need them to be shippy. I don't mind whether you post this or answer privately. Thanks for your time :>

hello and welcome 💓💓💓

here's some of my favs <3

master of puppets, i'm pulling your strings by orphan_account - a Robin & Billy friendship fic

The Great Escape by flippyspoon - a post s3 Billy/Steve + Billy & Hopper fic that i reread at least once a year

Something Like a Family by HashtagLEH - a 20 (!!!) part series starring Billy & El sibling bond

We Dance In The Moonlight With Stars As Our Spotlights by lilies_in_a_vase - ANOTHER Robin & Billy friendship fic

The Trees Have Eyes by RomanTheRamen - Billy has plant powers and i think that's neat

break (like waves) by residual - angsty s2 Steve/Billy

Baby steps by Thei - Billy's a single father and it's a wonderful fic

when stars come falling from the sky by whenyouwishuponastar - what's this? ANOTHER Robin & Billy friendship fic

if i stare too long by brawls (brawlite), ToAStranger - post s4 Billy/Eddie/Steve angst fest

Scoops Troop and a Cherry on Top by Deathinasmalltown - a Billy/Steve s3 canon-divergence

Abandon by Timetravelersunited - a fascinating Billy character study

The Firestarter Series by Ludovico_is_my_homeboy - Billy & Steve are lab experiments

Saint Anger by maikurosaki - Billy/Steve + devastating Billy character study

songbird by justaluckybug - an interesting take on way Billy & Max came to Hawkins

22 Acacia Ave by DontCallMeNans - a fun Billy/Eddie fic

Yeah, It's Me by CallieB - fascinating Billy/Steve dynamic

Don't Leave Me (Hanging on the Telephone) by Glitter_Bug - post s3 Billy/Steve where Billy is in the Upside Down

i hope this tides you over 😭😭😭😭

feel free to ask for more/ talk to me about them <3

[astralfandoms]

Father's Day Headcanons

we were thinking about the different managers/bosses and how they interact with their fathers so let's gooo

Duck Shuffler: Has no memory of what his father was like because orphan so is honestly just confused about the hype around it. Usually hangs out with Graham, Dave, and Flint during the day.

Prethinker: Has an awful relationship with his father so is extremely hostile/hates people who have a good relationship with theirs (ex. Cosmo, Cathal)

Derrick Man: Has a lukewarm relationship with his father so calls for formality's sake but doesn't do anything otherwise.

Rainmaker: Has a single mother whose father was never there so never celebrated

Deep Diver: Has two mothers so never celebrated Father's Day

Land Acquisition Architect: Has two fathers who he loves very much and they love him back lots so he goes to visit them every year.

Gatekeeper: Her father is on thin ice and will go dinner with him but will be in a bad mood for the rest of the day (usually solved with sparring)

Witch Hunter: Likes his father but never visits him due to his poor relationship with his mother so just handwrites and sends a card.

Public Relations Representative: Parents are long dead and doesn't talk about it unless pressed (usually in the form of riddles).

Bellringer: Laments the fact that he has a bad relationship with his father but tries not to be too bitter about others having a good relationship with theirs. Keyword: tries.

Multislacker: Usually spends half of the day with either dad before they have a family dinner together at the end of the day.

Senior Vice President: Is the father! Spoils his husband rotten in an effort to not think of his own father.

Mouthpiece: Spends the whole day with her husband and kids, spoiling her husband so that he doesn't have to do anything strenuous the whole day. Usually is too distracted by her kids and husband to think about her not-too-great father.

Major Player: Has a great relationship with his dad and usually has a family brunch with his father and then chills with Buck, Graham, and Flint for the rest of the day.

Chief Financial Officer - Buys things to cope with the fact that he hates his parents and his parents hate him the same.

Firestarter - Has a bad relationship with his father due to him being unaccepting of who Flint is. Usually spends the day with Graham, Buck, and Dave to keep his mind off of it, though.

Plutocrat: Usually is too busy to visit his fathers but usually calls and has gifts delivered to his parents' house because they have a pretty good relationship.

Chief Legal Officer: Has a cordial lunch with her father but otherwise doesn't do anything for Father's Day due to her uneasy relationship with him.

Treekiller: Has a great relationship with his parents and usually drags Chip to go see them (his parents also love Chip).

Chainsaw Consultant: Doesn't have a good relationship with his own father so usually goes to see Spruce's instead.

Chief Executive Officer: Drinking. Lots and lots of drinking to forget.

Featherbedder: Visits parents' and husband's graves with his children and grandkids. Otherwise just burns a candle in remembrance of them.

Pacesetter: Blocked his parents out of his memory so just doesn't have many feelings about his father. Tends to hang around Buck, Dave, and Flint during the day to help cheer Flint up.

[rhysintherain]

Types of outdoor survival guys:

Survivor Guy

"This is the way humans were MEANT to live!" (Absolutely Not)

Lives and dies by his bow drill firestarter

Do it alone to prove something (not sure what, but do your thing, buddy)

Ironically the type of guy most famous for... not actually surviving

Vision Quest Guy

The whitest kind of guy

"Something something the transcendent experience of communing with nature"

"An old Indigenous guide once told me [insert Billy Graham quote here]"

Won't stop climbing into caves

Some kind of fabric tied around his head

"Man the Hunter" Guy

Beautiful and inherently useless flint-knapped knives

"Primitive Skills" (I literally hate this term with every fibre of my being)

Caught a squirrel one time and now believes he can "live off the land"

Why are you not wearing a shirt? The woods are COLD, dude

Super Adventure Guy

"It's not actually that far down, maybe like 1500 feet?"

Has broken so, so many bones

Somehow the guy least likely to die or disappear before you hear about him

Seriously dude, how are you still alive??

Experimental Archaeology Guy

Just the most unhinged man you've ever met

Thinks hunting goats with a stone spear is a polite dinner conversation topic

Indiana Jones couldn't get ethics board authorisation but somehow this guy can??

Has 3 atlatls and knows how to use them

Boy Scout Guy

No fewer than 3 types of firestarter on him every time he leaves the house

Can make a shelter out of literally anything

Infodumps constantly. Dangerously close to mansplaining for most of it

Could give a lecture on field first aid with no prep at all

Passes out at the sight of his own blood

Weekend Warrior Guy

"I saw this on TV once!"

Has every single outdoor survival gadget

Backpack weighs more than he does

All his co-workers know exactly where he was and what he did there last vacation

Carries a machete for some reason

German Tourist Guy

"Just let me park here for a minute, I need a selfie with that bear."

"Something something conquering the forces of nature"

The most expensive hiking boots you've ever seen

You're more likely to spot this kind of guy in the Canadian Arctic than polar bears and caribou combined

Outdoorsy Chick Guy

20-minute monologue about the importance of teaching your daughters they can do anything a boy can

Pink camo

She's probably a bow hunter

Medicinal plant enthusiast (accuracy not guaranteed)

"Men are crybabies, this is So Easy!"

[sailtomarina]

Firestarter

Playlist, AO3 | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The moment she’d informed Rebecca about her dilemma, they’d gone through a whirlwind of activity. She really should put in a request to raise her assistant’s pay; the witch was formidable and they couldn’t afford for her to quit over something like too-low pay.

In almost no time at all, she had a handful of Beltane-appropriate robes with coordinating accessories from which to choose. Where the woman had obtained so many flattering options on such short notice, Hermione had no clue, but there wasn’t a bad one in the bunch.

She tried each of them on, knowing after many years with Lavender in her ear, that most of the time it was impossible to know whether or not you liked an outfit unless you put it on. Fabrics draped differently on the body than the hanger; there were curves to account for and movement to consider.

“Oh, Hermione. That’s the one.”

Looking up at the mirror, she couldn’t help spinning in a circle. Rebecca was right. This was, indeed, the one.

She could do this.

She could walk through those double doors.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione stepped forward.

She let the breath out in a long exhale once she realised that there was no spotlight at the doors, no stuffy butler announcing her entrance. Crowds milled about at the base of the staircase, yes, but they didn’t stare at her as she made her descent. 

Hermione felt silly for her nerves. This wasn’t some grand ball, no matter her dress or the setting, which was, as expected, phenomenal.

The Malfoys hadn’t spared a single expense in the decor. Every inch of the hall shone like it was cleaned that very day. It likely had been, given the number of house-elves in their employ. Greenery abounded, long vines draping from the high centre to the many sconces lining the walls. Many more hung downward, giving the effect of a living ceiling in some exotic dreamland. Even more astonishing was the way in which the plants glowed from within. They reminded Hermione of the glowbugs she’d seen in the caves of New Zealand. 

“Granger. I’m glad you could make it.”

She jumped at the unexpected nearness of his voice. She’d been so entranced with her surroundings that she failed to notice Malfoy’s approach.

He stood before her in dark green wizarding robes cut in a modern style that emphasised his broad shoulders and trim waist. She’d snort at the overt Slytherin-ness of it all, but then recalled that she, too, wore the colour.

“So am I, to be honest. My invitation arrived only this afternoon. Might you know anything about that?”

She couldn’t help the accusing tilt to her question; she blamed the irritating way in which he towered over her.

“Mmm, I might.” To her further irritation, his lips twitched, like he meant to laugh but thought better of it. “My compliments to your designer. You look a vision.”

He followed up on the unexpected comment with a deep bow and an outstretched hand.

“What are you doing? Why are you holding your hand out like you expect me to take it?” she asked, flabbergasted. Hermione looked around in confusion, wondering if she’d been tricked into attending a ball. To her relief, there were no dancing couples in sight, but they were starting to gather an audience.

It wasn’t everyday that the Malfoy heir bowed to a Muggleborn, especially one who advocated for creature rights like Hermione Granger.

“Malfoy!” She dropped her voice into a frantic whisper.

While he tilted his head far enough to peek up at her with a grin, he maintained his pose. “The only way I’ll stand up is if you take my hand, Granger. We both lack escorts for dinner, so might as well make the most of this fortuitous meeting.”

She could humiliate him by ignoring his hand, but doing so would also reflect poorly on her as a guest. Normally, Hermione wouldn’t care about such things…

Another glance around the room proved her suspicions right. There were multiple Wizengamot members in attendance, many of whom she desperately needed to sway towards her side if she wanted to continue her string of successes. She had plenty more goals to achieve, some far more ambitious than the current political climate would easily accept.

“Fine.”

His hand felt cool to the touch.

The moment she took it, he stood back upright and tucked her fingers into the crook of his arm. “See. Was that so hard?”

Come Monday, Hermione would have a specially-crafted hex just for him.

The crowds parted to allow them space to move forward. It was the host’s responsibility to lead the way into the dining hall, meaning that Hermione soon found herself right at the front just behind Lord and Lady Malfoy.

If they were surprised at her appearance, they didn’t show it. They simply nodded at her with polite smiles. Warmth filled their eyes as they turned towards their son.

“Draco, don’t forget,” Narcissa murmured.

“I won’t.”

They turned away without elaborating, and Hermione was left burning with curiosity. What did they want Malfoy to not forget? Surely, it couldn’t have anything to do with her.

Her questions quieted as a second set of doors opened, Malfoy’s arm tightening just slightly on her hand. It was the sort of action one gave in encouragement. A silent communication between friends, which they were not.

Still, she took courage from the motion and allowed herself to be led forward. The hall was filled with several round tables and one long one at the head of the room she assumed was meant for the hosts. She was proven correct when Malfoy guided her towards a chair near the front and gently let go of her.

“I must join my family, but, please, enjoy yourself. You should recognise quite a few faces.”

The words would have been comforting, if not for the smirk and wink that followed them.

She took the time alone to admire the centrepiece, which featured a branch with odd trailing blossoms that she did not know the name of as well as a white star and a blush pentagon which she did from her mountain hikes. Edelweiss, for courage. Laurel, for victory.

She did, indeed, recognise the faces that came to sit at her table. The prick had thrown her into a nest of snakes: Pansy Parkinson, correction, Pucey, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Gregory Goyle. They converged on her like a shiny new toy.

“Very, very sexy, Granger,” Theo said. The man hadn’t said two words to her when they were students; now here he was, all glittering eyes and mischievous grin. 

“He’s right. Let me guess, Patil and Brown?” This time it was Pansy eying her appreciatively.

They flanked her on both sides making it clear that Hermione had nowhere to run. She was so going to curse Malfoy the first chance she got. Monday was too far away for punishment.

“Let the witch breathe,” Blaise said with a laugh. “I’m guessing Draco didn’t warn her about us before disappearing.”

“You would be right,” Hermione replied with a shake of her head.

“Told you so.”

“Why’d Draco escort you?” Goyle’s question was blunt, so much so as to earn him looks from his own friends. “What? I know I wasn’t the only one confused.”

“You’re always confused, love.” Theo patted the hulking wizard on the shoulder in sympathy, and Hermione had to stifle a giggle.

“If he hadn’t, I would have,” Blaise said. She believed him, too.

As out of place as she felt, Hermione also felt their keen interest, not because she was some sort of curiosity to be poked and prodded, but because they were Draco’s closest friends and they cared about him.

“It was pure coincidence, really. We were just talking and, since neither of us have partners, he suggested we escort each other to dinner.”

“And to the fire lighting,” Pansy said.

Hermione gave the other woman a sharp look.

“You do know it’s customary to pair up for the lighting, don’t you?” Pansy continued slowly.

No. She had not known. Just like she hadn’t known about this entire event until that same evening.

So, she lied. “Of course.” 

Pansy’s brow arched in disbelief, but she didn’t argue, for which Hermione was grateful. 

The rest of the meal passed in relative peace as her new friends, if that’s what she could call them, carried the conversation with quips about each dish and stories that frequently revolved around Malfoy. 

She couldn’t help but laugh along with them, though the joy was tinged with regret. That they could have had this had they grown up a little differently. Friendships despite differences, or perhaps even because of them. This was the sort of future she wanted to encourage.

He found her just as the lights dimmed in warning.

“Enjoying ourselves, I hope?”

Warmed up as Hermione was on an unknown number of wine glasses and unexpected companionship, she didn’t hold back the full smile that stretched across her face with ease as she looked up into silver eyes.

The sounds around them fell away.

He stared back at her, lips curling up to mirror her own.

A hand, palm up, offered.

As she took it, the sounds of laughter and shuffling chairs returned. So, too, did his voice. Low and smoothe. Inviting.

“Have you ever lit a Beltane fire before, Granger?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

He twisted his hand, summoning a cut of edelweiss from the table arrangement. She would have applauded the wandless magic, but her words had disappeared somewhere inaccessible as she watched him, wide-eyed and waiting. He pushed back one of her wayward curls, pinning it in place with the edelweiss and a sticking charm.

“Only the best for she who will not be deterred,” he murmured.

Hermione’s heart stuttered in her chest. There was no way he could have used that combination of words by coincidence. What were the chances?

“Now, let’s go start a fire.”

The Prophet reports the Malfoy’s Beltane celebration as the event of the season, attended by none other than up-and-coming creature advocate, Hermione Jean Granger. Even more shocking was her choice of escort in the family heir, Draco Lucius Malfoy, who stood aside to allow the witch first rites at the traditional fire lighting. No other blaze in recent memory has burned as bright. We can rest assured that the following year will be fruitful, indeed.

Written for the @hp-flowers week 4 prompt: edelweiss, laurel

1749 WC

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3 (MarinaJune)

[hmshermitcraft]

This isn't for the theme; I remembered seeing something along the lines of 'corrupted hero being worse than the villain' and thought about it along the lines of Scarian.

Hotguy had been pillaging the city for years, using his charming looks and sharp aim to get riches.

The hero, Poultryman, had been trying to take him down, using his acrobatics and sharpened feathers to make lengthy traps that Hotguy just barely sidesteps, not without wounds.

They were the lonesome rivals, bitter to the core, trying to kill the other in a moments notice - at least, that was what it once was.

Slowly, ever so slowly, it seemed to shift: Restrained wrists being held just a little too long, looks that felt different yet undescribable, scratching insults becoming flirtatious banter.

One way or another, the two fell in love. They have their fights, obviously, but sometimes both seemed to slip away during a chase down an ally, the public oblivious to the two sharing a kiss in the darkened corners.

Then, the unthinkable happened; in an fiery trap, a malfunction happened, and the building exploded, taking both Hotguy and his rival with it. Everyone was in shock; the villain was defeated, but no hero would come to bathe in the glory.

Of course, it was a cover up. Scar just needed everyone to think that they were dead for some time to scheme a next heist.

And to get Grian some new clothing.

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

The month Cuteguy came to the city was one of carnage not even Hotguy saw coming. He wasn't one for bodily harm - he just didn't see the reason to kill when one could charm their way out for a much cleaner escape, but Cuteguy was a completely different beast.

He was stunned still, staring at the inferno that engulfed the streets infront of him, and at his bloodstained firestarter infront of the flames. Grian's face, one he saw often softened by love, was a mask of ferocity and madness, accompanied with a loud cackle roaring out of the too wide and too sharp grin splitting that mask. He was looking staring at Scar, a wild light dancing in his eyes; one brought about when the caged are given the keys to freedom for the first time.

And Scar didn't know whenever to join in with his pesky bird's feelings or be horrified at what he'd done.

~🪶

Grian had seen the way the heroes were changing. He was tired of it, he was tired of maintaining this image of being a perfect god. He couldn't be flawed, he couldn't make mistakes. Every single thing he did was monitored and monetised. None of these people cared about him. They just cared about the hero they created in their heads!

So when Scar gave him an out, he took it. Scar was sweet, underneath all the charm. He had flaws, and he didn't care about Grian's. He saw Grian, not just Poultry Man.

He's seeing Grian now. The flames are hot against his face as the heroes' headquarters burned. Not the public one, but the one they actually work out of. The scattered apartments and underground basements. That stupid front of a burger bar.

People would die. He didn't care.

He turns back to Scar, the amber flames complementing the Hot Guy costume well. He knows this isn't what Scar expected, but this is what he gets. This is Grian. And this is Cute Guy.

His maniacal laughter breaks down into tears as he falls to his knees. His tears do nothing against the raging fire.

Scar sits beside him, wrapping an arm around Grian's shoulders.

[rom-e-o]

People I want to get to know better!

Thank you so much for the tag, @geonn! Things like this are such fun~

Last song: "Christmas Bells" - RENT (the 2008 Broadway cast version - although the 1994 og also slaps). The whole song is glorious, but the vocals from 4:19 onward and all the scene-switching and harmonies from 5-6 different conversations in the alleyway makes it one of my favorite Christmas/Broadway numbers EVER.

And the carolers also play like ... five different roles EACH. And the set is stunning. This number is insane and overlooked.

("THAT'S MY COAT", "We give discounts~")

Favorite color: Oh my gosh, I can't choose! I love MOST colors. I'm really into blues right now, but my wardrobe is all black, honestly.

Currently watching: RENT, haha.

Last movie: "Firestarter". The one from the 80s. George C. Scott shows up (which I did NOT know) and is so delightfully TERRIFYING. He was also the best part of it, lmao.

Sweet/spicy/savory?: SAVORY, 1000%. I don't love sweet. Spicy is better.

Relationship status: Living single~

Current obsessions: "Scrooge (2022)" (I'm in so deep and never leaving, this film/world has my HEART) and "Dragon Age Veilguard" (I'm a huge DA fan, obsessed over DA2, then put 500 hours into Inquisition/Trespasser, and I'm, um, VERY excited to have a new game after 10 years. I'm really trying to be cool and casual about it, but it's not working and I'm sorry.)

My men right now: Ebenezer Scrooge (my man, my dear, my beloved) and Emmrich Volkarin from (checks script) "Scrooge (2022)" and "Dragon Age Veilguard". Both in the club of "distinguished men who stand very politely and sweetly."

“Look at them! So cute.”

Last thing you googled?: "wool coat loro piana' and "milanote" (which i'm obsessed with now for story planning and aesthetics!

Thank you for reading!

I'll taaaaag ... @quill-pen, @crimson-phantom-designs, @st0r-fruit, @thedivinelights (not mandatory, of course!)

[hellandheavens-fear]

Tip of the Day:

Yeah sure. Weapons active. [A rocket launcher and nailgun are pushed out both sides of the terminal.]

We have this thing called a firestarter. It shoots oil as well as rockets and makes the floor slippery and the people hit by it iridescent and slick. You can also light people on fire with it. The nailgun’s called the jumpstart. It shoots nails which can conduct electricity and also can fire a cable which electrocutes whatever it lands on. 35,000P for the jumpstart and 75,000P for the firestarter so 110,000P for both.

-@literally-every-single-terminal

"oooh.. yeah i'll take both of them."

the Angel picked both weapons up and equipped them into its arsenal, transferring the needed P into the Terminal. a sense of energy running through the former Machine that it never felt before, and it's eager to use it to get some Blood.

"hehehehaaahahahHAHAHAHAH—"

[saturnine-saturneight]

Unorthodox ship tag!

Thank you to @paeliae-occasionally for the tag! [here]

Rules: post five overly specific ship dynamics for characters in your story

I'm gonna take "relationship" to not mean a romantic relationship, but a character relationship / dynamic in general. Because there's not a single traditionally romantic couple in Twin Suns. x)

Some dynamics:

abrasive but sweet & charming but dangerous (ron & nat)

loud paper tiger vs quiet firestarter (teo vs haru)

jack russel energy & pitbull energy (ron & teo)

constantly in trouble & overprotective (ron & haru)

at the end of their rope & desperate opportunist (nat & louis)

tagging @fortunatetragedy @marlowethelibrarian @fairytaleinagem @rotting-moon-writes @cowboybrunch