#i much prefer his post movie design i just wish he kept the eyebrows

[lxikoniko]

I used to ignore people who complained about Jay's personality in post-movie Ninjago bc I thought they were being overdramatic... but the more I think about it I do kinda agree that they tuned him down a bit. He's still Jay its not like he's a completely different person, but I can agree he doesn't feel as energetic/chaotic as he used to.

He's got some banger moments post-movie, but I really do gotta wonder if his personality change was to combat people finding him annoying. Which is sad I find annoying Jay to be really endearing.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Penguin, James Penguin - Killian x Reader (Spies in Disguise)

Alternate Title: ‘I Wish I Was James Bond’

Holiday Fic 5! 🐧🐧

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

@xxstar-bluesxx​ - From one Killian Stan, to another 😉

Author’s Note: It is EXACTLY a year since I saw this movie for the first time. 

I had way too much fun writing these two again, safe to say I missed them a lot 🥰🥰

Not joking, this plot has been in my notes since January - and I was like “Well I missed my chance completely with the song and everything!” It’s too good not to pass up!!

Reader character from my SiD series/prequel? You betcha! 😉 But this time we’re writing for them post-movie!

Also playing into the rehabilitation program / Agent!McFord storyline here. So I hope, Killian Stans, that he’s been worth the wait to come back to you. And that I’m ticking a bunch of boxes. 

Note: Whilst the song itself certainly has a Christmas theme, the fic does not. At all.

Penguin, James Penguin - Brad Paisley

I Wish I Was James Bond - Scouting For Girls

Disclaimer: SiD & all associated characters not mine / basically taking the same idea as everyone else and slightly subverting expectations, because it wouldn’t be my fic if I didn’t / you don’t necessarily have to read ‘Mine’ to ‘Fresh Start Fever’ to understand this but it might help / lyrics & gifs not mine. 

Premise: In an attempt to figure out how Walters Bio-molecular tech works, Killian ends up getting it wrong with disastrous (hilarious) results...

Words: 6793

Warnings: Christmas themed lyrics/No Christmas themed fic / if you squint there’s some slight sexual banter at the end there / 

______

I've got another story That I bet you haven't heard Did you know that Santa Has a secret agent bird From an undisclosed location He's watching me and you He's got satellite uplinks in his cufflinks Yeah he sees everything you do He's Penguin, James Penguin That dapper little guy Like a well dressed duck in a three piece tux He's Santa's secret spy Not so very long ago Santa didn't need much help But with more and more kids every year He soon got overwhelmed He told the elves one Christmas We can't do this anymore Then a knight in shining polyester Waddled through his door And it was Penguin, James Penguin He was there to save the day He had wireless And GPS outfitted on the sleigh And Santa said Penguin Won't you be my ears and eyes How'd you like to help me run My SCFBI He's Penguin, James Penguin And now I guess you've heard How Santa got his little Christmas Secret Agent Bird

---

I've seen you walk the screen, it's you that I adore Since I was a boy I wanted to be like Roger Moore A girl in every port, and gadgets up my sleeve The world is not enough for the both of us it seems Hello Mr Bond, I've been expecting you Martini in your hand, and that eyebrow that you move Don't take this the wrong way, I know it might sound odd I'm the next double-0, I'm the right man for the job I wanted to be you, I wanted to be you I wanted to be someone else And I wish I was James Bond Just for the day Kissing all the girls, blow the bad guys away And I wish I was James Bond Just for the day Kissing all the girls, blow the bad guys away And I wish I was James Bond Just for the day Kissing all the girls, blow the bad guys away Roger and Sean and Timmy and George And Daniel and Pierce and maybe one day me

---

The light grey clouds rolled over the mountains on the horizon line. By the colour alone you suspected that you were due heavy snowfall. Up in a mountaintop hideaway you were growing used to such things... no bright blue sky today.

You folded your arms with a sigh; still, a little bit of sunshine would be nice.  

KiTT - your assistance drone - beeped every so often as he moved about the room, doing the odd task. Other than that, the house was silent, for now. Your eyes hovered on the helicopter outside and then back to the clouds; would there be a chance of getting out of here for the next few days? You knew cars would be out of the question, it was treacherous even in snow fairing vehicles... Note to self: Next time choose a boyfriend whose idea of a home is not a typical villain’s hide out. Although you supposed it fit his role in all this. At least to the Agency. Things had changed a lot since Killian had tried to take everyone out with his own drones, but they were still very wary of him. You found yourself tasked with keeping him straight - you weren’t sure they understood your relationship. But agreed anyway.

  Having finished his tasks and now bored, KiTT whirred his way back over to you, beeping his greeting. Blue lights flashing.  You shook your head at him, “What would you have me do? I’ve given you everything I had on my list, why don’t you ask him if he needs any help?” KiTT’s next series of bleeps had you laughing; “I’m sure he didn’t mean to kick you out like that. K just needs to concentrate. You can get pretty loud!”  Your drone protested, which only made you giggle. Especially as he tried to make the argument that he couldn’t possibly be any worse than the rest of them. 

KiTT had a point: the drones that the Agency had let you take back now helped both you and Killian with lab work - amongst other things – and, with your own expertise in AI, each now had their own distinctive personality just as KiTT did. Sometimes you regretted that decision. Although they couldn’t have been further from his blue and silver finish; in sleek black and red lights. Fitting for your significant other maybe, but it made little sense to you for the Agency to have given them such colours. (And if you were honest, KiTT looks a damn sight better, but you supposed there was a bit of favouritism in that comment.) “Oh, yeah. Cuz nothing says evil robot quite like red lights.” Killian couldn’t clap back at that, KiTT was exclusively blue. “I didn’t design it.” “I know. Which begs the question, why the Agency was building an assassination drone.” He folded his arms, “Well they don’t care, do they?” Protection by any means necessary. Stop the bad guys by any means necessary. “Well...” You raised your eyebrows and tipped your head in agreement. He’d know a lot about that alright... 

You found yourself looking back to the clouds and sighed, “You could always go check the weather for me if you’re really that desperate. Or if you could figure out a really quick weather changing machine?” If you could count KiTT’s next sound as a scoff you would, before blue lights ran across his body to let you know he was contacting weather satellites for you.

 The sudden crash behind you snapped you both from caring about the weather. It was followed by a slightly smaller - but still loud – one, and then silence again. You immediately started towards the labs, “On second thought, sounds like I should have just asked you to go straight to him!” 

**

When you both got down there it was a little hard to tell what had happened. At first it looked like nothing too serious; work surfaces scattered with tools, screens full of science mechanics... until you spotted the broken glass beakers and liquid running across the surface of a worktop, dripping onto the floor. “K?!” He didn’t appear to be in here, and yet none of his drones were either, which made you think it also hadn’t been them to make this mess. Or they’d made themselves scarce. You turned the lights up a little further and kept walking, cautiously. Well - for one thing, the floor was now covered in broken glass and curious liquids… they should probably be tidied up at the very least. Good thing your drone was in a working mood. There was another sound from further in the lab that made you jump, and you turned towards it. KiTT made a sound of worry. “Hush, clear this away, I got it.” He beeped again, “I’ll be FINE. Cybernetic, remember!?” KiTT’s next beep caused you to glare at him, “Don’t use that tone with me-!” 

You made your way carefully over to the noise, stepping around the glass that had been spat all over the floor. You were sure it’d made its way to unknown reaches of the lab, and you should be careful where you were stepping. Sure, you wouldn’t bleed, but thanks to the upgrades it’d still hurt.  When you turned the corner, you came face to face with a huddled form. Your head tilted curiously; eyebrow raised. You recognised it alright: but it was more the mystery of how it got in here. It might well have been the source of the crash - after all, you wouldn’t think a penguin to be very careful in a lab. You were just thinking about how you were supposed to catch it and then tell your partner: “Well, a penguin got into the house, and then your lab somehow, and destroyed all your research. Sorry about that-!”, when it turned towards you and-

  “AGH-!!” This time you didn’t jump, although both of you were startled. Your eyes widened even further as you stared at him, on the verge of collapsing into laughter. “K?!” The laugh wavered in your voice and you tried to swallow it back, “What did you do?” Killian was very blunt about it; “Turned myself into a penguin, alright. Are you happy now?” “How?” - Trying not to laugh was having the opposite effect and he sighed. “Go on, laugh-!” You did, but still tried to make it muted, before taking a deep breath, “What the hell...? Did you try to copy Walter’s formula-!?” “Well, it didn’t work did it-!” “They are all pigeons; although this is appropriate for our living conditions.” You crouched beside him, “...I gotta say, it’s very cute.” “Shut up!” You knew, were he still human, he’d be red with both anger and embarrassment by now.  You reached out to delicately touch his feathers; it seemed, just like Sterling managed to retain the bow tie, Killian would retain the outlines of his suit. He swatted your hand away and hissed; “Stop it!” “Just take the antidote. I mean, it’s all over the desk, but I’m sure we can salvage some of it. I assume you are trying for a pigeon, right? Or maybe you aren’t; gotta say I prefer penguins.”  “Thanks.” He responded dryly.  You only grinned your ‘you’re welcome’ and then stood to walk back to his desk; even if KiTT had managed to clear everything by now, if Killian had all the data, creating another batch of antidote shouldn’t take too long, and you could enjoy him as a penguin for a few minutes... or hours... more. “No! Wait! Y/N!” He hissed again, flippers grabbing your leg. “What?” Killian gave you a look of significance. Your eyes narrowed; “You took it without making an antidote!?!” “I took it accidentally!! And I had an antidote, it just wasn’t perfected-! Now I’m stuck as a flightless bird-!” “Deadly in water though.” You mused, tilting your head – that was not well received. Killian grumbled, huffing something under his breath. “So, this isn’t Walter’s formula?” “No!” Although it didn’t look like he was prepared to admit it. And you weren’t sure exactly how he managed to take it ‘accidentally’. “I did it myself!” “Well, this part worked.” You continued walking though, which made him waddle after you as fast as he could, “WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?!” “Uhm, to get Walter. He’ll be able to fix this-!” “No!!” He got ahead of you and tried to push you backwards, you halted; you supposed you understood why he wouldn’t want to admit what he’d done. You thought Walter would actually love that Killian’s formula was at least correct, even if he couldn’t reverse it yet. “What are you going to do Killian? Perfect the antidote as a Penguin? Think about this-!” “I AM!” “Rationally.” You stooped again and gathered him in your arms, to which he squirmed until you set him on a clear desk. “He’s the only one who can help you.” “I can do this myself..!” “As a flightless bird?” He’d been the one to say it-! He sighed, but was still unwilling to concede. Folding his flippers across his chest and turning slightly away from you. You stroked a hand over his feathers again, and grumpy as he was, you felt Killian lean into your touch and smirked as you teased him. “We could be halfway to D.C. by now...” He turned to you, eyes narrowed, and pushed your fingers away again, gentler this time. “Fine. But not a word to anyone.” “I promise.” You placed your hand over your heart. “And don’t pick me up again. It’s embarrassing.” You raised an eyebrow, folding your own arms, “So... what are you going to do, waddle around after me?” “Yup.” Killian jumped down from the counter, sliding across the floor to the exit, passing KiTT who beeped curiously and looked to you. You gave a shrug and rolled your eyes. “You coming?” 

It didn’t take very long to gather all that you needed and throw yourselves into the helicopter. You thanked your lucky stars that he’d taught you how to fly this thing. Your eyes flicked back to those clouds, “KiTT what did the weather say?” He beeped the response; cold, very cold, chance of snow later but the clouds may have been long gone by then. What concerned you most was if the chopper would fly, he seemed to suggest you’d be fine. 

You took a deep breath and flicked all the switches to their correct positions before starting the ignition, blades whirring into life. Your penguin turned to you from his seat, where you’d firmly belted him in. “You sure you know what you’re doing!?! You have to get us all the way to Washington D.C.!” You glared at him, “You wanna try it in your current situation!? You taught me!!” Killian knew he had no choice but to concede. “Just be careful! Nothing reckless!” “Says the man that just turned himself into a Penguin-!” “It was accidental-!” His voice pitched. You placed your hands assuredly on the joystick and moved the helicopter steadily into the air and into higher altitudes. “Accidental my ass, how do you take something like that accidentally-!?” There was overwhelming silence and you knew you’d won again. But sighed, saying softer, “Look, it doesn’t matter...” You pulled out across the mountains and smiled at the blue sky out across your horizon line, the end of this grey was in sight-! “Walter will have you fixed into a sarcastic, Australian, pain-in-the-ass by the end of the day.” Even Killian couldn’t help but laugh at that.

How exactly did you end up in this mess? It’s probably best to go back to the beginning...

**

Shortly after the whole drone revenge plan had failed, you received an anonymous text telling you to bring a car to a building close to the Capitol Reflecting Pool and Washington Monument. It said nothing more than that, but it made you curious. Upon running it through KiTT and discovering it was from the Agency, your curiosity was only further piqued. And on the dot of the specified time, you were standing outside the building leaning against your car, shades on. To be honest you probably couldn’t have looked less inconspicuous, and you wondered if the Agency, in reality, were about to laugh at you for being so gullible and arrest you too. Well, you’d escaped from them before, and that was more than just a few upgrades ago.

 The doors of the building opposite slid open and your mouth was suddenly agape, you slid your shades slowly from your eyes, unable to hide your shock. Stepping into daylight - in a brand-new suit - was none other than Killian himself. 

His smile was gentle as he made his way down the steps to you, and your heart was hammering against your ribs. As Killian stopped in front of you, you couldn’t help yourself but throw your arms around him. “Am- am- am I here to pick you up!?” God I missed you, I missed you, I missed you… He chucked, returning your embrace, “I believe that’s the idea, yeah.” “They just let you go!?” Killian placed his right hand in his pocket and huffed, “Well. That’s not exactly it, I had to bargain my way out...” You surveyed him for a minute, all his cybernetics seemed intact; he didn’t look messed with. Running a full diagnostic would give you the whole picture, but you were puzzled. “What’s the price?” “Joining the good guys.” You pulled slightly back, “You’re working for the Agency!?” He gave a nod, “That’s the deal.” “Double cross all your acquaintances?” You smiled, leaning back against the car, “Does kinda sound like you... Oh. Wow. You’re an informant?”  “Not exactly.”  Your eyes widened further than you felt possible; “You’re an agent!?” “You got it.” But Killian’s smile slightly faded, “Y/N, I- I was only part of the bargain, though.” You understood him immediately, “Me? They want me.” “You’re an inspired scientist; your expertise in the fusion of human biology and robotics… not to mention AI- they can use that. It’s not really even me they want working with them, it’s you.” “You offered me up as a chip!?” You couldn’t help but be a little upset at him for that. “You’re the only chip I had to play!” Even by the desperate look on his face you shook your head, “No.” “I need you with me on this, you think I was gonna do it without you?” His hand reached for yours, and you didn’t pull away. “So, are we... a team?” “Well, about that—-” His eyes flicked over his shoulder and you both turned.

Standing in the doorway now - each with a wildly different expression on their face - were Walter, Lance and... you believed her name was Marcy. Your eyes flicked to his face and back to them. Walter was the only one that seemed to show any kind of joy; and he was ecstatic. You pushed back just about every swear word you could think of.  “You’re kidding me?”

**

He was not, in fact, kidding and after being hauled into a two-hour meeting - which you felt really explained nothing - you were essentially handed a file and an ultimatum.  Either you worked with them, or you were thrown in a maximum-security prison. You had to laugh, because you didn’t think this was exactly fair on you. And they had you between a rock and a hard place... Killian and you had always had the same vendetta against the Agency since Kyrgyzstan (maybe his a little more aggressive than yours), and you had a life outside all of this. You couldn’t afford not to take their offer. The Agency knew it.

That made you a lot less mad at him for signing you up, and you turned down the opportunity to vent to him on the drive back; “What do I call you now? Agent McFord!?” “Shut up!” The faint blush across his face made you smile and tease him again: “You do know all that James Bond stuff was a joke, right-!?”

It was one of your favourites. The two of you loved spy movies, unironically. And Killian really liked the classic Bond films, how any time he’d make himself a certain drink you’d come for him with the same joke: “Is that a martini!?” “Yes-??” He was always curious as to why that mattered, only for you to give a pointed smirk,  “Alright... James Bond!” And he laughed, hard. And you loved that sound, because it was such a rarity these days, “Surely in this situation Sterling is James Bond...?” Then you smirked again, and gave Killian your best flirty wink, “Not to me!” That seemed to always get you where you wanted. And wasn’t 007 known for his way with the ladies, after all?

Today in your car Killian did not raise to the bait, but you saw him shake his head as he stared out the window.  “So, are you going by Tristan or Killian…?” There was a little smile on his face as he continued to stare at the scenery, “I’ll leave that up to you…” Your sudden gasp had him looking back to you as something else gelled in your brain; “Wait does that mean I get to say I’m dating a secret agent!?” “Oh god.” His groan was quiet and you were already grinning, enjoying yourself even more. “You should never have agreed to this!” “Clearly.” “Wait—!” You turned to him in absolute joy, “Can you just put on a British accent for like five minutes-!?” “NO!” And you noticed how he managed to accent his Australian to new levels.  Clearly his childhood wish to be James Bond was getting fulfilled, but he wasn’t about to play into it for your whims...

You’d figure out how to break that will before long-!

**

It took Killian a little more time than he would have liked to convince you that his deal was a good one. You were basically flat out refusing to work for them, doing the bare minimum you possibly could get away with; it felt too much like coercion to you, and they must have known how much you stood to lose.

 His first track was to use Walter; with both similar approaches to science & technology and similar levels of enthusiasm for it, the work it would be possible for you to do together would be nothing short of incredible, and both of you knew it. You acknowledged Killian was right, but it wasn’t something you fell for. The files Killian gave you, the access to read about the technology... that interested you. The potential to further yourself in your own field, even if it had to be done with the Agency, was a good draw. But still not enough.

So Killian did the one thing he could, and played the last card he had left. Himself. Baiting you with his own fate. “If they say I’m not doing my job and throw me back where I came from, what then?” You hated him for it, hated even more that he had a point. Hated yourself for having to admit you couldn’t be without him. You’d almost gone stir crazy between his arrest and picking him up. You couldn’t stand to think of it being any longer than that.  Too much of a pain point, your one line. You’d both lost enough; you refused to let yourselves lose each other.

You did not become an agent though. Your role was strictly technology and it confined you to the labs. Which you had to be honest, you enjoyed. And because you had your own job – and were a name the industry knew well – you weren’t a full time Agency employee. Your research saved lives – was the reason you still had yours – the Agency couldn’t exactly stop you working on good conscience. Even better! The tension in the team didn’t really let up, but the combination of the four of you (and Marcy and co when necessary) worked well. You all got more done than any other team in the Agency. 

Still, the enjoyment of working alone, or with Walter, didn’t stop you from itching to get out there or complaining about it to Killian. “Oh. I see I’m not an agent.” “Less expendable than I.” “Out of me and you, how am I-” “You have a reputation beyond the Agency and they know it. You’re the poster child of cybernetics. They did it to save your brain; didn’t you tell me that yourself?” “You made this...” You indicated to the parts of your body that were, indeed, cybernetic. “Yes, I did.” He touched his forehead to yours, “but the top half of you is flesh and blood and I do not possess the brain you do. For now, you’re best staying in the lab.” Walter didn’t stay in the lab and it made you antsy; running around with Killian or getting to do stuff for him was half the fun.

And eventually you whined enough to get to accompany him on missions, even though you still didn’t get to be an agent.

You had a few style tips for your 007 too. In the same vein as Lance Sterling, Killian’s crisp new Agency suit was complete with bow tie and dazzlingly white shirt. You couldn’t help yourself, looking him over. Oh, sure, Killian looked great, but he didn’t look like him. As you strolled over, Killian stood still and as tall as possible: his obvious thought was that you we’re going to straighten his bow tie. Not a chance! Instead, you unfurled it and threw the fabric to one side, proceeding to undo one... two... you hovered over the third button. Killian placed his hand over yours, “Isn’t that enough?” He should have known that was a fatal mistake to say; “For me? No!” You took a step back with a smile, at the creased eyebrow and small frown look on his face, surveying your handy work: “Mmm. That’s more you. Agent McFord.” And so this was how he started to wear his suits, and before long that signature blue shirt found its way back into the mix, much to your delight.

It was on these missions together that you both became curious in Walter’s biomolecular tech. You from a purely scientific fascination. He had Sterling turning from man to pigeon left, right and centre. And the two of you had drones (now equipped with AI), but even you didn’t have anything like that. Clearly Killian’s interest had become a little more than just the spectacle and scientific theory though.

No, clearly he’d tried to replicate it for himself. And the result hasn’t exactly gone as planned. You supposed he wasn’t about to allow Lance to one up him for the rest of his Agency career - however long that lasted. And Killian wanted to get back on level footing without Walters help; he wanted to do it himself.

And it had worked, a very valiant attempt, but he hadn’t finished his antidote or had miscalculated somewhere... And that was how you had all ended up in a helicopter flying yourself to the Agency labs, with a penguin in the passenger seat.

Yet with what you’d seen working here, this just seemed like a typical day!

***

You landed to the best of your ability, ignoring his slight glare of annoyance at the small bump as you set the helicopter down. You would call that trip a success. You stared at the heavy doors in front of you and gathered your pass; you heard KiTT behind you and his metallic fussing as he switched himself into all the correct safety modes and access clearances for the Agency. That you had done yourself; you didn’t trust Killian with KiTT, did they really think they would get the go ahead to touch him? Turning to Killian you cleared your throat; “You gotta act like a penguin remember-! So don’t talk to me! Or do anything a penguin wouldn’t do!” “What wouldn’t a penguin do!?” You unclipped his seatbelt. Well, you supposed a researcher would know, or someone that worked with them closely in a zoo. But he couldn’t just guess the Agency’s experience. Then again, it wouldn’t surprise you if he knew everyone in it inside out by now. “Look, I don’t know. But don’t make me talk to you, I’m going to look like an insane person-!” Realising that you were both still talking to each other you shared the same ‘shut up!’ look before agreeing not to talk with a silent nod, and with both KiTT and penguin Killian trailing you, you headed across the helipad with your Agency pass. 

Here we go again...

God, you hated this building.  Most times you’d been out here it hadn’t been for any good reason - and you still didn’t feel particularly safe within it. And so many people… Even when you worked your legitimate job you usually worked alone - or with people you actually liked - you could talk to yourself or KiTT and run your mouth, or talk things through without anyone answering you.  Everyone at the Agency had an opinion. When it was just you and Walter it was okay, and Killian was right, you liked him. But sometimes other people got involved and it got messy. To the point where Walter would gingerly steer you from the room before you really went off at someone.

You keyed yourself in; immediately scanned by the Agency’s automatic sensors, the switch turned green and the door swung open for you. You hesitated for a moment and looked down to Killian. “I know you’re gonna hate this, but I’m going to have to carry you through security. I think that’s all there is for it.” You didn’t let him answer as you picked him up but, as before, Killian protested by squirming in your arms as you walked down the hall to the security area. “Geez, now I look like I’m smuggling in a penguin…”

You gained some funny looks for doing so, but you need only say the word research and they let you through with him. As you turned into the next corridor, through the next security door and it all looked empty, Killian nipped at your fingers; “OW! Okay… Geez-!” You put him back on the ground, only for him to shake out his ruffled feathers with a ‘humph!’ The corridors remained silent as you took the long way down to the research centre. And Killian switched from waddling to sliding around on his stomach. You watched with curiosity; you supposed that was faster for him than trying to keep up with you. You turned to KiTT with a raised eyebrow, only to see him also focused with puzzlement on the penguin. Knowing you weren’t about to get anything sensible out of your drone, you spoke once again to your boyfriend: “Is that easier to move, or is it just fun?” Killian barely glanced up at you, but you knew the look he was giving: ‘you’re the one that said don’t talk!’ He was right, but this corridor was empty, the last 10 corridors had been empty! “Geez you can just nod.” You were met with nearly exactly the same look, before he paused, nodded, and carried on his sliding.   “It’s fun? You are too cute.”

It took you until the next door for him to stand up and retaliate, but when Killian did, he smacked your leg as best he could with his flipper; you could only laugh.

***

You wandered cautiously through the laboratory and he stayed close; perhaps you should have checked that Walter was actually in today. You could already hear the stirring of whispers, and KiTT beeped in acknowledgement. You glanced to him, “Tell them to shut the hell up then!” His beep was a little louder in annoyance, and you rolled your eyes, but he began flying ominously over the heads of the other scientists and chatter stopped, work resumed. You smiled to yourself; everyone was scared of KiTT because of what they knew Killian’s drones had been capable of. KiTT was harmless, and had no weaponry, but they didn’t need to know that. You quite enjoyed how scared they got sometimes. Served them right for the majority of it. You were a little overcome with joy to see that Walter was indeed in his lab, and even more happy to see that Lance was nowhere to be found. You gave him a wave as you knocked on his door and received a big smile back. “Y/N! I didn’t know you were coming in today!” “Unplanned, I do confess. But it’s good to see you Walter!” “Well, it’s lovely to see you too! You working?” “Actually I came to ask a favour…” “Oh!” He straightened in his chair as he swung it towards you, large blue eyes curious, “What is it?” “Your bio-molecular technology?” “Yes.” It was at this point he noticed the penguin, and you could see the million questions racing in his mind, so you opted to continue quick before he got a chance to ask them. “Is that just for Lance? Would it work on anyone? You must have the formula, right? Is there any chance I can take a look? Both for the transformation process and the antidote to it. I mean you guys are using it all the time.” “Uuuhhhh…” Now you’d given Walter a million questions, and his eyes kept flicking downwards to your companion. “Well, I…Yes, I guess I could…. show you how to… Do you want to do this with a penguin?” “Ignore the penguin.” 

Walter tried to keep his eyes on you, especially as the look you were giving him was serious, but eventually they trailed back to the bird at your feet. He studied it for a while and ignored you trying to protest him disregarding what you’d said. He leant forward on his chair, “Killian?” Instead of acting as he was supposed to, your partner became immediately angry. “Not a WORD to Sterling, or I SWEAR-!!” Instead, Walter lit up with a gasp, “You perfected your own formula!?! That’s so amazing—!! Colour me impressed-! Well, I could make what I made for him, so you can turn pretty much at will-!! Well-” He turned to you with a smile, “with some assistance of course-!” “A secret agent penguin!” The idea was funny to you, but at the same time you couldn’t help but love it. Killian immediately protested, “NO-! THATS STUPID, WE ARE NOT—!” You nudged him with your foot to shut him up, before continuing a sensible track of conversation, “First off, I suppose we should get the formula done. Then we can think about what we want to do with it afterward.” “All you need is the antidote right? I can get right on that… but, Killian, I’m going to need your help with what you did…” Walter spun back to the computer and began typing away, “Pull up a seat you two!” You dragged one across, and Killian scrambled up onto your lap; “I don’t have my formula, but KiTT could probably download it. He has a satellite uplink to the lab back home.” Walter nodded, “That’ll do, I’ll have to make sure the antidote coincides… I can’t promise this will be short though, you might be stuck like that for a few more hours.” “Hours!?” Killian sounded exasperated but turned to your assistance drone: “KiTT, see if you can link back to the lab and access file F-BMP5. Then send it across to Walter.” KiTT, glad of something to do, bleeped happily and set to work. “Sorry buddy.” Walter replied softly, “A penguin though, I’m impressed.” “Not entirely easy to find birds where we live.” This caused you to chime in, “Genuinely there are penguins up there?” “If you know where to look.” “Huh!” You smiled gently, “You’ll have to show me!”

Walter worked as quickly and carefully as possible, and as you suspected people were fascinated.  Everyone who passed couldn’t resist knocking on the door and asking what a penguin was doing here. Some even having the nerve to ask, ‘Is that penguin talking?’ By the time the last one had enquired you were up by the door: “NO!” and slamming it back in their face. Walter took precautions to lock you all in here and frost the glass for privacy after that. 

Killian remained in your lap, and you held him close, stroking your fingers through his feathers again, this time he didn’t seem to mind too much, and at times when you paused, he would nuzzle against your hands to get you to continue. Though you knew he would never admit it. As he continued working on the antidote, Walter again brought up the possibility of using this ultimate spy tech regularly. Killian didn’t seem keen, but you wondered if you could get him to warm to the idea… “I’m sure that we could find a little suit jacket for you in that form.” He glared back at you, “You’re enjoying this a little too much, aren’t you?” “A little, yeah!” You grinned in admittance, making him turn to Walter. “It’s a hard no from me.” “Aw, Killian, c’mon!” That only made Walter chuckle, “Let him get used to it Y/N, he’ll like it eventually, Lance did.” “You mean just leave him like this for a while?” Walter grinned, “Something like that!” Killian spluttered, stamping his foot against your leg; “YOU TWO PUT ME BACK RIGHT NOW!”

When Walter had the serum made up, he walked you both into another lab to perform the procedure. Killian let you carry him. “You can drink it if you want, but I’d like to run a few tests.” “Meaning what?” “I mean, if I put you under anaesthetic… I can check a few things.” “Is that usual?” “No but it’s your first time, and Lance’s wasn’t a pleasant experience I just want to make sure you’re okay, or Y/N will kill me.” Killian narrowed his eyes at both of you, standing there trying to look so innocent. “Fine. If I wake up and I’m not human again, I’m going to kill both of you.” Walter winced, however you only smirked; “Noted!”

***

When Killian awoke again, he was indeed human. But he was not in a lab in Washington D.C. instead he was in bed, back in the mountain top hideout. Had he really been out that long? Or was whatever drug used in the anaesthetic or antidote so strong he simply couldn’t remember anything else. He stretched, glad his head wasn’t spinning, and walked into the bathroom. Skimming his fingers up the side of his neck he pressed down on the projection switch. Killian checked this every morning as routine; that the system worked, that there were no problems with the metal, or his eye. This morning, nothing worked. He straightened up with a frown and tried again. Nothing. Killian rushed through the house; “Y/N! Y/N!” He sounded panicked, making you shake your head and call him through. “In the main room, babe.” He ran the rest of the way, “Y/N, my projection isn’t working!” You turned to him slowly, crooked, amused smile on your face; as if you were trying to hold back a laugh. “Are you sure? Why don’t you check again?” This time Killian was more careful, fingers sliding up his neck tentatively. He paused, realising that he couldn’t even feel the switch. It no longer existed. His eyes flew wide, voice quiet; “You- you- fixed it!” You grinned, smile slowly spreading across your face as you nodded, “Yes! So now you have a complete face!” He sprinted the rest of the way to you, grabbing you into a hug. You couldn’t help laughing, throwing your arms around him too as Killian buried his face in his shoulder, “You can cry now too! But please don’t! I would feel terrible!” “How-!?” “Turns out I can pick up a thing or two… Called in a few favours...” He pulled back and you framed his face with your hands, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks, “The Agency have better tech, but I never admitted that out loud. I’ve been wanting to do it for a little while but… Walter finally gave me the opportunity.” “...Thank you.” “Oh, don’t you start.” You indicated to yourself, “I have far more to thank you for.” You gestured to his robotic arm, “I thought… maybe I’d leave that. That was a feat of engineering y’know?” He laughed, “One thing at a time, huh?” “Yes!” You agreed with a nod.

Killian tugged away from you for a moment, and studied your clothes. He was in luck; they were the ones you had been wearing at the labs. Although, as he glanced to the colour of the sky perhaps it wasn’t the morning after all, perhaps it was later in the same day. It was snowing, though, so that weather prediction had been correct. Killian couldn’t be sure when it was exactly, but it was imperative you were wearing these clothes. “I just need to do something.” You were confused as he got closer to you. “What?” “Don’t get too excited.” He ran his hand down your body to the pocket of your jeans. “I mean, I can’t help get excited, you’re here and touching me.” “Stop it.” Although Killian smirked, slipping his hand into your pocket. You stilled, and your features pulled into a highly suggestive look as your eyes scanned his; “I mean, I have questions, Agent McFord.” He rolled his eyes at you as he fished a small disk drive out of your pocket. “…Wait!” You gasped, moment broken, “What the hell is that!? Where did you get that!?” You patted yourself down suddenly, “Killian-!” He closed his hand around it and beckoned you with him, turning to walk back to the labs, you hurried after him, “No one was paying much attention to the Penguin, were they!” “Wait! Seriously! What is that?” “Shush, you’ll see.” He plugged it into his computer and you waited patiently for it to boot up before you found yourself gasping again; “Is that… The Agency’s entire weapons tech!?” “Yup.” You whipped around to him, hands on his desk, “ARE YOU DOUBLE CROSSING THE AGENCY!” “Kinda.” His face was fairly nonchalant as his eyes held yours again. “Killian!” You couldn’t believe this was happening. After all that talk, and trying to persuade you into this. “After what they did...” He transposed the files, “are you really THAT surprised?” You folded your arms, hating that he had a point, “...Well no. But I... thought you might be a little more discreet.” “What they don’t know won’t hurt them - besides a few months ago you were telling me I was double crossing all the people I worked with, so is it double crossing a double cross or is it simply that I’m an effective double agent?” “... That’s a lot of doubles.” “Mm.” “I figure that’s not what the programme and agreement of your release was for. K, if they find out…” He tipped his head, eyes very nearly pleading with you. “I’m not covering for you!” “Accomplice?” “Not in your wildest dreams!” You were grinning - but maybe grimacing, because you thought perhaps you’d get caught up in this too, being part of his damn agreement - and Killian already knew he’d got away with it. You were going to be there for him no matter what he did and no matter what happened, you’d made that promise too long ago and you’d never break it. Not after what you’d been through together. You folded your arms again, “I won’t rat on one condition.” His eyes rolled, “What could that be?” “If you’ll agree to use Walter’s biomolecular tech, penguin yourself on missions in the same way Lance does his pigeon transformation.” Killian scoffed, “How?!” You were sure he wished he didn’t ask as you produced a collection of vials from a table across the lab. Killian’s face fell slightly. “You did not.” “Oh, we did!” “That’s most certainly punishment.” You indicated to the screen, “Someone brought this upon himself.”

There was silence, before he began chuckling, pulling you into his arms gently - and you were only too happy to accept his hug and a kiss to your forehead. “Geez. The things I do for you!” You moved to catch his lips delicately in ‘thanks’. Oh yeah, like you couldn’t say the same thing!

---

Thank you for reading the penultimate fic of the year! 😁

[sfb123]

TRR Book 3, Chapter 6: A Retelling

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Warnings: None, tame fluff piece. Some allusion to 🍋 but noting even remotely racy.

Word Count: 1,316

Author’s Note: This is my first story ever. I had an idea to take the spa scene from TRR3 and re-tell it from the perspective of Maxwell, Drake, and Hana after Liam and Riley sneak off for some alone time. I hope you all enjoy it. Shout out to @bebepac for looking it over for me and providing some super helpful feedback!!!

The Tag list is just my Taste of Cordonia tag list, plus a couple of sweethearts who have been so kind and encouraged me to write (and who talked me off a ledge last night when I was panicking about posting this). If you want to be added or removed for future fics, just let me know!

Tag List: @txemrn, @kingliam2019, @anjanettexcordonia, @texaskitten30, @twinkleallnight, @mile9213, @kittypryde-bipride, @motorcitymademadame, @kat-tia801, @bebepac

It was an emotional day at Applewood Manor, seeing the orchards completely destroyed was like a punch in the stomach to everyone. They were able to make it through the press conference and tree planting without issue. The mood quickly turned for the better once they invited little Jiro and Camellia to join them for a game of soccer in the Manor’s Courtyard. A game that proved to be exhausting and strenuous, which led Maxwell to suggest returning to the spa they had visited after the barn raising. A little relaxation was absolutely needed, and that was exactly what they were going to get, especially considering Madeline turned down the invitation Maxwell felt obligated to extend with her standing there as they made the plans.

Once they arrived, they split off into the designated changing areas, and met back up in the co-ed room. They each entered the pool and grabbed a glass of the complimentary cider that had been set out for them. The realization soon hit them, that the cider was likely made with apples from the now defunct orchard, which brought the mood down, once again. In the sake of keeping things light, they quickly changed the subject with a toast to the orchard, the Cordonian citizens, and “the best friends in the whole world,” which led Riley and Maxwell into one of their signature bits about how loveable they were. Once the toast was completed, Liam effortlessly slid beside Riley. The two of them started whispering and making those eyes at each other. Soon after that, they climbed out of the pool and started heading out the door.

Maxwell caught them exiting out of the corner of his eye, “Hey, where are those two going?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Drake replied, as he finished off his glass of sparkling cider.

“But this is supposed to be friend time. No cliques!” Maxwell protested. He loved having this tight group of friends, and he knew once Riley and Liam got married, moments like this would be few and far between. Riley would be thrust into the role of Queen, which would give his best friend much less time for movie nights and karaoke parties. He thought the Unity Tour would give them one last hurrah as a group. That wasn’t going to happen if Liam and Riley kept sneaking away.

“Maxwell,” Hana turned to face him “They’re both going through a lot right now. I’m sure they just need a moment.” She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“As much as all of this sucks for us, think of how it is for them. We all saw first hand how hard they had to fight to be together, the hell they both went through. They finally get that, and announce their engagement, and it gets overshadowed by these attacks.” Drake explains, matter of factly.

“On top of that, Liam hasn’t been King for that long, I can imagine he’s taking these attacks very personally, and doubting himself as a ruler.” Hana added.

“Exactly. Liam’s pretty comfortable turning off that King stuff with us, and just being himself. But since the attacks, I can see that the wall isn’t fully coming down. If anyone can change that, it’s Brooks. He needs this, they both do.”

“Yea, I guess you’re right. More pool space for the rest of us!” Maxwell hopped out of the pool and slowly backed up, a grin spreading across his face.

“Beaumont, don’t you--” before Drake could finish his warning, Maxwell charged full speed toward the pool.

“CANNONBALL!!!” Maxwell hugged his knees in and flew through the air. The water displaced and the huge splash completely drenched Drake and Hana.

Drake grimaced as he pushed the wet hair out of his face, Hana laughed and applauded Maxwell's less than graceful, dive. The three friends sat in the pool area a bit longer, joking and chatting and reminiscing about the good times they had all shared since Liam’s social season. Drake glanced up at the clock and realized how late it was getting.

“We should probably head out. They’re going to be closing soon.” Drake stepped out of the pool they had been relaxing in, and grabbed a towel. Maxwell and Hana agreed, drying themselves off and heading back towards the changing rooms.

As they walked down the hall, Hana asked “What about Riley and Liam? We don’t know where they went.”

Maxwell heard some muffled noises coming from one of the saunas, he slowed down and pressed his ear to the door. He paused, his eyes went wide and his face started to turn red.

“What happened, Maxwell? What’s going on?” Drake looked concerned, and sped up his pace to meet him at the door.

“I...uh...I think I found them.” Maxwell started to giggle.

As Drake’s ear hits the door, it is met with a deep groan from the other side. “Yup, that’s them alright.” He shook his head as he stepped away and continued walking.

Maxwell knocks on the door “Hey, get a room, you two!”

He and Hana giggled as they went on their way.

A few minutes later, Liam joined Drake and Maxwell in the men’s changing area. “Well, I’m feeling relaxed.”

“I’ll bet you are.” Drake replied, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

“Yes, sorry about that, we seem to have gotten a bit carried away.” Liam replied sheepishly.

“Meh, it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve heard that. You guys get carried away a lot.” Drake shrugged.

Liam looked up at his friends with an expression of shock and confusion.

“Yea, we went camping with you guys in France, remember?” Maxwell said, nudging Liam with his elbow.

“...and you assigned me to the room next to Brooks when we were in Applewood for your engagement tour.” Drake added.

“Ok, ok, so we haven’t been quite as discreet as we thought we were. You’ve made that point very clear. Thank you.” Liam’s face was bright red, as he turned to his locker and took his clothes out to change.

Maxwell and Drake continued to give him a hard time as they finished getting their things together, and soon they headed out of the changing area to meet up with Riley and Hana, who were already in the lobby waiting for them. As soon as Riley saw the three men walking towards them her cheeks turned pink and her eyes fell to the floor.

“Brooks.” Drake nodded.

“Blossom,” Maxwell winked and nudged Riley’s shoulder.

“Hey guys.” Riley mumbled, barely above a whisper, clasping her hands behind her back.

Hana followed Drake and Maxwell to the door, Liam stepped up to Riley and put his arm around her shoulders, as they started to walk towards the exit.

“Are you alright, love?” Liam inquired, rubbing his hand up and down her arm to soothe her.

“Liam, they HEARD us. It’s so embarrassing!” she looked up at him, and the horror in her eyes made Liam chuckle.

“I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse, but apparently, this wasn’t the first time.” He pulled her closer.

“I know! Hana said that every time we go missing the guys place bets on which one of us comes back more disheveled. And by the way...worse, it definitely makes me feel worse.” Riley grumbled with a deep sigh.

“Would you like to stop sneaking away from events? It’s certainly not my preferred solution, but I will do whatever makes you happy.” He stopped walking and turned to face her.

“No! Of course not! Sneaking away is my favorite part of events! Maybe we could just try to put a little more emphasis on the sneaking part.” Riley suggested with a shy smile.

“As you wish, my Queen.” Liam kissed her forehead, and took her hand in his before continuing out the door.

[captainchrisfics]

Out of Fenway Park

About: A SoCal born-and-raised reader relocated to Boston, where the very last thing she expects is to run into Chris Evans at a Red Sox game with beer dripping down her head and his hotdog plastered to her shirt. Literally, running into him, and then somehow still getting a date out of it.

Word Count: 3,365

Requested By: Anon. Thanks so much for sending this in! Absolutely love this story, thanks for giving me the opportunity to write it. Feel free to send in any other reqs!

P.S. I’m sorry but, as deeply as I love Boston, I’m just a New Yorker, posting a fanfic on the internet, asking you to forgive me for my inability to give the Red Sox the dignity of winning- feat. the best gif I could find of him repping the team

The sun was the only reason I agreed to go to this baseball game anyway and even that had failed me. I was looking forward to sitting back with its warmth washing over my skin so I could close my eyes and try to pretend like I was back on a beach in Southern California. Instead, it was borderline freezing rain and all I could think about was the ground being even muddier with the still melting snow and how I couldn’t tell if there really was rumbling thunder or if it was just the shouts of countless Bostonians surrounding me, cheering on the Red Sox. They were up against the Yankees and even I could tell it wasn’t looking good, but that didn’t dampen their home-team spirits.

My coworkers were maybe the worst of the bunch, drunkenly yelling profanities at the players while they sloshed their beers in agreement with one another’s profane criticisms of the pitcher. I was almost regretting giving up SoCal for a job offer I could hardly dream of fresh out of college with the only downside being that it was on the east coast. Anyone could’ve told you I despised the cold, being too far from the ocean, and the Patriots, maybe not in that order. But even more than that I knew I’d hate myself if I passed up this opportunity. So, without giving more thought than I maybe should’ve, I packed everything I could into three suitcases and a carry-on and moved across the country, hopes probably higher than the plane. 

Winter, however, brought me crashing back down to reality. Everything in nature either died or got the right idea to chase the sun south. I was stuck with snowbanks higher than my knees and a proper coat was nowhere in sight. Not that it mattered much anyway, the weather felt like it was freezing my bones to their core no matter what I wore. Initially, I had this glamorous idea of curling up by the window with a blanket on my lap as the fire crackled, holding a book in one hand and a hot chocolate in the other. Hitting the pavement after slipping on ice knocked the ignorantly blissful can-do attitude right out of me the first time. And the second and the third and I lost count after that.

Which is exactly why I agreed to come to this baseball game in the first place. Back home, spring meant warmer days and blooming flowers and short sleeve t-shirts. I thought I’d get to enjoy a little bit of sunlight at the very least, maybe get to finally connect with my coworkers in a meaningful way outside of asking for help to unjam the copy machine. However, the start of the season in this hell hole apparently included a lot more of the lion than the lamb and a rowdy crowd of Red Sox fans who thought it was good enough for shorts anyway and drank like alcoholic fish to top it all off.

A girl I shared the wall of my cubicle with, Alex, wrapped a lazy arm around my shoulders, pulling me too close into her Heineken haze than I was comfortable given the fact that I barely knew her. Plus, being the only sober one was never any fun. I had a feeling they only invited me under the guise of getting to know each other better considering all I’d become familiar with was the smell of their beer burps. After all, being barely of-age and the new kid made me their permanently designated driver, even though we’d taken the T here. 

“Know the difference between a Yankee and uh,” Alex paused to laugh at her own joke and let out a hiccup, “a pothole?” She was hanging onto me for support, speaking close enough to my ear that it could’ve been a secret though she was saying it loud enough for the rest of our group to hear over the boom of other fans. “I’d swerve for the hole!” 

I chuckled a little to be nice, although I didn’t think it was very funny. Our coworkers to Alex’s right, on the other hand, guffawed as if it was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard. Preferring their reaction and acting almost in slow motion, she raised her cup in cheers of herself and simultaneously turned to the others, sloshing the frothy drink until it rained down on me.

I shot up out of my seat as the cold beer trickled down my back. Everyone paused, eyes glued to me for my reaction as I tried to maintain my temper. I used my hands like windshield wipers, tossing the liquid on my face to the floor with an angry snap of my wrists. Alex started to profess a slurred apology, but I held up my hand for an extra second or two to compose myself. “It’s...” I paused to suck in another deep breath. “It’s okay. Accidents happen. I’m gonna go clean up.” Before she could offer to help, I whipped around and jumped down the stadium’s stairs two at a time.

My cheeks were hot with embarrassment as I scanned the hall, looking for something resembling a bathroom sign frantically. People were probably busy enough with their own agendas, be it getting back to the game or buying a baseball hat, but I still felt every set of eyes boring into me. So I tried to put my head down and run to the closest restroom until I hit a wall instead. 

Literally, it sent me tumbling to the floor until I landed on my ass, melting into a messy puddle of beer mixed with my former self. Contrary to my belief, someone said, “I didn’t see you there.”

My eyes left my hands, where I’d tried to bury my face like an ostrich in the sand, to see a broad man bending down on his knees before me. He had a Red Sox cap pulled low over his face, a thick beard, and a light grey t-shirt with a dark wet patch in the middle of his chest. Must’ve been where we collided. “I’m so sorry,” he continued with the exaggerated o’s and r’s that sound like ah’s, still so wrong to my west coast ears. I spotted an empty disposable food tray in his hand and looked down to see the hotdog it’d previously housed glued to my stomach by its condiments. Exactly what I needed. 

“Are you alright?” He extended a hand to help me up, but I couldn’t move. Instead, I just sat sprawled on my butt at Fenway Park, reeking of somebody else’s alcohol, staring at this beautiful stranger. His concerned look turned a little suspicious the longer I sat there without grabbing his hand, my mouth moving like a fish out of water. All I had to say was yes or I am or something, anything really, but I couldn’t even manage a three-letter sentence.

Instead, I peeled his hotdog off of my shirt and returned it to its little white boat. “Oh, uh, thanks I guess. Or sorry, I mean.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat before extending his hand again. “Is there anything I could do to… help?” His eyes scanned me again as if he were sizing me up, making me even more self-aware of the awful state I was in. 

“Bathroom,” I blurted out as my mind caught up, barely able to rip my eyes from his biceps. He stitched his eyebrows together, back to confusion again, though I didn’t give him any time to ask questions before I all but snatched his hand and he hoisted me up. 

“Nice to meet you, Bathroom. I’m Chris,” he said with a smirk, teasingly shaking my hand. “You didn’t hit your head, right?” He tried to subdue a laugh, but the playful look in his deep blue eyes betrayed him as he reached to brush off my shoulder.

“Very funny,” I shot back with an exaggerated roll of my eyes, betting my smile gave me away. “As in Evans, right? You look too much alike for it to be a coincidence.”

He played with the sunglasses tucked into his shirt’s collar, probably wishing he’d kept them on for the sake of a disguise. Chris only shrugged, claiming he would neither confirm nor deny. I didn’t need him to though, I’d been stuck watching Marvel movies with my brothers long enough to recognize those cheekbones anywhere. “I’m more of an Iron Man fan anyway,” I tried to emphasize my nonchalance in the hopes that I wouldn’t scare him off. “What I meant was I need help finding the bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah. Just passed one over there I think…” Chris trailed off as his eyes swept over the stadium, looking with much more of a level-head than I could. He found one almost immediately and laced his fingers between mine so it was more like we were holding hands. In a silly school-girl kind of way it made my cheeks flush, which was awfully embarrassing that, given my condition, holding hands with a cute boy was what had turned me into a tomato. Then he tugged me in the direction he came from and I wasn’t in the position to protest.

There was only so much I could do with thin paper towels, lukewarm water, empty soap dispensers, and a tide stick from a kind woman who took pity on me. Still, I spent a while scrubbing at the mustard and ketchup stains and wringing my stringy hair over the sink. It was long enough that I was more than surprised to see Chris leaning against the wall coolly. One foot was pressed against the wall and his arms were crossed over his chest while he whistled a tune.

“Is that The Little Mermaid?” I asked with a wrinkled nose, sounding more dumbfounded to hear this burly, bearded, lumberjack-looking man all but belting out Under the Sea than I was to see he’d been waiting for me.

Chris only shrugged, a crooked grin softening his features. 

“Is that a problem?” He cocked an eyebrow and flexed his arms as he crossed them as if to challenge me. But there was this twinkle in his eye that betrayed his demeanor so all I did was shake my head. I tucked some hair behind my ear as I glanced back at Chris, who looked far too satisfied with himself as he said, “Good thing since I owe you some ice cream.”

Chris started walking away, taking quick steps so long I had to take two for each of his to keep up. I called his name but he ignored me until I grabbed his hand to get his attention, which it certainly did as he squeaked to a halt. He squeezed mine before letting it go, looking at me curiously. 

I wasn’t quite sure exactly what I was going to say until it was already tumbling out of my mouth. “If anything I owe you a hotdog,” I muttered, avoiding his stare. Not that I was uncomfortable waltzing off with a stranger in the limelight, which I totally was. Not that my coworkers were waiting for me and would never believe I’d been getting ice cream with Chris Evans, which was also true. Not any of the totally valid reasons to feel a little funny about this whole thing. Instead, I insisted on buying a hotdog for a guy I was sure had more cash sitting in his bank account than I’d ever see. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, my lunch had it coming,” Chris insisted with a swipe of his hand, playfully brushing me off. “Your shirt, however, did not deserve that stain.” His pointed finger dropped to the orangey Rorschach test permanently painted just below my chest, getting a laugh from me. 

“Here,” Chris said as he untied the hoodie around his waist. I tried to keep my eyes from wandering to his stomach, where his shirt lifted a little higher than it should’ve been allowed, revealing the curve of his chiseled hips and the beginnings of a fuzzy trail dipping below his belt. “Take this to cover that up.” He handed me his sweater covered in pet hair and I slipped it on immediately, hoping it would hide my wild blush for a few seconds at least until I popped out the other side. It smelled like a dog had been curled up to it coupled with an intoxicating cologne I didn’t recognize and crisp air right before it rained.

I thanked him but Chris shrugged and puffed out his bottom lip before resuming his long strides to the concession stand, tugging me behind like luggage. “Plus, the game is already over. I don’t have to watch my boys actually lose. Maybe if you’d been a Yankees fan, I could’ve excused the whole sweeping you off your feet thing... but come to think of it you aren’t repping the Red Sox either.” He side-eyed me suspiciously without pausing until he nearly hit someone else’s back. 

“That’s an awfully nice way to put sending me tumbling to the concrete,” I scoffed, skidding to a stop at Chris’s side in line. “And sports culture is just misplaced nationalism if you ask me.” I crossed my arms to emphasize my point when I was met with raised eyebrows and a slack jaw. 

“Then what are you doing here exactly?” He asked, keeping one eyebrow perched a little higher than the other. There was something about the way he smiled at me, all genuine and gentle, and this look in his wide eyes. Whatever it was, I felt like I could tell him everything. So I did.

“All I wanted to do was sit in the sun,” I started, completely aware of how much I sounded like a toddler who missed her nap as I launched off into everything as if he’d been the one pulling up to watch my origin story with popcorn in hand. I told him about how much I missed California and how I felt like I hadn’t met anyone here who got me the way my friends did back home. And how much I loved the work I was doing, the way the end of every day left me feeling complete until I left the office, and how I didn’t think I could survive another Nor’easter for it. I spilled my guts along with the can of worms Chris didn’t mean to open as the concession line grew shorter until we were at the front. 

He ordered chocolate and vanilla cones, giving me the choice between the two once they were handed over so I thanked him.  We walked around the stadium for a while, bumping hips on occasion and crunching on our cones while we chatted about anything and everything except what I’d said earlier. That was until Chris suddenly stopped to sit on a bench, grabbing my hand to take me down with him. He cleared his throat before speaking with more of a serious air to him so I knew to brace myself for what was coming. 

“You’re young, yeah?” he asked, shoving his napkins into a nearby bin. I nodded as I sucked what I could out of the bottom of my cone, though I felt like I’d done a lot of growing up lately. “You’ve got a lot of time to figure these things out. Trust me, I know California is nice, but there’s a reason why I keep coming back to Boston.”

I thought about what he’d said for a beat or two, but I’ll be honest, it was difficult sitting next to him. It was awfully cold with the sun tucked far behind the clouds all day so I was grateful that Chris was so warm. Even his hoodie retained his heat, although I still curled up a little deeper into his side than I might’ve if he wasn’t a human radiator. “Mind telling me why?” I asked, popping the last of my ice cream into my mouth.

He shook his head as he said, “Sure, oh man. So many reasons…” I watched as his blue eyes rose as if he could see the sky through the stadium ceiling, the corner of his jaw flexing as it clenched and relaxed as he thought about it. “Other than my family being in Mass, there’s always something to do. We’ve got the best museums and such a rich history, if that’s your sort of thing,” he paused to scratch his beard as he thought a little more. 

His blue eyes nearly popped out of his head as another thing occurred to him. “The culture is something else. There’s something really special about a middle finger being a sign of affection to some poor sap giving tours in colonial clothing and everyone joining in to sing Sweet Caroline on the T on the way home from a game,” Chris continued with animated, sweeping waves of his arms, talking with a kind of passion for a town I couldn’t imagine having in my heart. He shook his head as he added, “And the food is great, too. I mean, where else do they have a whole word for cod that isn’t really cod?”

I laughed from the bottom of my stomach, where I expected a heavy pit of anxiety to be sitting at the beginning of a conversation like this. My homesickness and unhappiness here wasn’t something that I told anyone before out of fear of disappointing someone or being unable to admit my failure out loud. Chris was easy to talk to, more than a stranger usually was. Their judgment never really mattered to me, knowing that I’d probably never see them again. It wasn’t like that with him though, it was easier than that. I felt like he didn’t really judge me at all. He only tried to understand, help, and make me smile while he was at it. And I couldn’t deny a part of my heart that hoped I’d see Chris again. Not only again, but a lot.

“The people aren’t too bad either,” he smiled sheepishly, bumping our shoulders together and looking at me through his dark eyelashes in a way that made me feel like the only person here. As if I was the only one he was talking about. Chris took a deep breath that puffed up his chest, one he didn’t release until after his arm was comfortably slung over my shoulders. “Just give the city a shot, I think it’ll surprise you.”

I wanted to tell him it already had, really he had, but instead, I laughed dryly and said, “Hell, this city makes me feel like I need a shot.” I leaned my head on Chris’s shoulder as it shook with his chuckle, looking up at him to see how he rolled his eyes even though they were scrunched by his smile. 

“Know what?” he said like he was asking himself with a deep, shaky breath. He shot up from the bench as if he’d been shocked. I obviously didn’t know Chris well, but even I could tell he was nervous as he rubbed his palms dry on his jeans. “Let’s go get a drink then, instill a little Boston pride in you. There’s this great pub down a couple blocks with live music and everything. I mean, if you want to…?” He scratched the back of his head with one hand and extended the other to me with his offer. 

When I grabbed it, Chris broke out into a grin that made my stomach feel like I was on a rollercoaster. “I’d love to,” I said with a smile that barely held a flame to his. Neither of us made an effort to let go so Chris tugged me toward Fenway’s exit. As we left, I heard tens of thousands of Red Sox fans sigh like deflated balloons before the screams of just as many obscenities broke out. Probably another point for their opponents, but it certainly didn’t make me feel like I’d hit anything short of a home run.

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[aileen-hollingsworth]

Practice Challenge #1

A I L E E N   H O L L I N G S W O R T H   M O O D B O A R D + practice challenge #1

A/N: Late I know, but I wanted to post this practice challenge anyway. It ain’t my best work but bare with me. Forgive any typos. It’s around 2500 words. 

“He’s dangerous.” Dylan mumbled and I sighed dramatically as I eyed the script in my hand once more.

“You have no proof of that. You simply don’t want to trust him.”

Dylan shook his head. “Because we know nothing about him…and I seem to be the only one of us who remembers how dangerous it is to trust anyone right now.”

I crossed my arms and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You seem to be forgetting the fact that he has agreed to help us and his abilities could be useful.”

“Can he really help us though? Because that’s what we thought about Byron and we both know how that turned out.”

“That was-”

“Different? Please do tell me how. Oh wait, I remember: Byron was one of your friends and you actually had legitimate reasons to trust him, unlike with this stranger.” He glared down at me.

“So what?!” I yelled, trying to sound desperate. “Are you simply going to stop trusting everyone? Sooner or later we’re going to have to take the risk of trusting someone Alden. If we don’t do it we will get killed. You want to take back your throne and save your people, don’t you? Last time I checked you can’t do that if you’re dead.”

Dylan kept on staring me down, but his face softened after a few seconds and then he looked the other way, his features shadowed as if in deep thought. As good an actor as ever, I smiled. That’s why my parents liked working with him so much. That and the fact that they were the first to cast him all those years ago when he was around my age. That was his first movie ever and it was what launched him into stardom. After that my parents could never avoid feeling proud of him. It was like every one of his achievements was an achievement for them as well, and with Dylan constantly mentioning them as an important part of his every success… it almost felt like they were his second parents. They probably were since they had always been there for him unlike his father who was always too busy worrying about himself and his ever-changing girlfriends.

If I was being honest, even though I didn’t see Dylan every day of my life, he was also like family to me. Like my parents, I’d known him since they worked on his first film when I was barely eight. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t felt proud of every time I saw him acting on the big screen.

I lowered my eyes to read what happened next on the script. After my last line Tony’s character, Noah, was supposed to enter the scene bearing bad news.

“Very nice.” I mumbled, punching Dylan’s arm.

He looked down at me again, but this time instead of having a troubled face he was beaming with a smile, dimples forming on his mahogany skin. “Not too bad yourself. I can see some of your mother’s talent in there.”

I rolled my eyes. He’d been mentioning that a lot before I left Angeles a little over a year ago, but after not seeing him for so long I’d almost forgotten about it. “Yeah, so you’ve said.”

“Yet you don’t believe it.” He said staring at the set that was almost ready for him.

I shrugged. “It’s not about believing it, there’s just not much point in thinking about it. After my parents’ marriage being an actress was pretty much erased from my list of possible careers. Of course I’m not complaining, my existence is based on that decision.” I grinned, offering him his script back. He took it with a laugh.

“You could still buy your way up. I’m sure your parents would be willing to do so if you asked. Even your uncle would probably want to help.”

He was right. I could. I was just one caste away from being a Two and my mother’s family were all still Twos. My uncle admitted no one had been very happy with her decision to marry my father, but when they realized he was going to be successful and that he could still give her a good life were she would be happy, they slowly accepted it. Now none of them cared about what caste she was in…well except grandpa, he wasn’t really a fan of dad. Holiday’s were always interesting with him around.

Sometimes when I was younger, I asked mom if she missed being a Two. She always replied with a smile, saying she didn’t. She said she had everything she ever wanted. She had my dad, me, and she could be a writer like she’d always wished to try. In the end she hadn’t even stopped working on films, she’d just changed her contribution on them becoming a screenwriter.  

I glanced at Dylan’s chair where I’d left my camera, my eyes lingering on the white bold letters that formed his last name on the backrest. I tried to imagine my own written on it instead of his but then focused again on my camera and reached for it, slinging it over my shoulder. “I know they can, but I don’t think that’s what I see myself doing.”

“Still aiming for music producer?” Dylan asked with a grin as he strapped a sword belt to his waist.

I tapped the headphones around my neck. “I think so.”

Dylan glanced at me with a smile as he finished to strap his belt. “Well, either way I’m sure you’ll be good at it.”

“Obviously.” I grinned.

He rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Thanks for helping me go through my lines again.”

“Anytime.”

I looked at the beautiful green surrounding me in the same awe I always did. Even after living here on Dominica for so long the landscape was still admirable. The different trees and bushes all demanded you to look at them, to find the beauty in their existence. It was fun to see all the people working to set things up for filming now. It was like a mix of what I was used to being around back on Angeles and the wonders of Dominica’s nature, so I wandered around set taking pictures as I always did. This time using a digital camera instead of the instant one I preferred.

After my first month on Dominica, back when my mother was still using the setting as inspiration for writing her newest idea, I realized digital camera was going to be more practical for expeditions of the tropical forest. It had a better range and I didn’t have to constantly pause to store the photos on my portfolio.

I snapped pictures of the actors, of the team in charge of the video cameras, of the birds that decided to fly above us, of my dad exchanging words with the movie director and even of my mom intently listening to what the girl in charge of costume design was explaining. I loved every second captured. Even though a picture might never do a moment complete justice, it would capture the moment forever, and sometimes it could capture moments that you would have never noticed on the split second they happened. Things your brain would never process so quickly. That’s why I loved taking pictures pretty much everywhere.

Sadly, my joy of taking pictures was interrupted by a guy throwing an empty water bottle at our trashcan and completely missing it. How. Dare. He. I stomped over to the trashcan and lifted the bottle from the nearby bush it had landed on. In a different circumstance, in a different place, I would have picked it up and kept on walking. I was never one to look for a fight. Not because I couldn’t handle them, but because I’d rather avoid them. Learned that one the hard way. But, this was our set. Therefore it was my territory. It was one of the few places where I had a say on what happened because people on set knew me and respected me. My dad was producer and I knew what he accepted and what he didn’t. We were here to borrow this space from nature, so it was not acceptable for people to litter here under any circumstance. And so I threw the bottle at the guy’s head.

“Either learn how to aim properly or have the decency to pick it up when you miss.” I yelled at him.

He turned around to look at me vexed, but as soon as he recognized me his eyes widened and he looked down at the bottle at his feet.

The other crewmen around him tried to contain their laughter and Kate, who was behind him, elbowed him playfully. “You heard the girl newbie, pick it up.”

The guy seemed to react immediately, picking up the bottle as he blushed. He walked over to the trashcan and threw the bottle inside mumbling a “sorry”. I nodded at him. Of course it was a newbie. Everyone working with my mom knew better than to litter on set, specially when it was outdoors. He was lucky I was the one to see it and not my mom.

***

I was in the middle of mixing two different music samples, trying to overlap the piano with the multiple violins at the best moment to create the right beat, when my mom knocked on my door. It took her multiple times for me to actually hear her with my headphones on. Once I heard her I rushed over to the door and opened it. She glared at me with a raised eyebrow.

I laughed nervously. “Sorry mom.”

She shook her head at me. We’d agreed that to avoid situations like this I would always let her now when I was working on music or just wearing headphones in general, but every now and then I forgot to tell her and she would have to yell at the door for me to hear her, which she rightfully preferred not to do. “One of these days I’m going to feel tempted to break your headphones if you keep this up.” She mumbled with narrowed eyes.

“Right…” I cleared my throat and noticed the envelopes on her hands. “So… what do you have there.”

She sighed in resignation and entered my room eyeing the different envelopes in her hand as if looking for something specific. “You have mail.” 

I followed her and plopped on my bed after she sat down on my desk chair where I had been working. “Is it Genna?” She was the only friend I regularly send mail to since I’d moved to Dominica.

“Nope.”

I raised my head from the bed. “David?” It was rare for my cousin to write a letter since he prefered calling, but he’d written a couple of times. My mom shook her head again and I frowned, sitting up. “Courtney? Issy? Cooper?” She shook her head after every name. I even mentioned Bertha, though I knew she would be to lazy to sit down and write, she’d rather call being a master of procrastination and all. My mother shook her head yet again.“Who else would write me anything?”

“The palace.”

I raised my eyebrow amused. “What?”

“It seems Prince Haiden is now old enough for a Selection.”

I stood up and took the letter she offered me. “A Selection, huh?”

“Yes, if you want to go you can technically apply for Dominica since we’ve been here for a while now.”

I stared down at the form unsure of what to think about it. I know it was very anticlimactic, but what was I supposed to do? Jump up and down with excitement? I always considered the Selection to be an interesting experiment at best. I mean, so many girls from different castes, backgrounds and personalities. There was drama waiting to ensue. The thing was the closest thing to a reality show if I’ve ever seen one. But it could also prove to be fun. I always found people’s interactions to be interesting in massive groups, plus there was learning about the royal family, the palace and maybe meeting new friends. Also no one could deny the prince was a good looking guy. Not that I would expect him to exactly fall for me or anything, but you know, still good looking.

“You think it’s a good idea?” I asked, slightly confused.

“Well,” my mother eyed the ceiling “it’s quite unconventional…and we don’t really need the money either…convincing your father might be a bit of a challenge, but if you want to give it a try I wouldn’t stop you. My dad really wanted me to go when it was King Ashton’s Selection, but I told him I wasn’t really interested.”

“Why not?”

She gave me a mischievous smile. “I told him I wanted to concentrate on my career as an actress since there was an important movie coming out the next year I wanted to audition for but…in reality I’d just met your dad.”

I couldn’t avoid grinning. “Did you just admit you lied to your parents, mom?”

She laughed. “I might have given him excuses when he asked me for specific reasons, but I didn’t initially lie. I told him I wasn’t really interested, which was the truth…and I don’t think I would have been the right fit for the king anyway, your dad was my special someone.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, so cheesy mother, please stop.”

“Okay, fine. I also heard he wasn’t really a fan of blondes [unnecessary A/N: you either get this reference or you don’t] and well…” she pointed at her air and I laughed.

“Did I just hear that correctly?!” David’s voice asked from the phone-line.

I stared at our TV, still slightly shocked as Haiden kept on picking envelopes from the bowl and mentioning names followed by a province.

“It seems like…yeah, I guess.”

There was silence for a moment. “That’s…well…I didn’t really think you would do it.”

“Me either, but I don’t know, I think it could be fun for some reasons.” I wondered if this was how other Selected were reacting around the country. Should I be more excited about this? Because I only feel slightly nervous….

“You’re really strange you know that?”

“You’re just jealous I’m going to have more fans than you.” I joked. I would have zero fans probably, and there was also the fact that my cousin was a music artist with a huge fan-base. He’d also been getting into acting the last two years and he was good at it, so he was as popular as a celebrity got. Half the girls on the country probably wanted to date him. Heck he could have his own Selection and have girls apply.

“Pfft, yeah right. Good luck with that.” he laughed. “You better visit me once you get here by the way. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll just sneak out one night and go to your place. Maybe I’ll go with the Prince.”

He laughed again. 

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