#< working story title.

[ghostenluvs]

story where some random woman becomes queen of a kingdom where the throne is said to be cursed because of all the coincidental heir-to-the-throne deaths and is absolutely not on board with this, she was perfectly content with her edge of the land territory where she could actually have a moment of peace bc people weren't constantly kicking down her doors all day about the land's horrible management problems because she actually did her job looking out for the welfare of her citizens and the entire kingdom wasn't aggressively debating her legitimacy.

so what does she do? abdicate like a normal person? no. she's extra and I want her to do things impractically so I can have a story.

so girlboss just engages in incredibly and increasingly convoluted plots to stage her own dethroning and every single time it just does the exact opposite of what she wants it to do.

fake someone else having more legit claim to the throne? accidentally uncover irrefutable evidence of the next five people in line actually having committed treason.

try and hire someone to stage a fake coup? the guys she hired fail so badly at it that they accidentally storm the wrong castle and now they're wanted next kingdom over for the most pathetic attempt at a hostile takeover in the past 600 years of recorded history.

try and get a fortune teller to fake prophesise that she'd suck as queen and needs to leave? the wizard advisor who got rid of the last 16 heirs because their vibes all sucked slides the fortune teller 20 bucks extra to prophesise the opposite.

so these two people are engaging in barely concealed to the court antics in attempts to either Not have to deal with all the crud rulers have to deal with or keep the current one in place because the past guys were all pathetic and she may hate it but she actually does her job pretty okay.

she may hate being queen but it's not like she's going to screw over the kingdom at large and it's citizens to get out of it.

eventually she gets desperate and tries to fake her kidnapping by like a dragon or something in exchange for some gold and the dragon and the wizard are old pals from fantasy hijinks college and this woman is halfheartedly yoinked from a picnic and dropped in a really tall tree literally anybody with rope and a ladder could get up and she's back grumpily drawing up ethical infrastructure upkeep plans in less than two hours.

wizard advisor grinning smugly at her while she, exhaustedly and frustrated that nobody would do this before her, signs union protections into law while her attempt of the day to go off and live in a cottage somewhere fails loudly in the background.

she just wants to sleep in past 6 am and not have to deal with big social minefield parties and also not have to deal with assassins from the families of the past 16 terribly pathetic rulers for ten seconds meanwhile court wizard ameilia is forcing her to attend alliance meetings and bringing to her attention the egregious policy failings of the past rulers that she can't just LEAVE LIKE THAT.

so this goes on until eventually most of the glaring issues have been addressed and she just realizes hey wait why didn't I just coordinate a coup with wizard ameilia so she could do all this instead since she's so insistent on fixing everything.

and then she asks and wizard ameilia admits that she also hates paperwork but somebody had to do it.

and then she just pettily throws the contents of her inkwell at her and goes back to reversing some random past king's dumb law he made because he wanted to save face for some dumb embarrassing thing he did while also writing herself a not to assign wizard woman ameilia nine extra court responsibilities and an apprentice so if the next ruler after her sucks at their job they can force some random person with some level of morals into enacting ethical policy too.

this probably makes no sense and I am writing this 46 minutes past midnight but I think it's funny and if I actually put this into chaptered writing I am not really focusing on the ethics or political side of things. I am entirely doing this just to see how far into absurdity I can push this woman's 'someone please dethrone me I need a nap' plotting.

[trensu]

Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants. 

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration. 

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

--

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

--

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

--

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me. 

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it. 

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond. 

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.” 

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[harmonysixx]

They're talking shit about the 'authorities'

The 'authorities':

[lazylittledragon]

something about beginnings

[emperorofthedark]

Cassandra Goth is our poor, unlucky heroine. She has no idea how or why she's ended up trapped within the halls of Whispering Winds Academy, or why her famously missing mother is acting as headmistress, but she is determined to get out with her sanity intact.

[zal-cryptid]

After a long night of writing, I am finally finished the scripts for the first three chapters/episodes of my Misfits in Toyland comic! Here are their titles:

Bonus points if you catch all the references. Now I just gotta, you know, draw it. ✍️

If you like what I do and want to support my project, please consider supporting me over on Patreon:

[noxious-fennec]

Alright. I want you all made perfectly aware that I have completely cut support for Wilbur soot and any associated projects. I find his "apology" to be disingenuous and trashy damage control, and it undermines whatever desire he has to improve, however genuine that is.

I 100% support Shelby and any victim of such disgusting behaviour, i commend them for their courage, and I wish them nothing but prosperity, support, and happiness. I will always value their peace over whatever art he made. I'll find other fucking art.

[xinghai]

When the moon reaches for the stars

[lyralit]

titling wips - prompts and examples

the name of an important character (Hamlet, Shakespeare)

an important place (ACOTAR, S.J.M.)

a summary / foreshadowing of the plot (the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, C.S.L.; Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, L.C.)

look at other titles from the genre -> currently a popular layout in YA fantasy is "a ______ of ______"

choose one word that summarizes nearly everything (Divergent, V.R.)

the name of a place or event (Caraval, Stephanie Garber)

a recurring theme (Twilight, Stephenie Meyer)

a quote (These Violent Delights, Chloe Gong)

literary devices -> alliteration (The Great Gatsby, F.S.F.) -> rhetoric (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, P.K.D.) -> allusion (Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea, Chelsea Handler)

what stands out? can you put that into words?

remember that titles will change with time—Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen) was once named First Impressions, and War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy) named All's Well that Ends Well

the time of the setting of the novel (Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell)

enough of the ending to spike curiosity in the reader (They Both Die at the End, Adam Silvera)

a rare word that describes the book

use a general title then a subtitle

think of the title being as much of a hook as the first line. would you rather read Caraval or Magic Fair?

be specific—Mystery of the Iron Mask VS the Mystery of the Man in the Iron Mask (E. H.-J.)

prompts for @greengardenfairylit

[beebfreeb]

I love the protagonists of my OCverses

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hey guess what it's more Good Ganondorf content!

@silvercaptain24 <3

The party had long since finished. Link had been escorted back to his room and left in peace. With food in his stomach and some water, he felt his strength returning. His body trembled as he stood tentatively, alone in his room, but he managed to stay on his feet nonetheless.

Stepping quietly to the door, Link put an ear to it. There had to be guards outside, but he hadn't seen any when Nabooru had brought him back here.

This entire situation was making less sense, but he wasn't going to stick around long enough to parse it all out. Nabooru had claimed Ganondorf was holding him hostage to keep him safe. Ganondorf himself had tried to make himself look like he wasn't the villain, like the entirety of Hyrule hadn't been ripped apart at the seams because of his corruption and desire for power, like he hadn't torn the Triforce from Link and Zelda in battle while his army slaughtered their men.

It didn't make sense. What game was the monster playing? Link would have to figure it out when he made it back to his own people. Zelda and his army were waiting for him. The queen was no doubt trying to get a rescue operation together, and Link didn't want to risk anyone's lives over himself, not when he could find his own way out. He wasn't some helpless fool, he could handle this, and he would get the Triforce pieces back that the queen so desperately guarded.

He'd seen the crazed look in Zelda's eyes when they'd lost the Triforce the first time. He didn't want to see that again.

There was no other way out of this room than to use the door. It felt stupidly simple and reckless. He had to open it quickly, to catch the guards by surprise, wherever they were stationed. He needed some kind of weapon. He'd managed to sneak a knife in from dinner, slipping it into his boot, but he wasn't sure how useful it would be. He gripped it firmly in his hand and took a steadying breath.

It was now or never.

Link threw the door open, quickly taking in his surroundings, and saw... nothing.

No one... was there.

Well, he couldn't stop to think about it. The noise he'd just made would attract attention.

Trying to remember the path Nabooru had led him through to get outside, Link ran quickly, ignoring the chill that sank into his bones as he moved. When had it gotten so cold? His fingers felt like they were getting numb already as they gripped the knife.

The hallway opened up to a larger room. He remembered that. This was where--

A hand grabbed him by the back of his tunic and yanked harshly, sending him to the floor with a yell. Link kicked blindly, eyes focusing on his target.

It was Ghirahim.

Snarling, Link rolled to get away and swiped with the knife to create distance. Ghirahim caught his arm by the wrist, watching him with a sadistic smile.

"I figured you wouldn't sit still for long, sky child," he purred.

Something in Link roared in response, and he let out a battle cry as gripped the demon's arm with his free hand, bringing all his weight down to drag Ghirahim to the ground. The demon gasped a little at the increased weight he was holding, but he caught the hero by the shirt instead of letting them both fall.

Link spat in his face next, and that worked brilliantly, making the demon hiss and pull away immediately. Free from his grasp, Link began to run, knowing this was not a fight he was going to win with a knife. He heard a snap and Ghirahim appeared in front of him.

"Now, now," Ghirahim said, brushing some white hair out of his face. "I have strict orders to keep you here."

"Over my dead body," Link snarled.

"Oh, I wish," Ghirahim replied. "You see, that has been a point of contention lately. My master wishes you alive and it is so dreadfully taxing on me. But I trust his judgment. He has a way to address the true matter. And then your little vassal can be safe and sound while I deal with you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Link snapped, eyes searching for another escape route as he spoke. The demon lord certainly loved to talk, so if Link could use that to his advantage, he would.

"It's amazing how dense you can be," Ghirahim grumbled. "Honestly, an entire war fought for you and you don't even understand it. Cia may have fallen in love with you, but she desires your vassal. Nevertheless, this has always been about eliminating you. My master understands that. It will be my highest honor to serve in that capacity for him, to be the one to deliver the killing blow. I cannot wait for that momentous occasion."

"You're out of your mind," Link replied. Another hallway was just to the left, and if he ran fast enough... "I am the Hero. I don't know what you're talking about with vassals. I serve the queen as a--"

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT THE QUEEN!" Ghirahim screamed, face contorted in rage. "This is about you, sky child, about revenge, about eliminating the one threat in my master's way! Her Grace isn't here, and her descendant doesn't have a fraction of that power, the Triforce is all my master needs now, and I will finally be able to kill you!"

The conversation was about to end and Link knew it. He tore off in the direction of the other hallway, managing to round the corner when he heard a snap again. He was prepared this time, grabbing the nearest pot and throwing it just as diamonds materialized in front of him. Ghirahim grunted as it made impact as soon as he appeared, shattering into countless pieces while Link quickly backtracked and went a different way.

By the grace of the goddesses, that had given the captain enough time to at least outmaneuver the demon lord, who wasn't sure which part of the compound Link had ended up by now. He was grateful for it, his heart racing and pounding in his ears as he rushed to find an exit. Fighting Ghirahim in the heat of battle felt far more... controlled than this. Here he felt like prey, and Ghirahim's rage and power over him was...

He wasn't going to say he was scared. He wouldn't.

Link felt a breeze and it gave him hope. That had to mean he was close to the outdoors. But where were all the Gerudo?

A door was up ahead, sand trickling in from beneath it, a promise of freedom and safety. Link threw it open with relief.

And ran right into Ganondorf.

Gasping, Link scrambled backwards, losing his footing and his balance as he fell unceremoniously to the ground. He continued to scoot away, trying to find a way around the towering figure. The man was enormous - it could give Link the advantage of scurrying around him if he was fast enough, but the world was spinning and--

"I figured you might try this," Ganondorf sighed.

Okay. Okay, fine. So they were talking. That would give him time to catch his breath. All these fools and their monologues - and people said Link was arrogant. At least he didn't usually give his enemies time to formulate a plan while they were actively standing in front of him.

"Your strength is returning," Ganondorf noted, walking towards him. "But that doesn't mean you're ready for a fight."

Well, Link might as well try to get some answers while he was here. "Where's the Triforce, you monster?"

"Where it needs to be," Ganondorf answered simply, closing the door behind him, much to Link's dismay. He stared at Link for an uncomfortably long time, making the captain squirm.

"Nabooru said you want me alive. Tell me why," he demanded, trying to make the man talk again.

Ganondorf was silent for a moment longer and then shook his head. "You're not in a state to accept my words."

"Try me," Link goaded. He had to admit, at this point he was curious. And it bought him more time to figure out what the heck his next step would be.

"I know your type, Hero," Ganondorf said, tacking on the title as if it were a curse. "You follow the queen like a puppy that doesn't know any better. Your heart is filled with a sense of duty, a desire to help and do good, and it is fixed on that woman. You'll do whatever Zelda tells you."

Link bristled but bit his tongue. Whatever slander Ganondorf was about to say didn't interest him, but the man hadn't made a point yet.

"You don't see the mess you're in," Ganondorf continued, shaking his head. "You don't understand. I'm trying to protect you, Link."

Link blinked. Then he blinked again. Nabooru had said as much, but hearing it from him... well. She had said keep him safe. He'd interpreted it as keep him alive. "Protect me from what?"

"Everything," Ganondorf muttered in a low time, voice rumbling in his chest. He bent forward, as if to grab Link, and the captain took that as his cue.

Link bolted, rushing to the left to get out of the reach of the man as he tried to run around him, using his small size to his advantage. He reached the door and immediately realized his mistake.

It was locked.

The ground vanished beneath him, and Link felt his stomach lurch as he was held in the air by one of his arms. The strain of having his entire body weight pulled into his shoulder joint made him grit his teeth. Then his world twirled as he was tossed against the man, his back to Ganondorf's chest, held in place by an arm wrapped around his torso.

"Let me go!" he yelled, kicking his legs as much as possible.

"I told you that you were not ready for this conversation," Ganondorf said, almost chidingly. "I'm taking you back to your room so you can rest."

"You think I'll be ready for a conversation that isn't true?" Link snapped. "You're holding me hostage for a reason, stop lying to me!"

Ganondorf said nothing, walking down the hallway with Link his helpless prisoner dangling in his grip. His waist and stomach ached from the hold, though at least pressed against someone else warmed him enough that he wasn't shivering and numb. His body was screaming at him at this point, wounds he hadn't even realized existed suddenly flaring up. He supposed the battle that had gotten him captured had left more marks than he'd realized.

That didn't matter. Escaping mattered.

Link felt so utterly helpless and he hated it. He'd never felt so out of control in his life. When he was plopped back on the bed and left alone to his own musings, he curled into a ball, suddenly shivering again.

He felt so, so alone. And suddenly, with the thought of Ghirahim's twisted, demented, enraged face, with the thought of how easily Ganondorf just manhandled him, he felt...

He wasn't going to say it. He wasn't going to say it.

Damn it all, he was scared. And he hated it.

He was the bearer of the Triforce of Courage and he was scared.

Burying his face into his knees, Link hugged himself and cursed himself at the same time. The tears fell silently at first before little hiccups started to accompany them. He was too tired for this. The only mercy the goddesses provided was that he was alone. He didn't want anyone to see him like this.

His body felt impossibly heavy. The room felt like it was closing in. He was exhausted. His head hurt. His stomach ached from how he'd been held. Something on his back seared like fire. His knees were bothering him. He was freezing. He felt so unbelievably overwhelmed. He felt so unbelievably unsafe.

He'd always been the one to save the day. He'd been invincible with the Master Sword, though he'd learned that having others to help him was equally as important. But he had no Master Sword here. No friends. No hope of anything.

In the darkness and cold of the night, his fears consumed him, and he gave into despair. Link cried, so desperately alone. He just wanted to feel safe.

Warmth enveloped him, and he sank into it willingly, his hiccups turning into sobs. Something ran soothingly along his back, soft cloth was pressed against his face, and he found himself clinging to it desperately like a lifeline.

He needed to get himself together. He didn't care. No one was here anyway.

Then what's... why am I...?

He was too tired to process it anymore. All he knew was he felt safe.

"You'll be okay, child."

The voice was deep and gentle, whispered into his hair. Gentle pressure pressed him against whatever softness was in front of him. He heard a heartbeat.

A heartbeat. Pressure. Words. This was... he wasn't alone.

Hiccupping, Link opened his eyes, hands still clinging for dear life to patterned cloth in front of him, red hair spilling into his face as it slid over the person's shoulders.

A deep voice. A man's voice. A man wearing Gerudo--

What the hell.

Alarms rang in Link's mind as he put the pieces together. This couldn't be right this couldn't be right--

"You're safe," the voice said gently, continuing to run a hand along his back.

Link was so lost and confused and hurt and why the hell didn't anything make sense what was happening--

"I'll fix this," Ganondorf promised, and Link gave up entirely, falling apart.

[tenderjock]

in the middle before I knew that I had begun; [not a happy codywan ficlet]

In the Jedi teaching, attachment is forbidden. Love is – a separate issue, obviously, as love can take many forms. When Cody and I were – what I mean is, I was –

You realized that you were in love with him and panicked.

: :

Obi-Wan is finishing the dregs of his second Daruvvian champagne cocktail when Breha inhales, sharp.

“Hmm?” he turns to her. His head is pleasantly fuzzy, but he’s far from nonfunctional. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reassure him. There’s something strained around her eyes. He turns to see what she had been looking at, and she puts an insistent hand on his arm. “No, Obi-Wan –”

He doesn’t immediately see whatever caused Breha such stress; instead, Obi-Wan’s eyes go to Cody, sharply dressed in his greys across the ballroom. He’s talking to the Ghayyn’i ambassador, a handsome man with wide green eyes. The ambassador is tall enough that Cody has to look up to meet his gaze. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to comment, rather snarkily, on that fact, when the ambassador brushes gentle, sensual fingers across Cody’s chest.

Obi-Wan waits for Cody to move away. He doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a little knowing quirk of the lips.

“Oh,” he says, feeling rather as though the wind has been knocked out of him. “Oh.” He quickly looks away. Cody is a very private person, and it feels wrong to have seen something so clearly intimate.

“Obi-Wan,” Breha says, and her face is sad. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why it’s sad. Nothing bad has happened. He clears his throat, thinking one of the sweet-pickle cherries in his drink must have caught there. Unbidden, his gaze is drawn back to Cody and the – the ambassador, who is now laughing at something Cody said.

It’s fine. It’s beyond fine – it’s wonderful, that people recognize Cody for the brilliant man that he is, Obi-Wan explains, three cocktails later, eyes closed with his head in Bail’s lap. Bail makes a noncommittal noise.

“People other than his command,” he clarifies. “And his fellow commanders. And, ah. Me.” His voice is very rough on the last word. These sugary drinks are really hell on the throat, he thinks.

“Of course, love,” Breha says soothingly. Her hand cards through his hair. It feels pleasant. Cody does the same, when they’re lying in Obi-Wan’s bunk together after a long day.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, letting them stare unfocused somewhere near the floor. Breha is really wearing the most ridiculous shoes, and he’s thinking he should tell her that when a pair of GAR-issued boots come to a crisp halt just in his line of sight.

“General,” Cody says. Obi-Wan nearly falls out of Bail’s lap in his effort to sit up quickly.

“Commander!” he says, helpless to how warm he sounds. Cody had looked good when they left the ship, all buttoned up in his uniform, but he looks better now. He’s holding his cap in his hand, letting Obi-Wan see his short curls, and the top clasp of his jacket is undone.

Obi-Wan squints. Is that a lovebite on his neck?

Before he can dwell on that, Cody says, “We should get you back to the Temple, sir.”

Obi-Wan considers that. He’s fine where he is, except that when he attempts to lay back down in Bail’s lap, both Bail and Breha push him back up.

“That’s a good idea,” Bail says, firm but kind. How he adores the man. “I can arrange for an air taxi – Commander, are you alright to see him back?” There’s something uncertain in Bail’s voice. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why; it’s Cody. Of course they’ll see each other back.

Cody just looks at him. In this light, his eyes are dark honey.

“I’ll get you home, boss,” he says after a beat. Obi-Wan blinks at him, lips parted. He suddenly feels the alcohol very much, everything loose and golden and a little bit sweaty. Cody’s lips twitch. “C’mon, then.”

Cody manhandles Obi-Wan to his feet. Obi-Wan tucks his face into Cody’s shoulder as best he can while also moving his limbs in the direction of the taxi Bail is calling them. Cody, wonderful steady dependable Cody, keeps him going, a hand at his waist and another under his armpit.

“The ambassador,” Obi-Wan manages after a few steps. Cody hums.

“He had to leave,” Cody says. “There was an afterparty. He asked –” he cuts himself off, then continues: “I’d rather stay here, honestly.”

Obi-Wan nuzzles the starched fabric of his shirt. Wonderful man, he thinks.

The taxi ride lurches unpleasantly. Obi-Wan is distracted by the task of not spewing the contents of his stomach all over his commander. They get to the Temple without incident, and make it to Obi-Wan’s rooms with no one other than Yoda – who cackles – seeing them.

Cody puts Obi-Wan down in his bed. Obi-Wan tugs him in after.

He catches himself above Obi-Wan, arms bracketing Obi-Wan’s head. Cody huffs a bit of laughter and dips down to brush a kiss over his forehead. Obi-Wan cranes up, chasing his lips.

“Not now, sir,” Cody says, chiding. He kneels at the side of the bed to take off Obi-Wan’s boots. When he’s done, he leans back up, brushing the hair out of Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan beams at him, feeling unbearably fond. His Cody. His darling. Always looking after him.

Cody’s face is very still, just a few inches above his. Obi-Wan reaches out, touches his scar.

“What are you thinking?” he wonders. Cody shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He kisses Obi-Wan’s forehead again. “Get some rest, General.”

Obi-Wan exhales, eyes fluttering closed. He tracks Cody’s movement, straightening his jacket, turning the lights off, slipping out the door. His familiar Force presence is warm sunlight and hot caf, thrilling and comfortable in equal measure.

As the door clicks closed, Obi-Wan murmurs sleepily to himself, “Love you, my darling.”

: :

When he wakes up, head pounding and mouth dry, Obi-Wan remembers what he said. He’s the only one that heard it; it would have been easier to forget.

This complicates things.

Somehow, they go a fortnight, ending their leave and starting a mission, without Obi-Wan saying anything. He’s just – waiting for the right moment, a moment when they aren’t dogged by war and flimsiwork, when he can talk to Cody calmly and reasonably.

Or does he even need to talk to Cody? He was drunk. Everyone says things they don’t mean when they’re drunk. Teenage drunken Anakin once told Obi-Wan he wished he had been born a jellysquash, as they have no feelings and don’t know enough to care.

Cody is leading a squad on Im-Onh-Augulu’s surface when comms cut out. It’s a tense three-quarter hour before they reestablish communications.

“Arrow squad to Vigilance,” Corporal Hart is saying. “Vigilance, do you copy?”

“Copy,” Gregor says, shooting Obi-Wan a look. Cody should be the one contacting them and they both very well know it. “Arrow, sitrep, over.”

“Is General Kenobi there, Captain?” the corporal says. “Over.”

Obi-Wan’s heart is in his throat. “I’m listening, Hart, over,” he says. Under the sleeves of his robes, he’s clenching his wrists hard enough to bruise.

“They captured the commander, sir,” Hart says, desperately blunt. “When they recognized him, they took him and left the rest of us. Said they’re going to use him for negotiations. Over.”

Gregor looks at him. Appalment-sympathy-secondhand-embarrassment-stress is radiating off not just him, but also every clone trooper and officer on the bridge.

Use him for negotiations. Because Cody was a Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. Because he was Obi-Wan’s right hand man. Because Obi-Wan loved him, dearly, and would do near about anything to get him back, a fact which was apparently obvious to everyone except for him.

“Understood,” Obi-Wan says, feeling like his mouth is very far away from his body. “Regroup at the drop point; we’ll be sending a secondary team to that location for extraction.” He’s quiet for a second, nails biting into skin. “May the Force be with you. Over.”

: :

Obi-Wan is the one leading the extraction team, and Obi-Wan is the one to find Cody. He’s in bad shape.

“Didn’t –” Cody slurs out. His eyes can’t seem to focus. “Didn’t tell – ah – them kriff, sir.”

Obi-Wan stares at him, heart pounding in his chest. At his commander – at Cody, telling him that he didn’t fucking talk, when he was being fucking tortured because of Obi-Wan –

“I know,” he says, finally, blinking. He touches the pads of his fingers to Cody’s left eye. “I know you didn’t.” Obi-Wan leaves off the my dear at the end of that sentence, because it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He slings an arm around Cody and hauls him to his feet, instead. “Right this way, Commander.”

Not just his commander. The man he loves.

That thought beats around Obi-Wan’s head for almost a day before he can reconcile it with the heavy feeling in his gut. The man he loves. And he doesn’t – he can’t – it doesn’t mean –

His chest hurts.

Cody doesn’t –

It can’t be so kriffing serious that he can’t think the words. It’s not. It’s not –

Cody doesn’t love him. How could he? How could his beautiful, brave, resilient, kind Commander Cody, who isn’t really his at all – how could he love Obi-Wan? And if he did – if he had some incredible lapse in judgement that allowed him to – to – Cody would have said something, his brutally levelheaded Cody who wasn’t afraid of anything, let alone Obi-Wan and his feelings –

So, no. Cody didn’t love him. That shouldn’t make Obi-Wan feel like his ribcage was being split in two.

And if Cody doesn’t love him, then that means it isn’t wrong for Obi-Wan to – kiss him, soft and warm, and press his cold nose to the back of Cody’s neck, and hold him, and –

It can’t be wrong, can it? It can’t be wrong. It hurts no one. He knows possession is against the Jedi code, but this isn’t possession, because Cody isn’t his, and Cody doesn’t love him, and –

Obi-Wan feels ill.

Cody remains in bacta for three days. Obi-Wan finishes his flimsiwork, then finishes Cody’s flimsiwork, then works on some of Gregor’s flimsiwork. He arranges the battle plans for their next two attacks. He oversees the writing of some new training protocols, something about not letting shinies have access to oxygen tanks. He scrubs his quarters, stem to stern, twice.

Eventually, Cody wakes up. And like a flutterbug drawn to flame, Obi-Wan goes to him.

: :

“We need to stop,” Obi-Wan says. He’s not looking at Cody. It’s the day after the commander’s been released by the medics, and he came to Obi-Wan’s quarters to get the datapads Obi-Wan had borrowed when he was doing all the flimsiwork he could get his hands on.

“… Stop?” Cody asks. His brow is furrowed. Obi-Wan aches to smooth it out.

“This,” Obi-Wan starts, and stumbles. “Our – us. What we have. We need to stop.”

He expects Cody to argue. He expects Cody to demand an explanation. He doesn’t expect Cody to take a slow, deep breath and say, “Of course, sir. If you think it’s best.”

Obi-Wan feels like his chest has caved in. He can’t speak.

“Anything else, sir?” Cody asks. Obi-Wan shakes his head, blinking hard.

Cody stands there at parade rest for a long moment before Obi-Wan realizes he’s waiting for a dismissal. He clears his throat. “Ah, no, Commander. That’s all.”

Cody salutes crisply – salutes – and about-faces to the door. When it clicks shut behind him, Obi-Wan lets out a single hideous, strangled sob. He buries his face in his hands.

Well. At least it looks like they won’t have to dance around each other awkwardly for much longer, he thinks to himself. The war looks to be over soon. Obi-Wan sniffs, straightens himself up, and pulls up the plans for the invasion of Utapau.

[rottmnt-brainrot-hours]

An old Raph POV Man vs Sewer edit- somehow I’ve never seen this idea done? It’s implied he doesn’t really remember wrecking the tunnel, possibly not even his panicking, so I snipped that part out. The destruction’s especially jarring without context.

[rhoorl]

Working Title | Chapter 9

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Belle

Rating: Mature, 18+, for the love of all things please don’t engage if you are a minor ok? 

Word Count: 6.2k (A longer one from me, but I added in some Dieter POV).

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Chapter 9 on AO3

Chapter Summary: More first-day shenanigans from the set. Also, news of Dieter and Belle’s date is starting to make the rounds.

Chapter Warnings: This one gets a little angsty at times but then there’s fluff because it’s me and I can’t help myself, especially with Dieter. There is also swearing (again, it’s me) and allusions to body insecurity and a past toxic relationship (aka Ryan sucks, booo!). There's also a brief discussion of fan culture, especially online.

“I hope you have a great first day. I’ll see you a little bit later?”

I don’t want her to leave. I knew our time this morning would be too short.

For someone with an addictive personality, Dieter had grown to recognize the tipping point when something became a craving. And that’s how he felt about Belle – he craved her. Her presence, her smile, her laugh. But unlike his previous vices, being around her made him feel better, stronger…complete.

“Thanks, and yea I’ll see you around …8?” 

“Something like that,” Dieter leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek even though all he wanted to do was wrap her up in his arms and pin her against the counter again. “I’ll see you soon.”

He was grateful that both of his scenes today were with Indy and Sam, which meant he would have some time to see Belle so they could hang out together on set. He watched her as she walked down the hallway to the elevator. His eyes slowly scanned from the top of her head, down to her shoulders, her back, the curves of her ass, her thighs. His hands twitched at his sides, remembering how she felt and imagining how soft her skin must be.

His brows furrowed slightly as he recalled how she tensed up when he tried to move his hand up her shirt. It broke his heart a bit for her. To him, she was so beautiful, and he wanted her to see herself the way he saw her. He was willing to do whatever it took, hoping she could get to a point where she felt comfortable enough with him to share the parts of her past that had obviously left their scars. He wanted to know everything about her, even though it scared him knowing she’d want him to reciprocate as well.  

The elevator dinged, pulling him out of his thoughts and he looked up just in time to see Belle getting in. They locked eyes and he gave her a small two-finger wave, already counting down the minutes until he could see her again. Closing the door he heard his phone ring. 

Well, she’s calling bright and early. 

"Hey, Lizzie. Mornin," he rubbed his face to shake the thought of Belle out so he could concentrate on whatever Liz was calling about.

"Morning sunshine. Glad I caught you. Wanted to give you a heads-up that I'm about to board the plane. I stop in Honolulu first and then I’ll hop on another plane over to you. Should be there by the time you wrap today."

"Cool, sounds good. Wanna get dinner tonight?"

"You sure? I don't want to cockblock any plans you may have. Surely you have something planned to celebrate the first day of shooting. Especially to follow up from yesterday?" She teased.

Liz knew about Dieter and Belle’s date to the coffee farm followed by dinner because photos had reached some of the fan accounts online. Her heart always skipped a beat whenever she would get alerts or notifications about Dieter, even to this day. But in this case, it made her smile. He looked so peaceful and relaxed in the candid shots that were snapped, with his boyish grin and eyes sparkling and crinkled in genuine laughter. She was amazed at the effect Belle had on Dieter after just a couple of days.

“Wait, how do you-”

“There’s photos Dee…”

He sighed, “Ugh, I swear I couldn’t even tell, I should have warned her…”

“Dee, I know Indy isn’t like a huge celebrity, but I’m sure she’s been recognized before out with Belle. She has to know that you’ll attract attention wherever you go.”

Dieter remembered the question Belle asked him the day before at dinner. It dragged up his protective side – he was okay with being in the public eye, but he didn’t want to assume she would be comfortable with the attention. He started to spiral, wondering if she was checking her social media or if someone had sent her a photo asking questions. He just hoped she didn’t read the comments. He didn’t read them himself, not anymore. He used to love interacting with fans, but the nasty comments always cut through to him and were what he’d end up remembering. It was easier for him to just ignore it all.

“I know, I just…ugh you know how I get with this shit you know? I wish I would have known, we could have talked about it this morn-" He paused, not meaning to divulge the last bit. 

"Oh, already having sleepovers, are we?" He could practically hear her smirk.

"No, it wasn't like that Lizzie. She stopped by this morning for coffee."

"That's it? Actually, wait no, don't answer that," she chuckled. "So, things’re going okay then?"

"Which thing…?"

"Well, I know you have the script memorized backward and forwards and you’re going to kick ass today. I mean with Belle, duh! How's it going with you two?"

"G-good, I think. I… we've kissed…a couple of times."

Liz whistled into the phone. "Well, of course you have. You've given her the eyes, right? Sure you have, wait don't answer that…Something else is up, what is it?"

Dieter sighed, after so many years together, Liz was part mom, part friend, and part therapist all rolled up in one. She was one of the only people he felt comfortable enough with to confide in and share his true feelings. "I don't know, I feel like she's putting up a wall or something."

"Well, have you talked to her about it?"

"I don't want to force it. I don't know…it feels like I could be poking at some bad memories or something and I don't want her to have to deal with that unless she wants to. And now with people taking photos of us, ugh, I don’t want her to get freaked out."

"Oh my sweet, always overthinking everything Dieter. You realize it's only been like what two days? Is this day three?"

"I can't keep count anymore," he chuckled. "It hasn't been long at all but it also feels sometimes like I've known her forev-" 

He hears Liz's flight get called to board as she cuts him off. "Look Dee, I'm sure she has to be a little freaked out that it's you you know? Despite the photos, I’d imagine she’s going to be more nervous about how it might look to everyone on set. Just talk to her, okay? Gotta go see you soon!"

"Yeah, I will. Have a safe flight, Lizzie."

As he hung up the phone he thought about what Liz said. It hadn’t occurred to him how the other members of the cast and crew may treat Belle after finding out how close she and Dieter were starting to become. The last thing he wanted was for her to be negatively affected, especially career-wise. He wanted them to stay in a little bubble, just the two of them, without the looks and whispers from people trying to sneak photos of them. Unfortunately, their little bubble was bursted by the start of production. Sure, they’d still see each other every day, but things had to remain professional on set. At least, that’s what he tried telling himself, knowing that if he thought with his dick it would be an entirely different situation.

Getting involved with someone in the cast or on the crew was not new to Dieter. He had calmed down in recent years, thanks to his sobriety. But previously? He’d ask pretty much anyone with a pulse if they wanted to fuck him. Unfortunately, there were still people who either didn’t know he had changed or, possibly worse, didn’t believe it.

Aubrey was one of those people. She had worked on a few of his recent projects. She was always friendly, but she became increasingly more and more flirty with each shoot. It all came to a head during pre-production in LA a few weeks ago. She asked him to go out for drinks, which he quickly refused. It was almost as if getting denied emboldened her even more. Ten years ago, he would have already had his way with her on every surface in his suite, on set, and in a few other places around the resort. But, ever since he saw Belle in the lobby of the studio those weeks ago, he felt like there was a magnet pulling him to her. He wanted to know everything about her and she felt … special.  

A knock at his door snapped him out of his thoughts. It was Danny who had stopped by with breakfast, ready to go over Dieter’s schedule for the day.

"Think there's a chance I can get hair and makeup done earlier?” Dieter asked as he took a bite of the breakfast sandwich. 

"Uh…maybe. Why? D’you miss Belle that much?”

Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head as he downed his orange juice. Danny tried to not break out in a giant smile, but it warmed his heart to see his boss act this way. He'd seen Dieter smitten before, but never like this. 

"You really like her huh?'

"Yeah, I really do, Dan. She's just…I dunno, I just really like being around her…Hey, did the flowers get sorted?"

"Yup, all good and should be in the trailer as we speak. I think she- I mean, they will all like it." He smirked. "Ok, well let me get down to see Mare to ask about coming earlier. I'll text you."

DANNY: You’re good to come down whenever boss.

Once that message came in, Dieter wasted no time grabbing his phone and script so he could rush to set. As he approached the makeup trailer, he felt butterflies in his stomach, excited to not only see Belle again but to see her in her element. Upon opening the door, his eyes were greeted with a sight that conjured up a dream he had last night.

Belle was on all fours underneath the table, struggling to unplug something. But Dieter couldn't concentrate on anything else other than her. Frankly, if he had been asked about the color of his own shirt he wouldn’t have been able to confidently answer it. 

Fuuuck. Okay, think about…baseball. Or running. Or puppies. Something, anything, to not fucking pop a boner in here like a goddamn teenager.

“Oh hey, Dee” he heard Meredith call over.

Belle must have been startled by his presence, wincing as she jumped suddenly, bumping her head on the table.

“You good, Belle? The fucking table came out of nowhere didn’t it?” Meredith teased. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” Belle grumbled as she crawled back from out underneath the table, rubbing the top of her head. As she looked in the mirror, her eyes met Dieter’s. His attempts to think innocent thoughts were not working, a particularly vivid image crossed his mind, bringing a smirk to his face.

Meredith forgot something and rushed out of the trailer. Honestly, Dieter didn’t really hear what she said, knowing that he had an opportunity to talk with Belle. He casually closed the gap between the door and her station, picking up and examining some of the products she laid out, knowing her eyes were on him. As he walked closer, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “For the record, volleyball shorts have now moved up my list of demands.”

Before he could say anything else, Meredith walked in and he moved back to her station. He was trying to stay present in his conversation with Meredith. Sitting in her chair was always a good time for him, she was funny and always gave him great advice. Still, he couldn’t help but glance over to Belle, watching her work.

She had a younger stylist with her, maybe an intern or an apprentice, he wasn’t quite sure. He marveled at how patient Belle was with the girl, graciously answering questions and showing off different techniques. It was turning him on to see her work – she was so knowledgeable and talented. For as flustered and nervous as she had been around him, she transformed into a confident, capable woman armed with makeup brushes and cans of various sprays. He didn’t think he could be more attracted to her, but yet he was.

He could feel Meredith looking at him in the mirror, a knowing smile on her face.

“What’s so funny Mare?”

“Oh, nothing funny Dee. Just…you seem happy.”

He looked down, rubbing his hands over his thighs. “Yeah, you can say that.”

Meredith already saw the photos of Dieter and Belle from yesterday – news travels fast on a set. That coupled with the flowers and their hidden meanings, she knew he had it bad for her lead stylist. Normally, this would sound alarms. She wasn’t the biggest fan of members of her staff being involved with the cast, she thought it sent the wrong message. But this situation felt different. Because of her history with Dieter, knowing the strides he had made over the years, she knew he wasn’t just looking for a hookup. And although she didn’t know Belle very well yet, she seemed like a sweet girl who would be a good influence on Dieter.

She made a mental note to ask him what his intentions were later today when they weren’t surrounded by other stylists and eavesdroppers. Instead, she decided to change the subject to the photoshoot she was set to work on tomorrow.

“So, we still good for tomorrow? Liz texted me the schedule before her plane took off.”

“Yeah…um about that. How would you feel if um…you…are you sure you want to leave set for a whole day? We just started filming and I know what a control freak you are. You ok with leaving? I don’t mind if you need to send someone else.” His hand was gripping and palming the arms of his chair.

Meredith thought it was cute he was trying to be sly when she knew exactly what he was after. She was going to make him say it.

“What are you suggesting Dee?”

“Um…” he squinted, biting his lip. “Just saying, if you wanted to send someone in your place you don’t have to worry about me. I’m good with whatever.”

“OK, you have someone in mind?” She stopped fixing his hair, staring at him in the mirror as a corner of her mouth turned up.

He nodded.

“You going to make me say it, then?” she started to chuckle, glancing over at Belle in the mirror.

Again, Dieter nodded.

“So let me get this straight. You are graciously letting me stay on set tomorrow and instead are pulling my number two off set to spend the day with you?”

“Uh…” his eyes widened.

“I’m just fucking with you Dee, that’s perfectly fine,” she chuckled. “She’s super talented and I think she’ll enjoy that assignment a lot more than I would have,” she leaned in, talking lower and giving him a wink in the mirror.

“Cool, then it’s settled. Thank you for being so…accommodating,” he winked right back.

She was just about finished up when Dieter looked over and saw Belle applying a prosthetic to an extra, her assistant hovering beside her taking in every movement Belle made.

She’s such a badass.

“Ok, Dee, you’re all set,” Meredith gave a slight squeeze to Dieter’s shoulders, indicating that he could get up. 

Belle had tilted the extra’s chair back so she was standing in Dieter’s direct path out of the cramped trailer. As he got closer he put a hand to her lower back so he could get around her.

“‘Scuse me, gotta get right by you.” He felt a wave of relief wash over him when he didn’t feel her tense at his touch.

“Oh, sure, ha-have a great day.”

“You ladies have a great day too,” he winked.

Your face hurt by how much you were smiling. You felt so much pride seeing Indy in front of the camera and kicking ass. She was hitting all of her marks and delivering a great performance. As you stood behind the monitors watching Indy and Sam run through another take, you couldn’t help but think about all the late nights spent with your best friend crying on your shoulder, heartbroken that she was passed over again for a part. The last decade wasn’t always the easiest, but it brought you both to this set.

“They’re doing great, I think we’ll be able to wrap this scene up ahead of schedule,” you overhear one of the crew members say.

The first scene of the shoot was a quick walk and talk between Indy and Sam. It was also the first time you had seen them interact in front of the camera. Their chemistry was undeniable and you knew the audience would love them together. 

You felt your phone buzz, cursing yourself that you didn’t put it on silent, but you wanted to make sure you were available in case Meredith needed you. You smiled when you saw it was Dieter and quickly unlocked your phone.

DIETER: How’s your head?

Umm what?

DIETER: Shit, I realize how that may sound lol I meant when you bumped your head earlier. In the makeup trailer?

You breathed a sigh, chuckling a bit at yourself for where your mind immediately went.

BELLE: Oh. Honestly, it’s a miracle I’m able to continue, but here I am. 🙂

DIETER: I knew you were a badass 😉

DIETER: Meredith doesn’t need a worker’s comp claim on the first day…

BELLE: Lol. I’d hate to do that to her. Can’t have multiple divas running around this set.

DIETER: Ouch! 😉

DIETER: Speaking of, I made a demand already. 

BELLE: About what? Your trailer too small?

DIETER: No, it’s actually quite spacious. You should come check it out sometime…

You blushed at the implication, grinning to yourself at this exchange. Staring at your phone rather than his beautiful brown eyes made it easier to come up with some flirty banter. 

DIETER: I actually want to talk to you about it … my demand. You have lunch plans? Danny said we are taking lunch after my first scene wraps.

BELLE: Nope, no plans. 

DIETER: Cool. Tell Sam and Indy to hurry up so I can get called to set.

BELLE: Haha, I’ll see what I can do. 🙂 

BELLE: Oh, I meant to tell you, the flowers were beautiful. We all loved them! 

DIETER: I'm happy to hear that. It was a very special arrangement.

“Cut! Can we get hair and makeup for some quick touchups?” you heard the assistant director yell out, making you tuck your phone away in your bag and rush over to Indy and Sam, careful to not trip over any of the cords.

“Hey!” you whispered to Indy as you approached her, blotting sheet in hand. “You’re doing amazing!”

“You think so?” She raised her eyebrows, with a big grin on her face.

“Absolutely! I heard them say that they’re probably going to be ahead of schedule, that you both are going to need less takes than they thought!”

Indy let out a big exhale, relieved to hear that she was doing well. You start to pull out a few items from your kit to touch up her makeup and tame some flyaways.

“Hey Belle, think you could check my hair when you're done?” you heard Sam behind you.

“Absolutely. But Sam, you’re killing me with how often you’re touching your hair!” You teased him.

“Sorry, I…can’t help it when I get nervous,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

You finish up with Indy and run your fingers through Sam’s hair, taming it and getting it back in place with a quick spritz of hairspray.

After they run through one more take, you hear the assistant director call for one final take before wrapping. You felt Dieter before you saw him, turning around to see him walking towards you. He looked so handsome in his suit, his glasses folded in one hand, his script in the other. He was smiling, his eyes crinkling up in that adorable way that made you swoon.

“Hey,” he mouthed to you and you gave a little wave as he came to stand next to you.

You both watched Indy and Sam through the monitor, Dieter inching his way closer to you, leaning an arm against the chair you were standing in front of.

“And cut! Print, we’re moving on!” The assistant director shouted as the crew milled about, resetting for the next scene.

“Showtime,” Dieter whispered to you, giving a wink.

You had a lot of fun watching Sam and Indy, but adding Dieter to the mix was entirely different. He was so effortless in his performance, changing up slight microexpressions with each take, which no doubt gave the editors many options to choose from. In between takes, Dieter gave his full attention to Indy or Sam answering their questions, or taking direction from the writers. When he wasn’t in serious actor mode, he showed off his goofy side, making jokes or dancing to keep the mood light. Everyone was all smiles.

The morning was going by quickly and you were ready for lunch. It had been such a busy morning, you never really ate a proper breakfast. Earlier, Sam snuck you a granola bar he had nabbed from the craft services table after hearing your stomach grumble between takes. 

“So, you had quite the day yesterday didn’t you?” You heard a shrill voice next to you, trying your hardest to not roll your eyes once it registered that the voice belonged to Aubrey.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen?” She handed over her phone, which was opened to an Instagram account that had several photos from the day before – photos of you and Dieter at the coffee farm, laughing as you were trying samples, and candids from your dinner. You felt a bit violated, you hadn’t even realized anyone had been taking photos of you other than the two people who asked for a selfie with Dieter.

As you scrolled through you happened to click on a photo which brought up the comments. You could see there were more than 300 comments on this post alone, although only a couple were displayed. You told yourself not to look, but you couldn’t help yourself, curiosity and a little bit of masochism reigning supreme.

Anyone know who the girl is?

Doesn’t seem like his usual type.

Ugh she’s so lucky! 

She’s a little … bigger … than his last girl, right?

Woof, Dieter must really be desperate these days

Your stomach dropped and it felt like a WWE wrestler just punched you in the gut. You could feel your face getting red and you just wanted to run away before the frustrated tears started.

“Um…I…have to go to the bathroom,” you gave the phone back to Aubrey who had a smug smile on her face.

You wanted to bust out into a full sprint, just to put distance between yourself and everyone else, but you knew you had to be more discreet. Instead, you made a beeline back towards the makeup trailer. Indy took notice of your abrupt departure, craning her neck to see where you were going. 

“Where’s she running off to?” Sam asked Indy, prompting Dieter to look up and see Belle scurrying away. He happened to glance over at Aubrey who was smirking as she propped her phone against her chin.

What the fuck did she say to her? 

“Hey, are we good here?” Dieter asked the assistant director.

“Nah, let’s do one more, then I think we’re good.”

Dieter let out an annoyed sigh, he was itching to run after Belle. She was clearly upset and he didn’t want her to be alone. Seeing Aubrey with a phone only sounded the alarm bells in his head that she may have seen the photos.

Indy could sense a change in his energy, his jaw tensed and he got quiet. The last take wasn’t their best, but the director actually preferred the grumpiness Dieter added to the performance, not realizing it was Dieter who was doing a poor job of masking his real-life frustration.

“We good now?” He asked a bit more sternly than before.

“Yea, what’s the rush, you trying to be the first one to lunch?”

Dieter didn’t hear the rest of what the man had to say, rushing off in the direction he saw Belle go.

Where’d you go, baby?

You rushed past the sets, keeping your head down to avoid talking with anyone. When you made it to the makeup trailer, you collapsed into a chair, putting your head in your hands to try and breathe, tears streaming down your face.

In…two…three…out…two…three..four…five.

This went on for several minutes and you felt your pulse start to slow and your breathing evened out enough for you to sit up and stare at yourself in the mirror, not realizing how much time was passing by.

A soft knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. “Yea?” you croaked out as you frantically tried to wipe your tears.

The door opened and you saw a fluffy mop of hair. “Hey…uh…are you ok?”

You could feel the tears coming back and couldn’t trust your voice so you just shook your head side to side, looking down.

“Oh, sweetheart come here,” in a few strides Dieter was over to you, kneeling in front of your chair, taking your hands in his. You kept your gaze down, trying to avoid his eyes for fear of erupting into a full-out sob. “Hey, can you look at me,” he lightly lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

That’s when the damn broke. Seeing his concern. The fact that he sought you out to check on you and comfort you made the tears flow freely. He stood up and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, rubbing your back as you cried into his stomach. He kissed the top of your head, bringing one hand to cradle the back of your head, scratching your scalp.

“I- I’m sorry…I sniff sorry, I don’t want to ruin your shirt.”

“Shh that’s ok, there's extras.” He continued to comfort you, just letting you cry it out. After you slowed down and were able to get your breathing under control he cleared his throat, “You don’t have to tell me, but I really want to know what upset you. Wanna talk about it?”

You nodded and he pulled back as he wiped your tears with his thumbs before moving to caress your cheeks. 

“S-sorry, just a lot of shit kinda came together at the same time,” you continued to sniff.

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” he said firmly searching your face. “Just break it down, one thing at a time.”

“I…I just feel like…so stupid for letting Aubrey get to me.”

He sighed, “Ugh, what did she do?”

“Well, I guess nothing necessarily. What she showed me just triggered some shit I guess.”

He grabbed a foldout chair and brought it to sit in front of you, taking your hand in his, rubbing circles with his thumbs.

You sat quietly together for a moment before you finally whispered, “Why me?”

“Huh?”

“Why me? You could literally spend time with anyone on this set, Aubrey included, why me?” 

He looked confused, pulling his hands back and rubbing them down his face. "Baby, I could ask you the same question…I told you this morning. I…really like you. I like being around you. I like how comfortable I feel around you, relaxed even, which is saying something for me…" his big brown eyes looked up at you as if he wanted to say more, but stopped.

“People took photos of us yesterday.”

“I saw, I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.” He cleared his throat. “How do you feel about it?”

“Ha, which part?” you sniffled.

He looked down. “Being seen with me.” 

“Being seen with you? I feel like it’s the opposite Dieter.” You shook her head, trying to fight back more tears.

“Are you serious? I’m with a beautiful, funny, smart woman who’s fucking great at her job. The only red flag I’ve seen so far is that you like pineapple on your pizza,” he smiled, hopeful you’d laugh, which you did. 

“I don’t know if your fans agree.”

He sighed, “You read the comments didn’t you?” You nodded. “You can’t do that shit, honestly, it’s not worth it. For all of the wonderful, loving comments out there, the only ones that end up sticking are the shitty ones. I haven’t read them, what did they say?”

You took a deep breath, hoping you’d be able to keep it together. “Just that I’m not your usual type, that that I’m-” You couldn’t make it, starting to cry again.

Dieter once again got up to hug you before grabbing your face to look at him. “Listen, I know it hasn’t been long, but I really really like you Belle. You’re special. And I want to show you how special you are if you’ll let me. You’re the one in control here, baby, I'll do whatever you ask of me.”

He was so sincere and Indy’s earlier comment echoed in your head He doesn’t like her, he likes you, remember? So many emotions were running through your head, but all you wanted was comfort. For him to make you feel good. His puppy dog eyes weren’t helping matters either. So, you pushed all of your negative self-talk and thoughts aside, and let your body take over.

You crashed into him, wanting to feel his lips on yours. He was caught off guard, not kissing you back at first, but it only took a few seconds before his hand was in your hair. You opened your mouth, inviting his tongue to explore, which he eagerly did. He guided you to stand up, taking you with him as he moved you back toward the counter. He led the way with his hand to make sure the counter didn’t catch you off guard.

“Get on the counter," he panted in your ear, which made your panties instantly get soaked.

You shuffled to get yourself up as he positioned himself to stand in between your legs. He gripped your thighs, lifting underneath one of your knees as he pushed himself even closer to you. 

You tugged on his tie as you brought him in for another kiss, which elicited a moan from him. You felt him getting harder, prompting you to take his suit jacket off. He let it fall to the floor as you moved both hands to rest on the back of his neck, lightly scratching and gripping his curls. 

For his part, he kept his hands where they were – one cradling the back of your head, the other gripping your thigh so hard you knew it would leave a bruise, but you didn’t even care. 

There was a frenzy to your kiss, trying to tell each other how you felt by your actions rather than with words. Dieter kissed up and down your neck, remembering how much you liked it from earlier this morning. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your throat as he sucked ever so lightly under your ear. When his lips came back to yours to kiss again, you decided to give his bottom lip a little bite, hearing a low growl from the back of his throat.

You hadn’t really thought this through when you started – you weren’t sure how far you wanted to take things, fully aware that anyone could walk in at any second. Seeking out this type of physical comfort was not typical for you. It brought up thoughts of Ryan. A man, who never really comforted you; he never so much as gave you a hug after your dog died. But Dieter was different. He radiated empathy and warmth and you just wanted to be wrapped up in him. Your mind shut off as your body continued to take over. Moving your hands down his neck to his chest, making your way to his waist, untucking his shirt, and reaching for his belt. 

This time, it was Dieter who put a stop to things, pulling back slightly. He cradled your face with both of his hands, putting his forehead against yours as he caught his breath.

"I thought I told you earlier I don't like to feel rushed," he smiled as he kissed the tip of your nose followed by your forehead. His kisses were so tender, a departure from the hurried pace from just a few moments ago. 

The realization of what just happened hit you and you felt the anxiety and insecurity seeping back in after blocking it out.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His concern was etched all over his face.

“Sorry, I- I mean, I didn’t mean to just…attack you like that,” you shook your head, looking down.

“Baby, you can literally jump me anytime you want,” Dieter smirked, which made the corners of your mouth turn. “But seriously…I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re nothing other than beautiful kiss sexy kiss and special. You hear me?”

You blushed, shaking your head at him.

“Look, I’ve been doing this for like 20 years…before there was any social media. Those were the days,” he chuckled. “Anyway, I’ve had to develop a tough skin over the years which resulted in mostly avoiding it all. Honestly, Liz controls a lot of what I post these days since there’s promotional stuff I need to do. I don’t even want to be tempted by looking at it. I can only imagine the type of shit Indy must get.”

“Yea, she’s gotten some really shitty stuff too,” you offered.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t protect you from it. But don’t for one second believe any of that shit or take it to heart. I like spending time with you Belle, hell that’s why I asked Meredith if you could come do the photoshoot tomorrow instead of her.”

“Wait, what?” You had been freaking out about having to play Meredith all day on set tomorrow, it was giving you a lot of anxiety to have that much responsibility. 

“Yeah, I…uh…surprise! That was my demand,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought it would be fun. Spend the day together. Although I’ll warn you, Liz will be there,” he let out another nervous laugh. “Plus, I think it will be good for you to make some connections. This photographer knows a ton of people.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were shocked and flattered that he thought of you. 

“Wow, that’s awesome. Y-yea, I would love to do that. That is if you trust me with your hair.”

“Baby, I trust you with a lot more than my hair,” he rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

Your phone buzzing brought an abrupt halt to your moment. You checked your phone and it was Indy?

INDY: Color?

It was another one of your code words whenever one of you needed a moment to themselves. Since you didn’t need her to come rushing to you, you texted her back “green” so she knew everything was fine. In doing so, you looked at the time, realizing that lunch was probably going to end soon. That thought made your stomach grumble.

“Hey, let’s grab some lunch, yeah?” Dieter offered you his hand to get off the counter.

He tucked his shirt back in and put his jacket on as you smoothed your hair and checked your face in the mirror, giving yourself a quick touch-up, thanks to the endless supply of makeup at your disposal.

“So, does like everyone know?” You asked before you both left the safety of the makeup trailer.

Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah, y-yea. I think so. Is…is that ok? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable at work. I can ignore you when we’re on set if you want, but I really don’t want to do that.”

“I want to talk to Meredith first if that’s cool,” Dieter eagerly nodded. “And like, maybe we don’t like…make out in front of everyone like Indy and Sam,” you laughed. “But I don’t want to avoid you on set…I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

“Me neither. And I’m good with that.” He gave you a mischievous look. “But, since once we walk out this door, I won’t be able to do this for a while…” 

He cut himself off as he brought you in for another kiss. This one gave you goosebumps with the passion and gratitude you felt from Dieter. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And honestly, it felt like a little bit had been lifted off of yours too. While there were still things you wanted to talk to him about, to share about your past, knowing how much you meant to him made your heart sing. 

“You’re going to mess up my makeup and yours,” you giggled as you pulled away from him.

He rubbed a thumb across his lip. “Well, I’m lucky that you can always touch me up,” he winked.

“Oh my goodness,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “C’mon, let’s get out there. I’m starving and if Indy doesn’t see me within the next five minutes she’s going to come in here like a tornado.”

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: I hope you liked the little bit from Dieter’s perspective from the beginning. I realized it had been a while since we were with him like that.

As always, thank you for taking time out of your day to read my little story. With this one being my first fic ever, it’s super special to me. I appreciate all of the kind comments, reblogs, and likes …it makes my day!

Tag list: @musings-of-a-rose / @legendary-pink-dot / @bitchwitch1981 / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @gracie7209 / @amneris21 / @pastelnap / @maryfanson / @sunnywithachanceofjavi / @sin-djarin / @winchestergypsy90 / @for-a-longlongtime /@harriedandharrassed / @titlee78 / @midnightraain / @poodlebae

[artist-rat]

grabbing my da ocs to give them an og story in an og setting. testing some new looks. barbie meme is the first thing i draw

this has been my announcement

[helpimtrappedinthetextbox]

Mmm fnc fic idea forming

Mmmm modern day au

Mmmmmm chip yeeting himself outta windows bc he embarrassed himself in front of Gil when they met