#hi i forgot to tag the actual series

[birindale]

SHE-RA™

PRINCESS OF POWER™

© COPYRIGHT 1984 MATTEL, INC./FILMATION ASSOCIATES

The time for words is past.

It is time for action.

A time for the taking of vows, the forging of alliances against tyranny... a time for leadership.

For over twenty years, the EVIL HORDE have ruled Etheria with an iron fist and cruel calculation. Their rule has gone largely unchallenged — until now. A band of patriots, brought together by their love of freedom, have pledged their lives and their swords to bring down the dark dictators from another world, willing to tackle impossible odds in their quest for an ideal: Freedom.

Leading this band of patriots is SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER!

Twin sister to HE MAN, daughter to King Randor and Queen Marlena, it is she who will lead the assault on the invaders.

07044/100JMS

SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER will burst onto television screens in sixty-five daily installments of high fantasy and adventure brought to life in the long-standing tradition of quality associated with Filmation Studios, creators of the number one rated syndicated children's program, HE MAN AND THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE.

There will be action tempered by gentleness... adventure mixed with compassion... characters that will appeal to young girls as role models, without losing the interest of boys... rich in the currency of non-violent ideals. And other values — loyalty to friends and country, courage, bravery, honesty — will not be merely given lip service, but vividly displayed, and fiercely fought for.

The war is on at last... and they have barely begun to fight.

THE BATTLE IS JOINED

The story of SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER will debut with a sweeping five-part saga guest starring HE MAN, during which the viewers will learn the secret that could not be told until now. They will discover Adora, twin sister of Prince Adam, son of King Randor and Queen Marlena, who was stolen from her parents by THE HORDE while still an infant.

Taken to the distant planet Etheria, recently conquered by the Horde, Adora was raised in the dark ways of the Horde. Under the evil spell of SHADOW WEAVER, the Horde's dark enchantress, Adora’s sense of right and wrong was reversed, and in time the beautiful Adora grew to become the enforcer of Horde law on Etheria.

But the Horde's evil act of years ago caught up with them at last, when a strange twist of fate brought He Man to Etheria. When the most powerful man in the universe was brought face to face with the Horde's enforcer, each sensed something special about the other, something deep and buried, reaching out, trying to be reborn.

In that instant, the future history of Etheria was to be irrevocably changed.

Breaking through the years of conditioning, Adora was at last reunited with her brother... and when He Man gave Adora the miraculous sword — very much like his own, entrusted to him by the good Sorceress — Adora instinctively held it high and cried out the words she had never before heard: "For the honor of Grayskull!"

And with a brilliant flash, a surge of unparalleled power, where Adora had stood there now stood She-Ra, Princess of Power!

She-Ra, who has seen first-hand the horrors of the Horde, and who now knows that it must be stopped. She-Ra... who not only possesses awesome strength and agility, but has the power to heal, and who has a mystical empathy with man and beast. She-Ra... who deeply feels an obligation to her adopted planet.

And so, rather than return forever to Eternia, she elects to remain on Etheria, there to become leader of a dedicated band of patriots, fighters for freedom. United by their love of liberty, their loyalty to Etheria and to one another, they free their captured Queen and then set about the long task of reclaiming their birthright, their home... Etheria!

They will fight on, knowing that for as long as the fire of freedom burns within them —  an ideal that many of the younger have never enjoyed, and which is only a dim but wonderous memory in the minds of the older — they will find the strength to strike one more blow, seize one more inch, fight one more battle than the enemy can fight off. Like the drops of water that in time can crack a boulder or split a canyon, they will continue until the Horde is driven once and for all from their beloved homeland.

The story of SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER is at once ground breaking and rich in tradition. It is the story of Robin Hood, of the American Revolution; it is the Force behind Star Wars, for it deals with that rare quality we call freedom.

IMPACT

Once launched, the series will draw the attention of young girls across the country — for in SHE-RA they will find all of the qualities they hold close. Since the series also will include those factors that have made HE MAN a success, boys will also be attracted to the show. The series will highlight high fantasy and vivid characters, action and comedy, drama and gentleness — something for everyone. The result: a show with tremendous crossover appeal.

But that is not the full extent of the projected impact of SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER. Recognizing its responsibility to its young audience, Filmation Studios will impart to this new series the same emphasis on morality and justice as is currently being done in HE MAN AND THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE, which has received critical praise from educators and parents for its success in creating worthy role models for the young audience.

SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER will reinforce the fact that one person can make a difference. Man or woman, boy or girl, you have the potential to make the world a better place.

In addition, each episode will conclude with a supplementary message — variations on the themes of loyalty, courage, honesty, and the other values upon which so great a premium is put.

The variety of ways in which the messages will be imparted, and the different types of messages that can arise from such very different circumstances will serve as an excellent counterpoint to HE MAN. And like HE MAN from first concept to finished product, SHE-RA will involve the work of uniquely qualified advisors who will monitor the program and work with it in the best interests of the young audience. In the words of Educational and Psychological Consultant Donald F. Roberts, Professor at Stanford University:

She-Ra has an excellent chance to garner a new audience of females while retaining the large portion of the male audience He Man has already developed. The series will thus have the opportunity of reaching a new segment of the viewing audience with the kinds of pro-social messages you have been developing for the He Man show, while at the same time reinforcing those ideas among current He Man viewers.

The plan to present the pro-social messages in She-Ra in a novel and challenging way can engender a significant increase in learning among those children who view both shows.

He Man has demonstrated that it is possible to engage in worthwhile values training with no sacrifice of entertainment quality. I think She-Ra will continue the tradition.

Now that we have discussed what this series will strive to achieve, let us turn our attention to those we will be meeting each day in the universe of SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER .

THE WORLD AND PEOPLE OF ETHERIA

Etheria is a vibrant, colorful world rich with enchantment and wonder... a fantasyland of shining rivers, gleaming cities, snow-capped peaks... and surprises waiting behind every tree and hill.

Before the coming of the Horde, it was unspoiled, a place of fantasy and delightful mystery not unlike the world of Middle Earth made so popular in the works of J.R.R. Tolkien.

With the Horde came their machines — black engines of destruction that leave ruin in their wake.

The consequence is a contradiction. Side by side there exists the gentle world of Etheria, and the technological monstrosities of the Horde.

One of them will have to go.

Embodying the former is the magnificent, spired Palace of Power, dear to the heart of Etherians everywhere, and for the latter there are the vile swamps of the Horde's dreaded Fright Zone, a sight to strike fear in the heart of any but the most courageous Etherian.

The story of Etheria is a story of two worlds, two societies on a collision course... from which only one may emerge.

SHE-RA and her fellow patriots are determined that the survivor will be Etheria and her people.

And in addition to Adora/She-Ra, among the people of Etheria whom we will be seeing most regularly are these brave crusaders of freedom:

GLIMMER

A teenage Princess with limitless enthusiasm, Glimmer was once leader of the Rebellion. Glimmer uses light-based powers — light blasts, light walls, light ropes, etc. She is as brave as they come, though her age tends to make her reckless or gullible at times. Glimmer resides in the Palace of Power with her mother, Queen Angella.

THE TWIGGETS

Twiggets are Munchkin-like little guys and gals who inhabit the Whispering Woods, the site of the rebel camp. Twiggets are rebel allies and a staunch little bunch they are. Twiggets are brimming over with clever tricks which they use to good effect against the Horde nasties. They are very good at blending into forest terrain so as to become virtually invisible. Twiggets love company, and music, and animals. An odd thing about Twiggets is that all their names begin with the letters "SP." Sample Twiggets are Sprig and Sprocket (males,) and Sprinkle (female), but there can be many more as needed.

WILLAWAND

Willawand is a handsome beanpole of a man who is a travelling entertainer. He sings, he tells stories, he works stage magic (not the real McCoy, just sleight of hand tricks). His love of freedom prompted him to join the Rebellion and his ebullient, ham actor personality does much to lighten the load. In a battle, he is reckless and cunning, and he and Bow are good comrades.

BOW

A master archer who likes nothing more than a good donnybrook with Hordesmen, Bow is handsome, reckless, daring — a hero's hero. Bow rides a swift, black stallion named Streak and has a most curious companion, a butterfly-winged owl named:

KOWL

You've heard of the wise old owl. Well, now meet Kowl, the wise-guy owl. This little bird may look cute, but he's got a tongue as sharp as She-Ra's sword. And he uses it constantly. Kowl is always ready to remind Bow and the others of how much he knows and how little they know, and he's got an insufferable habit of being right.

QUEEN ANGELLA

Queen Angella is the monarch of the Kingdom of Bright Moon, the first kingdom to be freed from Horde clutches by the Rebellion. She is a glamorous, blonde woman, with angel wings that unfold from her back so she can fly. Her magic is very powerful, light-based like her daughter Glimmer's, but she has much more control of it. Queen Angella, despite her youthful appearance, is something of a mother figure to the Rebels. She is very wise, very regal, a true Queen of Etheria.

FROSTA

Frosta is the Ice Empress, dressed in gorgeous ice blue attire. She is the ruler of the Kingdom of Snows and can "quick freeze" enemies with the mere pointing of her crystalline arm. Frosta is otherwise a normal human female, with one flesh and blood arm and one crystalline arm.

CASTASPELLA

As her name implies, Castaspella is a worker of magic. Her power comes from a strange, star shaped disk on her back which spins gaily when she weaves one of her magicks. Castaspella can paralyze someone in his or her tracks, create a "window" out of thin air through which faraway places may be viewed, set up a mystic shield which deflects magic bolts and the like, wrap foes in bands of force, and fly through the air like a comet. Castaspella is known as the Wizard Queen and rules the whimiscal Kingdom of Mystacor, a place brimming over with enchantment and magic. She tends to be a bit flighty at times and would rather seek adventure than deal with affairs of state. She is known as Cass or Casta to her friends, Frosta and Queen Angella being her nearest and dearest of these.

MADAME RAZZ*

This lovable old crone is the wackiest worker of magic to ever whip up a spell. Madame is so old she's quite forgotten her age. Her spells are quite effective, though she has a small problem — she tends to say the wrong word, making the results not quite what she expected. For instance, while casting a spell to put some foes to sleep, she said "sheep" instead, and wound up with a whole flock of them. Madame also has a bit of trouble with her eyesight and sense of direction, making every one of her flying landings (Madame flies on a broom. More about that in a minute) an adventure in itself. Madame's best friend and, coincidentally, her mode of transportation is:

*NOTE: Since Madame Razz long predates the arrival of the Horde, she has had a lot of personal experience with pre-Horde Etheria — she has seen kings and empires rise and fall, acts of bravery and treachery — plenty of fodder in this for stories of Old Etheria.

BROOM

Imagine a dilapidated old broomstick with an old duffer face and voice, walking around on his bristles. This is Broom. Broom is Madame Razz's life-long buddy. They've been together for centuries and are very close. Broom prompts Madame when she messes up a spell (usually when it's too late) and flies her wherever she wants to go.

Unfortunately, Broom is just about as nearsighted as Madame, the reason for their often comically disastrous landings.

SPIRIT/SWIFTWIND

Spirit is Adora's horse, a dappled mare. When Adora becomes She-Ra, Spirit transforms into a flying unicorn named Swiftwind. In this guise Spirit can take She-Ra wherever she wishes to go, and communicate with her telepathically.

And arrayed against our heroine freedom-fighters are the massed, technological might of THE HORDE, the most colorful villains ever assembled on one planet, in one series. Elements of the confrontation between the two sides will provide opportunity for light comedy, and the villains will be treated in serio-comic fashion. They are...

HORDAK

Hordak is leader of the Horde, and a rottener, meaner guy never lived. Hordak is a master schemer and has the power to change parts of his heavily-armored body into new shapes and uses. He can turn his hand into a buzz-saw or a battle-axe or a laser pistol. He can switch his legs into tank treads or become a mini-missile if he so chooses. He's happy with his lot as ruler of Etheria and wants to keep it that way, hence he hates nothing more than She-Ra and her outrageous Rebels. He is aided and abetted in his schemes against our Princess of Power by his evil magician:

SHADOW WEAVER

Shadow Weaver is the stuff of which nightmares are made. She is a completely mysterious figure, the only thing we ever see of her being a pair of baleful red eyes peering out from the darkness of a cowled cloak. Shadow Weaver glides around through the air in this cloak, never touching ground, and wisps of shadow constantly waft up around her. She works dark magicks that are extremely powerful and is dreaded by all.

LEECH

As his name implies, Leech is a lizardy creature with sucker discs on his hands and feet and a huge sucker mouth. He can use these discs to climb the sheerest height or attach them to a foe to drain energy. Ooooh, he's scary. And ugly, too .

SCORPIA

Speaking of ugly, this lady takes the prize. Attired in scaly armor and possessed of tremendous strength, Scorpia can use her pincer claws to rip out walls, or employ her stinger tail to paralyze an enemy. Fortunately, she's thick as a brick and thus easily foiled by a foe with some intelligence.

GRIZZLOR

This furry, tusked villain is the Horde's main prison keeper. He's a gruff, toadying type, and thoroughly afraid of Hordak. He has more than his share of bludgeoning power, but is more apt to run from a fight than get into one. Unless, of course, Hordak orders him to. Then he will fight like a berserker if only to stave off his master's wrath.

IMP

You might call Imp the Horde's comic relief. At roughly six inches in height, he's not about to terrorize anyone. However, he can change his normal floppy-earred, devil-tailed shape into any configuration, so he makes a quite effective spy. He can appear as a goblet on a table, the hilt of a sword, the brooch on a Queen's dress, or any other small item. He is also the only Horde member who actually dares to make jokes about Hordak, though Hordak greets such jests with less than enthusiasm.

When these two forces, the very embodiment of good and evil, confront one another, anything can happen. There may be stories of great bravery, of cunning in the face of superior technology, of personal loyalty. There may be excursions into the world of high fantasy, and into the depths of high-tech menace.

Drawing on the diverse backgrounds of the many characters, the many villages, kingdoms, and states that comprise Etheria, and the need for this group to travel from place to place in order to stay one step ahead of the plans of the Horde, the possibilities for story lines are almost without limit.

The stories will, though, be unified by their emphasis on humor and warmth. There will be some personal stories, stories of romance and comedy, adventures of epic scope, and tales of magic. In many situations, She-Ra will not rely on strength alone to accomplish her missions, demonstrating that might doesn't necessarily make right. So while there will be action aplenty, the emphasis will be on the cleverness and charismatic leadership of She-Ra and her followers.

Because of the emphasis on personal stories growing out of our characters' every day lives, feelings, and histories, our audience will have a far greater opportunity to get to know the characters in this series than on any other.

There will also be crossover shows between SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER and HE MAN AND THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE, further feeding the popularity of each show, and luring audiences from one show to the other.

Here are just a few examples of the types of stories that will comprise SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER:

A little girl idolizes She-Ra, but when the Princess of Power's healing ability fails to save the little girl's pet from a serious disease, the little girl's love turns to hate. She-Ra must show the girl that while we cannot always live up to the expectations of others, there are times when those expectations themselves are false.

Madame Razz's friend Broom is stolen from her. She does everything in her power to find Broom but cannot, and must enlist the aid of She-Ra and the Rebels. Highlighted in the story is the friendship between Madame and Broom and the cooperation of our various characters as they work to bring Madame and Broom together once more.

The Horde is capturing Etherian animals and using their super science to turn them into dangerous monsters. She-Ra and the Rebels must stop this with the added complication of having to battle innocent creatures made savage by the Horde.

Bow wants to enter a horse race competition that is held each year in the Kingdom of Alver. Bow has won this race the past few years and is reigning champion. However, now that he is a known Rebel, to enter the race would not only put him in jeopardy, but the whole Rebellion as well. On the other hand, if Bow does not ride in the race, he will lose his own self-esteem. She-Ra and friends must figure out a way to allow Bow to ride while at the same time keeping the Horde occupied elsewhere.

The Horde imports a diabolical female named Huntara from their home world whose mission is to hunt down Adora and She-Ra (not knowing that they are one and the same). The catch is that Huntara is an old friend of Adora’s — they trained together as little girls when Adora was still under Horde control. Adora does not want to harm her old friend, but neither can she allow her to endanger the Rebellion. In the end, it is their one-time friendship that turns the tide and causes Huntara to give up service to the Horde.

CONCLUSIONS - AND BEGINNINGS

Because it emphasizes entertainment with responsibility, SHE-RA, PRINCESS OF POWER will be one of the most — perhaps the most — dynamic television series for children currently on the air, rivaled only by the phenomenally successful HE MAN AND THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE.

It will be a series of magic and fantasy, adventure and courage in the face of overwhelming odds.

It will entertain...

educate...

elevate.

It is a story that reaches deep into our souls, where our hopes for the underdog, for those who stand against the wind and are determined to fight for the rights of those who cannot fight for themselves, are kept and nurtured.

It is, in short, an attempt to teach the children to recognize the face of personal courage...

... and to realize that it's the same face that looks back at them from the mirror.

SHERA, PRINCESS OF POWER

BACKGROUND INFO

BASIC CONCEPT: "Shera, Princess of Power" is a light-hearted, action-adventure fantasy designed with strong kid appeal. The key words are light-hearted and fantasy, for while action is a necessity, it's those elements that will make the show fly. Stories should have mounds of humor, sentiment, magic, and just a trace of romance. Steer clear of combat-oriented stories, and when combat does occur, take pains to make our heroine's cleverness and dexterity the winning feature rather than sheer strength. Use magic over sword-slinging, and fill your tales with color and wonder.

Women should play a major role in all stories, not only Shera and her super-powered friends and enemies, but women of all kinds. Don't neglect our male characters. They are important too, just don't surrender to the macho-syndrome of many cartoons in which the females are wispy Princesses always in need of rescue. Strive always for a true equality of characters, thinking of our people as just that, people, regardless of sex differences .

06264/107LD

BACKGROUND: "Shera, Princess of Power" is set on a planet known as ETHERIA. As its name implies, Etheria is a beautiful place, very natural, very charming, very enchanted. It is filled with verdant forests, shining rivers, white-capped mountains, gleaming rain forests, ethereal cities, and small, pleasant villages and towns. It has the feel of King Arthur's England melded with a bit of Middle Earth, a touch of Cloud CuckooLand, and a dash of Oz. Its a low-tech world, people don't carry ray guns or flit about in rocket-powered vehicles. Transportation is by horse, by wagon, by sailing ship. If flying transportation is part of a story it will probably consist of some flying beast rather than a high-tech flying ship.

The exception to all of the above is the villains of our show, the collection of slimy nasties known as THE HORDE.

The Horde are the conquerors of Etheria, but are not native to the planet. They came there some twenty-odd years ago from another world (see Character Sketches for more background). The Horde is a high-tech band. They use flyers for travel from place to place and are able to bring to bear such equipment as Destructo Tanks, Bat-Meks (robot planes), Stunner Cannons, Energy Batons (truncheons that fire beams), and anything else you care to create. It is precisely this terrible technology that allowed the Horde to triumph over the kingdoms of Etheria. The Horde controls the planet and their places of operation are always dark and grim and ugly. In essence, think of it as smoking industrial complexes set down in otherwise organic terrain.

In the five part story that introduced Shera and her friends, we saw the Horde's first set-back, the taking of the kingdom of Bright Moon by a group known simply as the Great Rebellion. The seat of power of Bright Moon is a large, gorgeous, enchanted castle known as the PALACE OF POWER. Here dwells Queen Angella and her daughter Glimmer (see Character Sketches). Shera and her brother, He Man, were instrumental in the taking of Bright Moon, but this was only the beginning of our saga. As the show develops, we will see the Great Rebellion spread to the other kingdoms of Etheria even as the Horde tries to stop it once and for all. This back story of the reclaiming of a world is the skeleton of our show, but the flesh that covers this skeleton will take many varied directions. We do not want a heavy hero vs. villain approach in every story, nor do we wish to dwell on the "Horde oppression" in a grim manner. Indeed, many tales may not even deal with the Horde, though they are certainly around when a villain or two is needed.

SOCIAL SET-UP OF ETHERIA: Etheria is divided into numerous small kingdoms, each independent of the other. Bright Moon is one such kingdom, Mystacor (ruled by Castaspella — see Character Sketches) another. Outside of the kingdoms currently part of the Rebellion (Bright Moon, Mystacor, and the Kingdom of Snows), the various kingdoms are nominally under Horde rule. Some have actual Hordesmen governors (e.g. the Kingdom of Woodsedge is ruled by Terrora, a Horde villainess), most are run by native Etherians controlled by the Horde's might. The Horde keeps the kingdoms in line through one major factor, stark fear. As for the Horde itself, its headquarters is a dismal tower located in a dark, brooding region of Etheria known as FRIGHT ZONE. Here Hordak dwells, keeping an eye on his turf.

The various kingdoms do trade with each other and are in the main friendly to each other. Of course it would be against Horde law for a kingdom to have any dealings with the Great Rebellion, so kingdoms won by the rebels are somewhat isolated. Each kingdom would have either a major city or some seat of power, a castle, a tower, etc. They would also have towns and villages.

Etheria is at heart a pastoral world, its major occupations being farming and herding. There are mines as well, all of them controlled by the Horde who are systematically plundering the wealth of Etheria. Fishing is another major occupation, confined, of course, to the seaside kingdoms. There are many islands off the main continent of Etheria that constitute small kingdoms in themselves, or sometimes several islands in a chain will be considered one kingdom. Other occupations include travelling merchants, bards, foresters, jewelers, and of course magicians.

As regards the people of Etheria, consider them a widely varied group made up of many colors and backgrounds. Moreover, since Etheria is a world of faerie, non-human races are certainly possible, e.g. cat-people, insect-people, bear-people, etc. Attire will depend on prevailing terrain and weather (you wouldn't expect to find desert dwellers wearing parkas), but as a general rule people of Etheria will wear very bright, colorful garments made of organic materials. Etherian weapons will be standard medieval melee weapons, swords, spears, maces, bow and arrow, etc., but most Etherians will not carry weapons. Likewise Etherians will seldom go around in any sort of heavy armor, in fact at best chain-mail and shield (usually reserved for guardsmen in the various royal palaces). A light, non-violent look and feel should always be maintained. As there are always exceptions to any rule, there is an exception to the light, non-violent look, namely the Horde. Hordesmen are always bristling with weaponry, usually of the high-tech variety, and always have a dark, foreboding look, whether cloaked in standard Horde Trooper uniforms or in the heavier armor favored by Horde supervillains.

An important factor to keep in mind in the social set-up of Etheria is that the Horde has ruled the planet for a significantly long period of time. What this means in terms of story is that not every Etherian is on the side of the Great Rebellion. Indeed, it's much more logical to assume that rebels make up a small minority at this point in time. In many cases, Etherians may very well support the Horde, either out of fear of reprisal or simply through acceptance of enforced authority. Therefore, in one episode, an Etherian village may welcome rebel forces with open arms, while in another story villagers may actually betray our protagonists. By maintaining this "shades of grey" concept, instead of a black and white approach, we provide our story tellers with more scope.

GEOGRAPHY OF ETHERIA: Etheria is very Earth-like in terms of its geography. In other words, a mixture of mountains, plains, deserts, forests, jungles, ice fields, etc. Stories can be set in any type of terrain, the only exception being outer atmosphere, i.e. space. Though the Horde definitely has interstellar travel capability, stories set exclusively in space should be avoided. This does not mean the Horde could not pose some threat from space, only that the bulk of the story should take place planetside. In dealing with the natural environment of a story, please maintain a respect for the physical laws of nature. Rivers start in mountains and flow to the sea, they don't just crop up where convenient. Swamps do not have cliffs in them, nor do they adjoin steaming deserts. In the LOCALES section of the bible, we will be naming some of the natural sites on Etheria. However, writers are free to contribute new locales to the Etherian map, as needed.

CHARACTERS: There are a large number of characters involved in the show, good guys and bad guys alike. These characters are detailed in the CHARACTER SKETCHES included in this bible. However, keep in mind that not every character need appear in every show. Indeed, shows that follow just a few characters work better. Certainly every story must include Shera (and by logical assumption her alter-ego Adora), but the rest of the cast can and should revolve frequently. You can also feature people in the cast rather heavily, so long as Shera remains involved. This means it's possible to do a story featuring Glimmer, or Bow, or Madame Razz, or any other character, but our heroine must be instrumental in some way. The same applies to our nasty villains. If Catra makes our heroine's life miserable in one show, in another it may be Mantenna or Leech who carries forth the machinations of evil. Our list of "regulars" is certainly extensive enough for writers to choose the character or characters that best fit a story. Writers may create their own characters for the show (at times this will be a necessity, in fact), but we suggest steering clear of coming up with a new supervillain for the Horde or a new superhero for the Rebellion. Let's face it, gang, we’ve got plenty, and until we adequately cover them over the course of a show, there's no reason to haul in another.

LOCALES: Here are some areas of Etheria, useful in planning stories.

THE PALACE OF POWER — This magnificent edifice is the home of Queen Angella and her daughter Glimmer. It is a fantastic bit of real estate, composed of gleaming stone walls with an overriding avian motif. It is a place of powerful magic, good magic. The Palace constitutes the seat of power in the kingdom of Bright Moon. (You might think of the Palace as the capital of Bright Moon.) Its magical force, which only Queen Angella can control to its fullest extent, makes the Palace virtually immune to anything but an all-out Horde attack. The Horde avoids such an attack because of the feeling toward Queen Angella in the other kingdoms of Etheria. Their reasoning is that to attack Angella could urge kingdoms not yet part of the Rebellion to join it, because Angella is popular with other rulers. Therefore, the Horde counts instead on subtle subversion of Angella's realm. Many magical devices and vehicles are housed in the Palace of Power, ready for use by the rebels.

WHISPERING WOODS — The Whispering Woods is a large, enchanted forest in the kingdom of Bright Moon. It is also home to the Great Rebellion. Adora, Madame Razz , Bow, Kowl, the Twiggets, and all the other rebels reside in Whispering Woods. The enchanted nature of the forest makes it impossible for the Horde to locate the rebel camp, for the woods actually twist and turn about anyone entering them who is not a part of the cause of good. The Woods also resist destruction attempts by the Horde (fire bombs, rays, etc.) and the dark, dreadful spells of Horde magic workers like Shadow Weaver. The Whispering Woods is, in fact, the focal point of the lines of magic power which run all over Etheria. Given this fact, it is logical that visitors from other dimensions (such as He Man) will appear either in or very close to the Whispering Woods.

THE VILLAGE OF THAYMOR  — This small, pleasant village is typical of Etherian hamlets. Village social life revolves around the Council Hall and the Laughing Swan Inn. The people of Thaymor are mainly in farm related occupations (farmers, tanners, wheelwrights, etc.). Thaymor is also located in the kingdom of Bright Moon.

THE FRIGHT ZONE — a dual term, it refers to both the sinister tower keep where Hordak resides, and the surrounding land area. One thing characterizes the Fright Zone — it's scary! The tower itself is a massive edifice of dark stone with eerie asymmetrical looks. Inside, there are pictures whose eyes follow people down the hall, spiders and snakes scuttling and slithering around the corridors, chains rattling, mysterious screams, ghostly apparitions, fluttering bats — in short, the tower is like a massive haunted mansion. The tower is surrounded by a huge moat in which dwell the most horrid underwater creatures imaginable. The terrain of Fright Zone is swampy, boggy, fully as horrid as the tower itself. Monsters roam freely, there are dire plants and natural perils, it is ugly in the extreme. Most people would think twice before braving the Zone. While Fright Zone in essence is a kingdom unto itself, it is also bordered and buffered by three evil Kingdoms: DARKEDGE, CRIMSON WASTE, and SKULLPATH. These kingdoms are all ruled by evil Etherians who collaborate wholeheartedly with the Horde.

BEAST ISLAND — Beast Island is a semi-tropical isle far out in the Growling Sea. Many monstrous things walk the island and it is perilous. Beast Island houses one of many Horde prisons, prisons in which valuable captives are incarcerated and interrogated. You can consider the island the Horde's equivalent of a state pen.

THE KINGDOM OF SNOWS — This is another Etherian kingdom, located high in the Dreaming Mountains. The Kingdom of Snows is ruled by Frosta, the Ice Empress (see Character Sketches). As its name implies, it is a kingdom of snow and ice, its people living in large, almost igloo-like structures, the most magnificent of which is Frosta’s own Castle Chill.

THE KINGDOM OF MYSTACOR — Mystacor is a magical kingdom presided over by Castaspella the Wizard Queen (see Character Sketches). The laws of reality have little to do with Mystacor, where everything works in a magical fashion. It is the home of many magical types, not all of them on the up and up.

THE VALLEY OF THE LOST — A dread valley in which prehistoric monsters roam and the terrain is either deadly stark or menacingly primordial. It is located far to the east near the lip of the SIZZLING DESERT. It is not a place you would expect anyone to hang around in (good guys or Hordesmen), but is useful as a locale for stories involving ancient ruins and objects of interest from Etheria's dim past.

SINGING RIVER — Singing River is the chief waterway of Etheria. It snakes the length of the entire main continent before emptying into the Southern Sea. Barges or galleys ply its course frequently, and the various towns dotting its banks are usually lively places where people from many different kingdoms meet.

THE GROWLING SEA — Already mentioned as the spot where Beast Island is located. The Growling Sea to the west of Etheria's main continent is the largest Etherian sea and can be quite rough at times (hence its name). Other seas are the Southern Sea, the mysterious Sea of Sighs (an inland sea), and the Cracking Sea.

STORYLINES

The heart of any show is its stories, and on "Shera, Princess of Power" this is all the more true. As already stated, though the background of the show is the struggle between the Horde and the Great Rebellion, stories need not fall into a constant pattern of "the Rebels do this, the Horde does that." Also to be avoided are shows based on mere MacGuffins or gimmicks, e.g. if Shera can find the Mystic Kazoo of Wazoo, the Rebellion will be able to defeat the Horde decisively. Such stories are possible, but they must have much, much more than that to go. So what do we want? First and foremost, characterization. Study the characters you have to work with, find their appealing or troubling qualities, and build stories around that.

Examples would be:

Shera is idolized by a young girl who then changes her mind about our heroine when Shera's healing power fails to save the young girl's pet from some disease or accident. Shera must then show the little girl that while we do not always live up to the expectations of others, those expectations themselves can sometimes be false.

Madame Razz loses Broom and must get him back. This story works on several levels, i.e it will show the depth of the relationship between Madame and Broom, allow Shera to use her abilities to find Broom, and present a good bit of comedy interaction.

Bow wants to race his stallion Streak in an upcoming horse race in the Kingdom of AIver. However, as an outlaw, Bow would be putting his neck on the line by making such a public appearance. If Bow goes he could also be putting the whole Rebellion in jeopardy. If he doesn't, he loses some of his own self-esteem. He must also disobey direct orders from the Rebellion leaders to do this thing, a further enhancement of the character value in the story.

When you're thinking of tales for the show, think fantasy, not sword and sorcery or science-fiction. Those elements do exist in the show, but we are not going to emphasize them overmuch. A good fairy tale is a better source of inspiration for this show than an episode of Star Wars. Keep those stories simple, accent action but not violence, and make the characters live and breathe, for us and for yourself .

From time to time, we will be doing crossover stories between "Shera, Princess of Power" and "He Man and the Masters of the Universe." In such stories Shera and one or two of her friends may pop into Eternia, or He Man and some of his cronies may wind up on Etheria. Since the two planets are in different dimensions, this is always accomplished through a magic spell (a dimensional gate, for example) rather than by space travel. However, unless the writer is very conversant with both shows, we don't suggest coming up with crossovers, for obvious reasons.

SHERA, PRINCESS OF POWER

CHARACTER SKETCHES

SHERA AND FRIENDS

SHERA — He Man's twin sister. Shera is a beautiful woman with long, wild, golden hair. She is sleeker than He Man (i.e. not as muscular looking), but every bit as powerful. Any stunt He Man could accomplish Shera could do as well. In addition, she has other powers, to wit:

LIMITED HEALING BY TOUCH — Shera can transmit a golden aura that heals. Always works on animals, may work on people.

EMPATHY — she can sense the feelings of people and animals by concentrating. (Note: she cannot "read minds," only pick up sensations of feeling, e.g. this animal is hungry or frightened, that person is sad or angry.)

Shera also has an alter ego...

ADORA — Unlike Prince Adam, Adora is not considered irresponsible or reckless. She is tied strongly to nature, to the trees, the earth, the sky, as indeed Shera is. There is also a strong sympathy and tie with animals.

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BOW — Bow is a handsome, dark haired, roguish sort of chap, a little irresponsible (he and Adam would get along fine). He is a crack shot with bow and arrow, but has no super or magical powers. He rides a stallion named STREAK. He is more than a little fond of Shera/Adora. He also has a companion/pet named...

KOWL — Kowl is a butterfly-winged owl who speaks in pompous tones. He is above action and derring do, but he has the ability to sense danger, figure out complex puzzles and in general use his wise old owl wisdom to the Rebellion's benefit (though he makes a quick exit- during a melee). He is almost like a conscience to Bow, always berating him for one irresponsible action or another. Kowl should be a strong comic figure.

SPIRIT/SWIFT WIND — Spirit is Shera's dappled mare, a steed she has ridden since childhood. But when Adora becomes Shera, she transforms Spirit, just as He Man transforms Cringer into Battlecat. When the transformation is complete, Spirit becomes a winged unicorn with gleaming silver horn and hooves, attired in fashionable battle armor. The name of this unicorn is SWIFT WIND, of course. As an added attraction, Swift Wind is able to communicate with Shera telepathically (in a silvery, fluid female voice). Neither Spirit nor Swift Wind actually speaks.

MADAME RAZZ — Madame Razz is the Witch of the Woods . She has forgotten her age, but reckons it at near one thousand or so. She is about three feet tall, with a double pointed, goofy-looking witch's hat on her head and a pair of square granny glasses, thick as coke bottles, over her eyes. She rides a dilapidated broom that talks, but unfortunately is as nearsighted as she is. The trees shudder when Madame takes off on a flight because she is bound to bounce off a few before she reaches her destination. Madame Razz has probably forgotten more spells than she knows, but she can usually come up with some sort of magic to bail Shera out of a situation. At the same time, her magic can be very unpredictable, a situation helped by the fact that she often throws the wrong word into a spell (e.g. she really did intend to put those villains to sleep, but said sheep instead. So she turned them all to sheep. Worked out, if not quite the way she planned). Madame Razz is a cherry old crone, always looking on the br ight side. And when villain threatens Shera and the Rebels, she can be counted on to supply her own wacky brand of Razzle dazzle.

BROOM — Broom is Madame Razz's friend and transportation Broom is a broom (logical, isn't it?), but he's like no broom you've ever used to sweep your floors with. First of all, he speaks. And he flies. And he walks. Broom’s personality is that of a competent old duffer, someone who’s seen and heard a lot over his many years with the wacky Madame. He has a little face located near the top of his handle, and wears tiny spectacles and sports a beard . He walks on his bristles (like the walking brooms in Disney's Sorcerer's Apprentice segment of Fantasia), but prefers levitating along, using his flying power. Madame Razz always "pilots" broom when they fly, and this generally makes for a comic catastrophe since both Madame and Broom are somewhat nearsighted. Broom is not forgetful like Madame, so he often prompts her on spells or information she's not quite sure of. He also spots her mistakes (unfortunately only after they happen) but at least Broom knows why they happened! Madame and Broom are the best of friends, and their relationship is fertile ground for stories .

THE TWIGGETS — Short, plump, comical little folk who inhabit the woods of Etheria. They are good friends of Madame Razz and thoroughly frightened of the Horde and its villains. They are very good at blending into forest terrain to spy on a villain or pull some trick. And Twiggets are brimming over with tricks. There are Twiggets all over Etheria, and any number can appear as needed. Twiggets LOVE company, so they seldom travel alone. They can be shy with strangers, though generally not for long. As friends of Shera and the Rebels, they add a touch of comedy to the story. Twiggets we have met so far are Sprig, Sprockett (male Twiggets), and Sprinkle (female Twigget).

GLIMMER — This brash, impulsive, terminally cheery young lady is one of the deposed Princesses of Etheria, a fact she never lets anyone forget. Glirmer has light-based powers, enabling her to teleport as a beam of light (range about ten miles), throw stunning light blasts, cause flashes of light to disorient her enemies, and create things out of solidified light (ladders, battering rams, etc.). Glimmer's power comes from a magnificent jewel in her palm, an energy source that is not without limits. She must expose it to bright light for three hours every day to keep it charged and can easily run out of enough power if she does too many things in too short a space of time. GIimmer has multi-colored eyes and hair and breath-taking attire. Her recklessness often causes problems and her age and inexperience make her the perfect dupe for scheming villains. She is a fun character, someone who can laugh through the most dire of circumstances and pass on her good cheer to her comrades.

These characters constitute the "regular cast" of Shera, Princess of Power.

As on He Man, Shera has a band of heroines to help her out as needed, popping into and out of shows exactly as Ram Man, Stratos, Mekaneck, etc., do on He Man. Here are a few of them:

ANGELLA — Queen of the Kingdom of Bright Moon. Angella is Glimmer's mother  She is a sorceress-warrior. Her beautiful, glittering costume contains expanding wings which enable her to fly. A little older than the other rebels, she is a character to whom people often turn for guidance and leadership.

FROSTA — The Ice Empress, dressed in gorgeous ice blue attire. She is the ruler of the Kingdom of Snows and can "quick freeze" enemies with the mere pointing of her crystalline arm. Frosta is otherwise a normal human female, with one flesh-and-blood arm and one crystalline arm.

CASTASPELLA — As her name implies, Castaspella is a worker of magic. Her power comes from a strange, star shaped disk on her back which spins gaily when she weaves one of her magicks. Castaspella can paralyze someone in his or her tracks, create a "window" out of thin air through which faraway places may be viewed, set up a mystic shield which deflects magic bolts and the like, enwrap foes in bands of force, and fly through the air like a comet. Castaspella is known as the Wizard Queen and rules the whimsical kingdom of Mystacor, a place brimming over with enchantment and magic. She tends to be a bit flighty at times and would rather seek adventure than deal with affairs of state. She is known as Cass or Casta to her friends, Frosta and Queen Angella being her nearest and dearest of these. She is the perfect character to be involved in stories dealing with magic items or effects or places.

WILLAWAND — This handsome beanpole of a man is a travelling entertainer whose most prized possession is his freedom. It is because of this that Willawand joined the rebellion (not typical, since he isn't a joiner). Willawand is a teller of tales, a songster, and a stage magician (note that he doesn't do real magic, only sleight-of-hand tricks). He tends to ham it up in the most mundane of situations and is positively florid during crises situations. He is a very creative fighter and reckless enough to be a good friend of Bow's, though Kowl and he have an on-the-edge relationship, constantly trying to one-up each other. Typical of Willawand's tricks is the use of flashpowder to “disappear”from enemy hands or the firing of small knock-out darts from his bard's harp. His dress is outrageously flamboyant, multi-colored tunics and breeks, a floppy hat with a huge plume, etc. He is very acrobatic and not likely to carry weapons, though he is probably better with a sword than most of the rebels.

DOUBLE TROUBLE — Double Trouble is Glimmer's cousin. She comes from the Kingdom of Green Glade and functions as the chief spy of the rebellion. Double's forte is disguise, and she can look like almost anyone with a little time. She is very dextrous and can squeeze herself into almost impossibly tiny spaces or climb the sheerest of walls to carry out her missions. She is not much of a fighter, though her agility makes her a good dodger. No disguise is beyond her. She can look like an aged king one moment, or a Horde villainess the next. She can also change her voice to suit her disguise. Double can fast talk her way out of the tightest spots and is very effective against the Horde, whom she adamantly hates. This stems from the fact that she plays Horde supporter in her normal guise, the better to spy on them when the time comes. She is often mistrusted by Etherians not in the know for this very reason.

SHERA PRINCESS OF POWER

CHARACTER SKETCHES

THE EVIL HORDE

THE EVIL HORDE is a generic term for a collection of bad guys who have totally overwhelmed the planet of Etheria. The Horde are, in effect, the rulers of Etheria and an iron-handed rule it is. The Evil Horde are not natives of Etheria. They come from a strange world known only as HordeWorld. This world is the hub of a vast conquered empire, of which Etheria is only one component. The mysterious ruler of HordeWorld (his identity will remain a secret throughout the show) keeps tabs on all the planets under Horde control and woe betide the appointed ruler of a planet if Horde interests are not served there. In the five part show, we will concentrate on the "regular" cast of Horde villains without too much attention to the Horde’s background. While the regular Horde council membrs will not be vanquished, keep in mind that the Horde can call upon an infinite number of minions. You may beat five of their worst one day, but you can bet the Horde council will send five more on the following day. And now let's take a quick look at the folks you’ll love to hate:

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HORDAK — Encased in heavy black battle armor, HORDAK is the man who rules Etheria in the name of the Evil Horde. As might be expected, he is rotten to the core, thoroughly ruthless, and thoroughly dedicated to keeping Etheria and its residents under his black-gloved thumb. Hordak's philosophy is might makes right, and he takes every opportunity he can to carry this philosophy out. He is a master schemer, cool and calculating, except when his schemes go awry, in which case his temper generally gets the better of him. Hordak is in reality part organic person and part machine. This is emphasized in his modular ability, i.e. he has the power to actually change pieces of his body to any desired configuration. Thus he might turn himself into a mini tank by switching to his tank tread legs and cannon arms, into a flying dreadnaught by attaching a jet pack and glider wings, or he might simply attach various weaponry to himself to succeed in a personal battle. These changes are lightning quick, controlled by Hordak's "on board computer," an integral part of his armor. Hordak totally hates Shera and her friends and constantly seeks to end the threat of the most powerful woman in the universe. Hordak fears nothing, with the single exception of HORDE PRIME, the mysterious figure who rules HordeWorld. Since Hordak is in essence the governor of Etheria, Horde Prime is constantly checking on the job he is doing, via the special monitor in Hordak’s quarters. Thus should Shera destroy a Horde outpost, or prevent a shipment of valuable research material from Etheria to HordeWorld, it is very likely Hordak will be getting a chewing out from his exalted leader.

SHADOW WEAVER — Every Evil Horde needs an evil magician and Shadow Weaver is that. Shadow Weaver is a mysterious cowled figure, a female, whose main feature is a pair of evil red eyes that seem to float in the darkness of her cowl. Shadow Weaver can work rituals that gain the Horde information, and use her magic aggressively, throwing Shadow Blasts, Coils of Shadow (bands of darkness for subduing foes), changing her form into living shadow (like a mist that can move under doors, through cracks, etc.), or becoming the image of some other person. The sight of Shadow Weaver fills most people with a chilling dread. She is very valuable to the Horde since she can sense the workings of magic and to some extent predict the future.

CATRA — A whole lot of evil in a deceptively petite and pretty package. Catra looks like a normal female most of the time, but when she dons her mask of power she becomes a fierce catwoman, complete with sharp claws. In this guise she has all the stealth, agility, and cunning of a feline, which she uses to good effect on behalf of the Evil Horde. She can also control any feline species to do her bidding, even the mighty Battlecat! Definitely not a lady to fool around with. Catra replaced Adora as Horde Force Captain (see Shera character sketches). She will be a major adversary.

MANTENNA — Truly a bizzare figure, this heavily-armored villain's eyes are mounted on retractable stalks that emerge right from the eye sockets in his head. He can use his eyes to peer over things or around corners, and can fire a variety of beams from them (paralysis beams, stun-beams, balance-distortion beams, etc.). Naturally, he can fire in more than one direction at once. He is a basic enforcer type.

GRIZZLOR — This humanoid boar has two tusks and a large shaggy body. He has the strength and ferocity of a wild boar, but is not the greatest in the smarts department. Grizzlor is the Horde's Prison Keeper, presiding over the terrible dungeons on Beast Island.

LEECH — A hideous creature with suction discs instead of hands and feet. Leech can climb even the slickest of surfaces with ease and can use his suction discs to drain energy from his foes with a single touch.

SCORPIA — Scorpia might almost be good looking if it weren't for her armored tail, her pincer claws and a disposition fully in keeping with the insect from which she takes her name. Scorpia's sting can paralyze a foe in seconds and she has the strength to rip out walls. She is not terribly bright, but she makes up for it in sheer meanness.

IMP — Imp is only about six inches tall, but it's all mischief and deviltry. This character has floppy ears, a devil tail, and snaggly, sharp teeth. His basic talent is infiltration, for he can turn himself into most any object with a thought (however he cannot turn into any object much larger than himself). Thus Imp might disguise himself as a goblet and set himself down on a conference table to overhear a plan or become a sparrow to make an escape. Combat wise, he has no power, though he can provide impish diversion, a smoke screen, a hot foot, a trip wire, etc. He too is played more for comedy.

THE PALACE OF POWER/DARKHOPE — ADDENDUM TO BIBLE INFORMATION

The Palace of Power is the most magical spot on all Etheria. In the Palace are gathered all the forgotten secrets of the First Ones (the founders of Etheria, equivalent to Eternia's Ancients). The Palace is located at the very top of the gigantic mountain called SkyDancer. This mountain is at the edge of the Kingdom of Bright Moon. The mountain top is constantly wreathed in clouds that obscure it and even when these clouds are pierced, the Palace is not immediately evident. It takes powerful enchantment or the power of Shera's sword to reveal the magnificent avian facade of the Palace and permit entry.

In the episode in which Shera finds the Palace (PP#67022, "The Palace of Power") she also meets DarkHope, the living spirit of the Palace. DarkHope is a very mysterious being. He appears as a pair of baleful red eyes, floating in a corridor of infinite darkness at the bottom of the palace. This coriddor is behind a very magical-looking door which opens to reveal him. DarkHope sees all that transpires on the planet of Etheria, EXCEPT for what occurs in the Fright Zone and the Shadow Kingdoms around it. The evil of these places prevents even DarkHope from seeing what occurs there. DarkHope also tells Shera that the Palace has long awaited her coming. She is the heroine for which the Palace was constructed, the person on whom the fate of the planet rests. For this reason, Shera is told to treat the Palace as her personal Haven. She comes there to meditate, to ask advice of DarkHope, to explore the myriad secrets contained in the Palace or to undertake some quest or another at the behest of DarkHope .

Like Castle Gray skull the actual extent of the Palace is unfathomable. Its corridors and staircases cover miles of unedning space, its chambers are more numerous than anyone could count.

While Shera will make use of the Palace often, it is not an automatic answer to the problems facing her. Shera will only seek the help of DarkHope and the Palace in the most dire of circumstances, never abusing the great power inherent in its walls.

As for DarkHope he looks forward to the day when the last Hordesman leaves Etheria and the world is once again free. At that moment the Palace will manifest itself to all Etherians and DarkHope's true identity will at last be revealed. Until that day only Shera, Princess of Power will share the secret of the Palace.

SHADOWWEAVER — ADDENDUM TO BIBLE INFORMATION

The Horde's dark Sorceress has her own private sanctuary to which she retires to study her evil spells or merely rest up after a hard day's nasty work. This sanctuary is known as HORROR HALL. Horror Hall is located in the Shadow Kingdom of DARKEDGE, one of the three evil kingdoms surrounding Fright Zone. Horror Hall is set in an active volcano, a mighty belching monster of a mountain. All manner of monster flies, crawls and creeps around this volcano. Entrance to the Hall is through the volcano's crater and this entrance is hidden by the constant flames shooting up from the lava pit and the thick black smoke caused by these flames. There is ALWAYS some sort of guardian monster on the entrance to the Hall and the portal is nothing more than a patch of darkness.

Inside, Horror Hall lives up to its name in grand fashion. Furnishings are eerie, gloomy, bizarre. Dark corridors go in all directions and weird noises abound. The center of the hall is the workshop of ShadowWeaver, a place filled with the trappings of evil magic. There are also dungeon cells, for those unfortunate enough to be the victims of ShadowWeaver's terrible experiments.

Attempting to breach Horror Hall would put even the Princess of Power in dire jeopardy, for it is here that ShadowWeaver is at her most powerful.

SCORPIA — ADDENDUM TO BIBLE INFORMATION

Though its not common knowledge, our pincer-clawed villainess also has her very own hideaway for those moments when evil-doing has taken its toll. It is called SCORPION HILL and is located in the blood-red sands of the Shadow Kingdom known as Crimson Waste. Scorpion Hill is a gigantic sand dune at the base of which is a large rock. Scorpia uses her mighty tail to push this rock aside and gain entrance to the underground passages which lead t o her lair beneath the giant dune. The corridors of the hill are patrolled by Scorpia's "pets", monster scorpions the size of St. Bernards. In her lair Scorpia plans and schemes to make trouble for the Rebellion and prove to Hordak that she and not Catra should be Force Captain of the Horde. Invariably such schemes involve not only the forces of the Rebellion but also the downfall or discrediting of Catra as well. Of course Catra is well aware of the scorpion woman's intentions and is usually prepared for her plots.

Possibility: Scorpia might be given a vehicle with which to cross the treacherous sands of the Crimson Waste. This vehicle would be known as the Scorpion Crawler. It would be a heavily-armored, tank-like vehicle with a scorpion motif and treads. Its tail-like appendage is a heavy-duty blaster and its pincer front can chomp through obstacles or capture foes.

[egginfroggin]

*yeets this and runs*

My hand regrets my decision to try for more realistic wings, frankly

Transcriptions:

Mabel Pines - Steller's Jay

Dipper Pines - Blue Jay

fledglings

can't quite fly yet

wing's aren't adult-sized yet

Dipper often forgets to preen

Mabel likes to put glitter in her wings (and Dipper's, when possible)

Dipper collects his primaries to make quill pens

Mabel collects their feathers for crafting

Yeah so I'm just gonna drop this here and uhhhhh run, thanks for checking this, and I hope you have a good day

(program: krita; time taken: about 1 hr 45 minutes)

[motherforthefamicom]

killing him with my mind (affectionate)

[findingcrow]

Halt: I can’t tell which I’m more surprised by- the fact that you didn’t realize you have intense trauma, or that you thought you were straight.

Will: Okay now that’s not fair

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: sweet baby boy drew whos willing to help u, nothing else rly

next

authors note: i wanted to give it a sort of “the proposal” / “anyone but you” type of feel !! this is obviously going to be a series so let me know if u want to be added to the tag list from now on so u dont miss an update ! <3

your body freezes in place when you’re asked about the wedding. crap, you forgot. but it isn’t like you received any invite.

“theo sent you an invite through the mail. you got it right?” your friend, leila, asks you. leila and her fiancé theo have been your friends for years now, ever since you met leila during a movie priemere and shared respect on each other's careers. she’s been your closest friend, so theo naturally had to come along too.

“what? yeah,” you lie right through your teeth, and guilt punches you in the face when you stare right into her bright eyes. you raise the cup of coffee. “was literally jumping for joy when i got it.”

leila sighs in relief. “thank god we got the right address,” she says and you question what she means by that before she continues, “we didn’t know whether to send it to your apartment or drew’s.”

your breath is caught and you pause before your drink reaches your lips.

“drew,” you repeat, and she nods.

“yeah, but we figured you’ll both see it either way so, sent it to his place ‘cause theo said it was closer,” leila says, and you raise your eyebrows in amusement. “but anyway! before the wedding, i wanted to stay with our inner circle so if it’s possible for a little two-week vacation? the venue is close to my mom and her boyfriend’s house so we’d just be staying there. i would’ve picked after the wedding if theo didn’t already have the honeymoon planned. he’s too excited.”

“wait, two weeks?” you inquire, “who’s coming?”

she shrugs, “you and drew, libby, gia . . .” she trails off as she thinks about it, and you swallow as you set your cup down. “i forgot who else. i know it’s one of theo’s coworkers but i forgot who. let me text him actually.”

your face lights up at the opportunity to get away, and you nod. “i need to call drew actually,” you say, and she smiles and nods as you stand from your seat and make your way to her living room. “need to remind him to take the . . . fish . . . out.”

“fish?”

“we’re having fish tonight, yeah.”

you turn away to scroll through your contacts until you find his, then click on it. you settle down on the couch as you wait anxiously for him to pick up, and just hope that he does.

just before the call goes to voicemail, the line clears. “yeah?”

“you are such a—!” you hiss quietly, careful not to let leila hear you. “why didn’t you tell me leila and theo sent you a wedding invite for us?”

“i literally just checked my mail, alright? i would’ve said something about it as soon as i saw it,” he tells you. “i just flew in two days ago, y/n. i’m at the . . . i’m not at my apartment right now but my mail’s all on my counter. i’ll look for it once i’m home and then send you pictures of it, okay?”

you know that your situation with drew is slightly complicated. you were together for five years before ending things just a year ago.

because of your careers, you aren’t surprised that people assume you’re still dating. even close friends like leila and theo. everything was kept private. a year into the relationship was when fans even found out about you two.

you both have been looking for a time to address the breakup, to friends first for sure, but with your conflicting schedules, the time’s just never come up, and sending a “by the way, we broke up” text to an imessage groupchat wasn’t totally ideal.

even with the wedding coming up, having to be around everyone while you celebrate your closest friends, how are you either of you supposed to bring it up now?

“okay,” you tell him. “just text me when you’re free. any time before 10, please.”

“okay,” drew’s voice is soft and understanding. the line goes dead and you pull your phone away from your ear, seeing that he’s hung up.

your expected text comes around 8pm. drew’s sent you four different attachments. all are photos of the elaborate and detailed wedding invitation. the designs must’ve been leila’s idea.

you’re surprised to see an incoming call on your laptop right after. you hover over the accept button, then click on it.

his face fills a rectangle of your screen. he’s on his phone—“do you see it?”

“yeah wait,” you mumble, clicking out of the facetime to open your messages with him, then click the first photo. “leila and theo; rsvp by september twenty-seventh.”

“the letter’s addressed to my place but they put our names on the envelope,” drew tells you, and it looks like he’s ruffling through something before he flips his camera to display his counter. on it is the envelope in question, which is addressed to his apartment, but for y/n and drew, it says.

you hum. “are you going?” you ask him.

“of course i’m going. what do you mean?”

you shake your head, “nothing.”

drew only knows of leila or theo because of you, because leila works with you. maybe he’s made friends with theo but it’s not something you’ve personally seen, so you’re just assuming that maybe since you’ve broken up, there’s no reason for him to go? especially when he’s filming soon?

you stare down at your keyboard as you speak again, “leila wants us to come on a two-week pre-stay with her and theo. and others.”

there’s a brief pause from drew, like he doesn’t understand.

you sense it immediately and continue. “like, before the wedding, she told me today about how her mom has his house she wants us to stay in, just a few of us for two weeks, then they have her wedding— i don’t know, i need to ask her more about it. i think she just wants to fly everyone out and spend more time with us before she’s on honeymoon and living the wife life.”

“could be fun,” drew says. “i mean, i can’t even remember the last time i was out with theo or leila. it might be good for us.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him through the screen, and you try to read him to see if he’s joking. “there is no more ‘us’, remember? and by the way, neither leila or theo or anybody else knows that.”

drew hesitates as if he’s trying to justify your situation.

you rub your eye before resting the side of your head against your fist, “they addressed the invitation to both of us, drew. i feel like we should at least tell them the truth so that when we get there, they know.”

drew hesitates, his eyes moving around as if searching for the right words. “yeah, i know. it’s just . . . complicated.”

“complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you say, feeling frustration build up. “it just feels dishonest. they think we’re still together, and if they find out at the wedding, it’ll look like we’re hiding things.”

“we are hiding things,” he reminds you. “we’ve been avoiding the topic. do you really want to drop this bomb on them right before their wedding?”

you go silent as you think about it, because if telling them isn’t a good option then . . .

“what if we just kept up the appearance that we’re still together?” drew suggests. it draws your attention as you look up at your laptop. “for the wedding and the pre.”

you blink, taken aback. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” drew continues, “what if we act like we’re still together while we’re there? it might make things easier for everyone. seeing us apart will just create tension. people will feel like they’ll need to walk on eggshells around us.”

you give him a skeptical look. “acting like a couple isn’t the same as actually being one. i’m not sure i can just pull it off without it feeling fake.”

“we’re not faking,” drew says gently. “we’re just playing a part for a bit. we’re professionals. it’s literally our job. we can do this for a few days.”

you pause, considering his words. “but what if it just makes things worse? what if pretending just complicates everything?”

drew’s expression softens, and he speaks more earnestly. “look, we’ve been in tough spots before. there’s been so many times on set with you and i before that we’ve had to navigate headfirst. this is no different. think of it as a role we have to play for a short time. it doesn’t change what’s real.”

you sit back, processing his suggestion. “so we fake it for now and deal with the truth later?”

he hums. “it’s not ideal, but it could save a lot of awkwardness and stress. we can be civil and supportive for their sake, and then handle everything after.”

you let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of the decision. “it just feels like a lot of work to keep up a pretense. but i guess if we’re going to do this, we need to at least figure out how to make it believable.”

“we’ll figure it out,” drew says, his voice a little more hopeful. “it’s not about being perfect. it’s just about getting through the weeks without making things worse.”

you nod slowly, still feeling uneasy but recognizing the practicality of his idea. “okay. pretend for leila and theo, and then deal with the fallout afterwards.”

there’s a faint smile on his face as he nods at you. “just two weeks, remember? we can do that,” he says. “i’m gonna head to bed. i’ll talk to you tomorrow about it, alright?”

“okay,” you murmur, and drew hangs up on you.

the facetime window closes and displays your last app that’s been open, your messages. you’re face-to-face with the photos of the invitations once more, and a part of you is overwhelmed with emotions—fear, excitement, guilt.

two weeks. that’s all it is. just two weeks with your ex-boyfriend. you can survive that . . .

right?

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

[fangirl-dot-com]

🤨Everyone is Convinced that You Aren't Together

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x FerrariDriver!Reader Genre: Fluff/SMAU Warning: Name calling? Summary: What is your love language? Acts of service? Quality time? Physical touch? Let's just say that you and Logan have a very different type, and no one thinks that you could actually be together.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“Hey dickwad!” 

The sound of the not-so-nice name had people in the main hospitality turning in your direction. However, the person whose attention you were trying to get kept on eating his lunch, making you more semi-annoyed than you already were. 

You huffed rather loudly before sitting down across from him and whoever he was eating with. The table, comprising of Lando, Oscar, and Alex, was filled with pairs of wide eyes except for two. When the blond still didn’t look at you, you reached over and grabbed a fry off his plate. 

Then, and only then, did he finally look up to glare at you. Oscar just kept eating. 

“Did you seriously just take my last fry?” Logan questioned, eyes squinting in a glare. 

You raised an eyebrow in retaliation. “Yes. And?” 

“It was my last fry, fat ass.” 

“Like I said: yes, and?” 

Logan huffed, knowing that this was a losing battle already from the start. He put his head back down and started to finish his chicken sandwich. You had momentarily blanked at what you were there for, before quickly remembering. 

You looked to the man on your left. “Are you using this?” 

Lando, with wide eyes, shook his head as he watched you take his spoon. You reeled your hand back and threw it at Logan. When it hit him in the head, he looked back up at you. 

“What the actual heck was that for, whore?” 

You shrugged. “I remembered why I was here.” 

Logan rolled his eyes. “And you decided to throw a spoon at me?” 

“Yes. You forgot your jacket again at the hotel.” 

Alex, who had been in fear of a giant argument breaking out, watched as Logan’s eyes visibly softened. He had been confused for the entire thing. 

“Did you bring it here?” 

“No.” 

Then Alex watched the glare of annoyance come back to the blonde’s eyes while you smirked. 

“Y/n!” 

You turned around at the sound of your teammate’s voice. 

“Yeah, Charles?” 

Charles could see that Alex and Lando were getting uncomfortable at the table and wanted to subtract you from the equation (even if that meant taking you away from your boyfriend). He could sense Logan’s “playful” glare from outside the hospitality. 

“We have a meeting in five minutes.” 

“Oh shit.”

You quickly stood up and rounded the table, stopping right in front of Logan’s chair. The American looked up at you. Lando and Alex watched as you stooped down. A sigh of relief was on the cusp of Lando’s lips, hoping that you’d kiss the American before you left. 

However, you just flicked his forehead. “Don’t forget to drink water, bitch.” 

With that you left with Charles on your right, conversation already flowing due to the race that weekend. 

Alex and Lando looked at Logan with wide eyes and were still surprised to see a pretty neutral facial expression as he ate a bite of his sandwich. Next to him, Oscar seemed unbothered as well. Logan was just finishing his sandwich when his eyes landed on something by Lando. 

“She left her water bottle after telling me to remember to drink water. What a cunt.” 

With a sigh, Logan stood up, grabbed the bottle and his plate, and walked over to the door. He put his dish in the return station before walking out the door. Alex’s and Lando’s eyes were glued to Logan’s figure before he went out of sight. After they turned to Oscar who was looking at his phone. 

The Aussie could feel the pair of eyes on him, but decided against it. There were a few moments of silence before George came over and sat in Logan’s empty seat. 

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he asked, fork stabbing his food. 

Lando blinked a bit. “George, would you call Carmen a cunt?” 

George’s face twisted in disgust. “No?” 

��Would Carmen call you a bitch?” 

The Briton shook his head. “I hope not.” 

Lando’s head hit the table in a thunk, making George turn to Alex. “What’s wrong with him?” 

Alex rubbed his face. “What’s wrong with Logan and Y/n is the better question. They must be messing with us, because there is no way that they’re together.” 

George took a bite of his salad. “They are a bit . . . odd. Pretty mean to each other if you ask me.” 

“They’ve been like this for forever. It’s nothing new,” Oscar finally decided to add his piece. “It’s their love language.” 

Lando scoffed. “Like words of affirmation?” 

“More like words of insults. I could never insult Lily like that,” Alex muttered, taking a sip of his drink. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Y/n grew up with brothers and so did Logan. It’s romantic teasing if anything. You saw how Logan grabbed her water bottle. He probably took it to her.” 

Lando held his arms out. “But she didn’t bring his jacket! Is it one sided love from Logan?”

The Aussie just huffed, before he turned around. “Benny, did Y/n bring Logan’s jacket by Williams this morning?” 

The personal trainer, who had been silently laughing at the whole ordeal, smiled. “Yep. And she brought him his protein shake since we were out.” 

Oscar pointed. “See? And Ferrari doesn’t even carry those types of shakes.” 

Benny shook his head. “Nope. She would have had to go out to get it.” 

Lando was still unconvinced. “There is still no way. Maybe they can be best friends, but a couple? It’s not happening.” 

Alex winced. “I think I have to agree with Lando on this one.” 

Oscar wanted to refute once again, but he noticed it was time to go. He only hoped that maybe this weekend, Lando would be able to see that you and Logan were together. He knew that the fights between you two were good jests, and the insulting nicknames started from an inside joke that he didn’t even know the extent of. 

When it came time for the drivers’ parade, Oscar pointed out how you and Logan were practically joined at the hip. He took his designated spot to Logan’s left, while you stood to the right. He gestured for Lando and Alex to join him. 

But with a group, it seemed like you and Logan wanted to amp your antics. 

You waved to the crowd with a dazzling smile; however, your words to Logan were not as nice. Your elbow connected with Logan’s side. 

“Think you can actually finish the race today, loser?” 

Lando winced at your harsh words. Alex just stared with wide eyes. Oscar just sighed.

Logan kept his smile sharp as he also waved. His finger shoved your face back. “You think you can maybe win a race, asshat?” 

From behind you two, Max and Lewis had their mouths open as Charles giggled. The Monegasque was well aware of yours and Logan’s fun nicknames as he had heard many phone conversations since you became his teammate. 

Max leaned over to Charles. “Did she really just say that?” 

A nod from the Ferrari driver confirmed that the Dutchman did, in fact, just hear you say that. Not wanting to hear any other comments, everyone else left you two to be. But doing so, they missed Logan’s arm wrap around your waist and your head resting on his shoulder. 

The race, for you, went surprisingly well. You had, once again, finished second behind Charles, who had managed a second race win of the season in Barcelona. Max finished the podium placers. You had been too busy to try to find Logan right after the race, but you wished deep down that he had at least finished. 

After the podium, you had been on your way to media when Ellie, your PR manager pulled you to the side. 

You cocked your head. “Is everything all right?” 

The girl bit her lip nervously. “Well, Logan finished in points today. It was P8 actually. But he had some issues with Lance during the race.” 

Well, that had your blood pressure rising. 

Your eye brows scrunched. “Did something happen?” 

Ellie looked down at the floor, not wanting to be on the receiving side of your anger. Everyone knew that you, and only you, could mess with Logan about his racing. 

“Stroll mentioned something about Logan’s racing style and made some snide comments.” 

You took a deep breath before turning to walk toward the media pit. “I’m guessing you have something for me to say?” 

The poor girl tried to keep up with your bigger strides as she thrust her phone near you. You had barely glanced at the words before deciding that you didn’t want anything to do with what Ferrari had written out. 

You were a bit out of breath as you approached the microphone. You licked your lips before glancing over at Ellie, a pitiful look on your face. You wanted to say sorry for what you might say during the interview. 

“I’ll say what I want,” was picked up by the mic, making the journalist wince a bit. 

You looked at the journalist as you put your hat on. The man tried to smile before he asked you some questions about your race. He could tell that you were disinterested in the questions, so he steered the interview in a different direction. 

“We watched Logan, your boyfriend, finish the race in P8. It was a really nice race on his part. Have you been able to watch the finish?” 

You shook your head. “I wanted to see him after the race but I had to be on the podium. I’m sure he did a very great job, and I’m proud of him getting points.” 

Both Ellie and the journalist saw a sliver of a smile on your face. Too bad it was about to disappear. 

The man clinched his teeth before speaking again. “After what Lance Stroll said on the radios and after the race, do you have any plans to speak up on that?” 

Your head cocked in a slightly annoyed manner; smile wiped from your face. Around, you, some drivers went silent as they waited for your words. Charles had been behind you, waiting for his turn. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, and his eyes kept glancing to your back. 

Oscar, who had been talking to Alex, also went quiet before they were called to do their own interviews.   

“I can’t speak on something I haven’t heard him say. Do you want to do the honors of telling me?” 

Your hands rested on the barrier, shoulders hunching. Everyone was bracing for impact. 

“He said some choice words over the radio, and then said, ‘Sargeant is lucky that his driving style is cowardly. He’s a dumb ass for trying to pull that move, which inevitably ruined my race. He’s just a total idiot. Next year will be nicer for sure’.” 

You pursed your lips as you mulled over Lance’s words. He was definitely insinuating that Logan wasn’t going to be on the grid next year. Something that no one knew for sure. Your eyes flickered around, trying to find some shade of green. However, you couldn’t see any, and maybe that was for the best. 

You gave a very fake smile as you said your response. “Well, Lance is just a cunt, and he can learn to keep his mouth shut. I haven’t seen anything about his contract renewal, so he should really focus on his races. I can show him cowardly if he would like?” 

Your smile was sickening as you slightly threatened the Canadian. It was then that you decided the interview was over as you thanked the man before turning around to leave. Ellie gave him an apology as she trailed behind you. 

On the way to Williams, you had managed to lose Ellie. On the inside, you were apologetic for how you acted today, but Logan needed you. You really weren’t expecting to see Lance on the way, but somehow fate was in your favor, and against his. 

Oscar, who had finished, was behind you and saw the moment you made a bee-line for the Canadian. 

“Oh shit,” he muttered, picking up his pace to possibly stop you from hitting the brunet. 

When he got there, your finger was pressed against Lance’s chest as you berated him in front of the paddock. 

Alex and Lando, who had joined Oscar in trying to gently redirect your attention, were wanting to start laughing as how scared Lance was. They had finally started to drag you away, but you were still not done with Lance. 

“And if you think that you’re safe on the grid, then you’re a bigger dumb ass than I thought. You better watch out Stroll. Your head is getting too big for your body. A beau cave is what you are, and yes, I can speak French you insolent fool!” 

Oscar snorted as they finally got you into the Williams garage, Lance out of sight. You were puffing still as you tried to calm down. 

“Are you done now?” a voice sounded, making everyone’s head whip around. There Logan stood, now out of his race suit and into more comfortable clothes. 

You pouted. “Yes.” 

Logan affectionately rolled his eyes as he walked over. He put his arm around your shoulders and brought you in. “You didn’t have to do that you know. Ferrari might get mad.” 

You huffed again, sticking your head into Logan’s chest. “No one gets to call you dumb ass except for me.” 

The American hummed before kissing your forehead and then your lips. 

While you two were caught up in the moment, Alex and Lando had their mouths open. Oscar had a smirk on his face as he looked at two others. 

“Now do you believe me?” 

Lando blinked for a moment. “I do now.” 

Alex rubbed his chin. “They’re actually quite cute.” 

You knocked yourself out of Logan’s arms before punching his shoulder. Logan gawked at you as he rubbed the hurt spot. 

“What the hell was that for you bitch?” 

“That was for getting points and not telling me you swine!” 

Oscar smacked his forehead. “And we’re back.” 

logansargeant has posted

liked by sargeant4president, y/nferrari, logan2sargeant, and 74,039 others

logansargeant finally putting it the points! thanks you all for the love and support 💙

see all comments

f1slay LOGAN MY MAN

y/nxlogan the couple that stays together, slays together

americanf1fan YEE HAW LET'S GO 🦅

y/nferrai I love you bitch, I ain't neva gonna stop lovin you bitch

logansargeant love you too ass hat 🎩

alex_albon I liked you two better when you were nicer

oscarpiastri let them love the way they know best

y/nferrari awww thanks loser ����

oscarpiastri HEY

y/nsworld Logan and y/n are the power couple of the grid

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y/nferrari another day, another p2, another day of Logan calling me a fat ass (but I love him) ❤️

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y/n.nation the caption is everything

logan4president the matching team colored hearts was a nice touch

Ferrari you'll get Charles in Austria 💪

charles_leclerc no she won't 🥰

logansargeant but you're my fat ass 🤤

y/nferrari maybe you'd get more points if you stop staring

logansargeant maybe you'd win a race if YOU stopped staring at charles's or max's ass

maxverstappen1 I knew it 😌

y/nferrari SHUT UR MOUTH

trustthefund I'm still worried about Lance, he looked shooked

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[hotchner-edu]

I was thinking about a cute scenario where Hotch misplaces his Rolex and is kinda bummed about it but reassures his girlfriend that he’ll just get another one someday. She has been saving up to get a new car but instead uses her money to surprise Aaron with a new rolax and he’s all like 🥹🥹🥹

The thought of spoiling that man consumes me.

The Watch | Aaron Hotchner

The case of the missing Rolex came to your attention before it did to Aaron's, and you were probably more devastated about it than your boyfriend was.

"Sweetheart, it's fine. I'll just get another one soon." He tries to placate you as you practically tear through his closet. Knowing Aaron, soon meant close to never due to how hectic his work life could get.

"It's not fine!" You call out from your spot on his closet floor. "A Rolex submariner going missing should qualify as an emergency situation."

You hear Aaron chuckle fondly and come up behind you, crouching down to give you a kiss on your temple, his hands moving down to stop yours before you could claw through another stack of his folded pants. "Honey, you won't find anything there. Besides, I mean it. I'll just get a new one."

Frowning, you lean back into him and sigh as he wraps his arms around your middle and drops kisses around your face. "You stress me out." You say lightheartedly, sagging in his hold.

He lets out an affectionate laugh, his chest rumbling under your back. "I love you, too."

To the misfortune of your bank account, your love for Aaron spurred you to endlessly research the variety of Rolex series available on their website. You have to fight back a grimace at every comma in the price tags.

After logging out of your bank account app (to protect your peace), you settle on purchasing the oystersteel model which resembled the one he lost.

You ended up digging into your car savings fund to purchase the watch, but you had no regret in doing so. Although it created a bit of a dent in your efforts to replace your current car, Aaron deserved to be spoiled. Plus, you’d be receiving your next paycheck soon enough.

The watch takes a little less than a week to deliver. Taking no risks, you had the delivery fully insured and tracked the package’s movements like a hawk for days.

The hard part of the entire ordeal came with having to actually give the gift to Aaron. Of course, he wasn’t above accepting gifts, but receiving gifts that cost thousands of dollars, especially on non-holiday occasions, was something else entirely for him.

One night as he’s laying beside you, watching tiktoks with you on your phone, you decide to bite the bullet.

“Honey, did you ever find your Rolex?”

He chuckles a bit sheepishly, seemingly still a bit embarrassed to have misplaced something so valuable. “No. I think I might’ve taken it off during a case somewhere and left it in the hotel.”

Nodding, you suppress an excited smile as you suddenly sit up, causing his hands to grip your waist in surprise. “Where are we off to, sweetheart?”

“I need to pee really quick.” You say smoothly, giving him a sweet kiss. "And no, you can't come this time." He gives your ass a quick slap as you crawl out of bed, causing you to shake your head playfully as he chuckles.

Locking yourself in the bathroom, you gently open one of the sink drawers containing your skincare items. Digging to the bottom, you pull out the green leather box containing the Rolex, taking a deep breath before opening the door again.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" Aaron's voice sounds from across the room immediately, noting how fast you left the bathroom.

"I forgot something." You say and hurry toward the bed, unable to hide the giddy grin on your face.

Aaron props himself up on his arm and raises an eyebrow as you practically launch yourself back on the bed.

"For the best boyfriend in the world." You coo sweetly and extend the box toward him.

Aaron stares at you like you have three heads for a moment before frowning and carefully taking the box. "Sweetheart, you didn't have to..."

Your mood dampens a little at that and your shoulders sag. Aaron picks up on it immediately and sits up fully, eyes widened as he places the box aside and cups your face. "Thank you, really. But it must have cost a fortune, baby."

"You deserve to be spoiled, Aaron. Besides, I'm still being conscious with my money, so don't worry about it." You say, smiling when he tucks you into his chest and kisses your forehead.

"It's my job to spoil you, y'know." He grumbles playfully, squeezing your hip.

Accepting his affection, you reach for the box again and wiggle it in front of him. "Yeah, yeah, don't you want to see what I picked out for you?"

Before he opens the box, he showers you with more kisses, unable to ignore the fuzzy warmth that filled him.

"The watch, Aaron!" You protest in a fit of laughter.

He grins against your skin as he kisses your cheek. "Thanking my woman comes first."

When he finally does see the watch, he wants to just freeze time and take a picture of your expectant grin, thinking you look absolutely beautiful as you wait to see his reaction.

So while you fuss over putting the watch on for him, all he can do is stare at you lovingly and debate on whether to buy you a new car or an engagement ring first.

[jetii]

Awkward

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader

Words: 9,063

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, squadmates to lovers, some general miscommunication awkwardness, mutual pining, inexperienced!Hunter, first time, smut, nipple play, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, fingering, so much kissing

Summary: You messed up. After months of hiding your feelings for Hunter, you kiss him to avoid a bad situation, but he doesn't react the way you expect. And he doesn't seem interested in talking about it.

A/N: Thank you @wiltedwillowsvioletsky for the prompt! I can't lie this is one of my favorite tropes. I have another Hunter fic that I'll be posting in a couple weeks, and it's much more serious/angsty so I wanted to make this one fun.

“Physical displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” you say in a rush as if it's a single word, before you lose your nerve.

Hunter stops moving. He’s not even breathing, as far as you can tell. You feel your heart in your throat.

He looks at you, head slightly tilted to the side, like he does when he hears something strange. His eyes search yours for a long moment, his brow furrowed. 

You have no idea what he's thinking, but you plow ahead anyway. There’s no time for anything else. The guards will be on you soon.

You reach out, grab his shoulders and step closer to him. Your body presses against his chest, and his arms come up automatically to encircle your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck.

You close your eyes and lean in, until your lips are almost touching his ear. You whisper, in a tone you hope he recognizes as the warning it is, “Just act natural.”

And then you press your mouth to his.

It’s awkward. 

Painfully, agonizingly awkward.

Your noses are squished together, and he doesn't react. Doesn't even breathe, so far as you can tell. Your heart is in your throat, and you’re trying desperately not to think about what you're doing.

You’re aware that Hunter is warm and firm under your hands. His fingers twitch at your waist and the back of your neck tingles. He’s not moving. He’s not responding. You feel the familiar sensation of dread building in your stomach.

You know better than this.

You are such an idiot.

Finally, you start to pull away, heart in your throat. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Maybe you should just let the guards shoot you and save you from the humiliation.

As you begin to move, you feel Hunter take a breath. He surges forward and kisses you again, pulling you closer to him. His hands are gripping you firmly, one sliding up to tangle in your hair, the other dropping lower, almost to your ass.

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss.

He still doesn't seem to be breathing, and the kiss is more a series of short, desperate presses of lips and tongue, but it's good. It's great, actually. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that Hunter has never kissed anyone before, but you’re too dazed by his enthusiasm to care.

His mouth is warm and insistent against yours, and he tastes like the caf you drank at breakfast. His stubble scrapes your chin and his teeth knock against yours, and he seems to be holding his breath the whole time. You can't tell if it's because he's nervous, or because he simply forgot how.

Either way, his grip is firm, and he kisses you as if his life depends on it. In this moment, it very well might.

You realize you're standing on the tips of your toes. You tighten your arms around his neck and lean into him, trying to relieve some of the strain. The hand on your neck slips up, cradling your cheek and the feeling of his gloved fingertips is so good, you have to stifle a whimper.

The kiss goes on forever.

It goes on long enough that you should have heard the guards coming, but you didn't.

Suddenly, Hunter pulls away from you, leaving you dizzy and off-balance. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck. You blink rapidly, trying to get your brain to re-engage.

"You didn't need to do that,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, and a little unsteady.

You look up, and meet his eyes, and you realize how close you are to him. The kiss felt like a lifetime. You were pressed up against him so tightly, his hands on you so possessively, that the absence of him is jarring. You shiver, and he rubs his thumb against the back of your neck.

"It was a good plan," you say, because you have no idea what else to say.

You are suddenly painfully aware of the fact that you're standing in the middle of the hallway with Hunter's arms around you. Your legs feel a little bit like jelly.

You want to lean forward and press your face into the hollow of his throat. You want him to pull you closer, to hold you tighter. You want him to kiss you again. You want him to push you up against the wall and—

Your stomach clenches. Your pulse races. You're pretty sure you've never been so turned on in your life, and that's not a useful thing to think about when you're in the middle of a mission.

“They're not coming," Hunter says, and you know, intellectually, that he is referring to the guards, but your mind is in another place entirely.

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod.

Hunter stares down at you, his eyes roving over you like he's never seen you before. His cheeks are pink, his hair is mussed, and his lips are swollen and slick. You're having a hard time looking away from his mouth.

The hand on your waist shifts, his thumb starts tracing a soft, slow circle across the exposed skin of your hip. It's barely any pressure at all, but it sends a wave of heat through you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can hear it.

You can feel the blood rushing through your veins, and all you can think is he can't possibly not know, he's got enhanced senses, he can't possibly not know that I'm crazy about him.

Hunter's face is flushed and he looks as wrecked as you feel.

You wonder if he will ever kiss you again.

You are so close that the thought crosses your mind that you could lean forward and kiss him again, and it would be fine. That's what people do, when they've kissed each other. They kiss again.

You're not sure you can bring yourself to do it. You're not sure he’ll let you. He’s still looking at you like he can't quite believe what just happened, or maybe he can't quite believe what he did.

You wonder if there is a way to ask him, without actually asking him.

You wonder if there's a way to make him want you the way you want him.

You wonder, with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, if you've managed to ruin everything.

"So you think they're gone?" you ask. Your voice sounds normal, somehow, even though you can barely hear over the sound of your heart.

He pauses, like he's forgotten what you're talking about, then says, "They, uh, they turned the corner a minute ago."

"Good," you say, and the two of you stand there in silence.

It would be so easy to reach up and run your fingers through his hair, to pull him down and press your lips to his again. You can't stop thinking about it. Your whole body feels like it's on fire.

Hunter stares down at you, his eyes dark and wide, and you're standing so close together that you can see the flecks of gold in his irises. His face is still flushed, his mouth still slightly open.

If he doesn't kiss you again, you are going to die.

The hand on your waist is warm and heavy, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your skin.

“We should head back to the ship,” he says, but neither of you move.

He leans in a little, and his nose brushes against yours. Your heart is pounding. You feel hot all over.

He hesitates, and you're sure that he's going to kiss you again.

He doesn't.

"I'm going to check the hall," he says, and pulls away from you.

Your body is burning with unspent desire, and your hands are shaking.

He's going to pretend it didn't happen. That's fine. You can do that too. You can absolutely ignore the fact that he just kissed you like he meant it, and you can't stop thinking about it. It's not a problem. You're not going to be awkward around him. It's going to be fine.

Hunter turns the corner. He's gone.

Your hands are still shaking.

"Shit," you whisper.

You lean back against the wall, close your eyes, and try to catch your breath.

It's going to be a long trip home.

It's not going to be weird.

You won't let it be weird.

You keep telling yourself that, over and over, and you hope it will make it true. You’re not going to make it weird. You have to ignore the way Hunter looked at you when you pulled away. You have to forget the way he kissed you, the way his hands felt on your waist, the way he tasted. You have to forget the way he hesitated, and for a moment, you were sure he was going to kiss you again.

This isn’t something you can change. This isn't a mistake you can fix. You've made the best decision you could, and now, you have to live with it. 

You try your best to be normal. You sit next to him in the cockpit. You joke with him and laugh at his stories. You make eye contact, and don't stare at his lips.

You have a hard time keeping your distance. The ship is small, and he's everywhere. When he comes into the room, your whole body responds. It's not a conscious reaction. It's involuntary. So you try your best to limit your time alone with him.

It's fine. You're fine. You're being normal.

Except that Hunter is acting...different.

He watches you constantly, like he's waiting for you to say something. He's jumpy and quiet. He's clearly on edge, and you have no idea why. You've replayed the moment outside the vault a thousand times, and you can't figure out where you went wrong.

You're not sure how to talk about it, so you decide to pretend it didn't happen. That should help, right? If the two of you can ignore the kiss, maybe things will go back to normal.

But Hunter doesn't play along.

He keeps touching you.

The first time it happens, it catches you by surprise. You're on a supply run, and the two of you have stopped at a kiosk in the market. He's talking to the merchant about the supplies you need, and his hand brushes the small of your back, right above the base of your spine.

The gesture is so casual, so familiar, and so unexpected, that you jump. You look at him, and he's still focused on the merchant. You must have imagined it.

It happens again, on the ship, when he reaches over and pats your shoulder, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary. You stare at him, but he doesn't notice. He's looking at Tech.

"Are you all right?" you ask.

"Fine," he says, and he goes back to his work.

It keeps happening.

Everywhere. On the ship. In the hangar. At the bar. Everywhere.

He touches your hand when he gives you your share of the credits. He puts his hand on your hip to guide you around a group of people. He squeezes your shoulder when he passes behind you. He leans over you in the cockpit, and rests his hand on the back of your seat. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear yesterday, and he nudged your knee with his while the two of you were sitting around the fire pit.

Everywhere. All the time.

The worst part is that it's not even sexual. He touches you the way a partner would. A lover. Like the two of you are comfortable together, and it's driving you insane. You don't understand why he's doing it.

Every touch is like fire on your skin. Every time, you jump, and every time, you look at him, and every time, he's not looking at you. It's infuriating.

Finally, when he grabs your elbow at Cid's, and you whirl around and glare at him, you realize that it is, in fact, intentional.

You grab him by the front of his armor and drag him into the nearest storage closet. You are absolutely done with this.

Hunter follows without protest, and as soon as the door closes behind him, you turn and demand, "What are you doing?"

He looks at you with amusement. He's smiling a little. It makes him look younger, and even more handsome than usual. "Touching you," he says, as if this is obvious.

You stare at him.

"Why?"

"You don't like it?"

"That's not the point!" You can feel the blush creep into your cheeks. "Why are you doing it?"

He leans down, so that his face is very close to yours. "Because I want to."

His voice is low, and a little rough. He's so close, and he's looking at you in that way that makes you weak in the knees. He reaches out, and cups your face with his hands. His thumb traces your lower lip, and it takes all of your self control not to bite it.

"Because," he murmurs, "you're not stopping me."

You can't breathe.

"Hunter," you say, and you don't recognize your own voice.

"Yes?"

"If you're going to kiss me again, I suggest you do it now."

He looks a little surprised, but then he smiles, and ducks his head and does exactly as you ask.

And, stars, the kiss is so good.

He's much more confident now. Hunter's hand is warm and steady on your jaw, and his lips are firm. He kisses you gently, as if he has all the time in the world. His tongue is soft and wet and teasing, and his other hand has settled on the small of your back, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the thin material of your shirt.

Your hands are pressed against the cold, flat plastoid of his armor, but you need to touch him. You slide your palms up his chest, over his shoulders, until you can cup his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair.

You can't tell who moans. Maybe both of you.

His hands slip under your shirt, and his gloves are soft against your bare skin. He pulls you closer, and the kiss deepens, his tongue pressing deeper, his mouth opening wider. You can't stop the whimper that escapes you.

Your back hits the wall, and the kiss changes, becomes hungrier. He's kissing you like he means it, and you're overwhelmed by the smell of him, the feel of him, the taste of him. He's surrounding you. You're drowning in him, and it's not enough. You're not sure it will ever be enough.

You pull away, gasping, and he looks at you, his eyes dark and unfocused.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice hoarse, and his fingers tighten on your skin. "I was going to talk to you about this, but I've never been very good at talking."

You stare at him. You feel a little bit like someone has hit you over the head.

"What?" you manage.

He clears his throat. "I thought I'd give it some time. Wait and see if you brought it up, or if you were going to...do that."

You're having a hard time focusing on what he's saying. He's so close to you, and you can feel his chest rising and falling against yours. His hands are on you. He's got one thigh between your legs.

"Do what?"

Hunter gestures, a little helplessly, towards the storage room door. "That."

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. You have no idea what is going on, but you can't think straight when he's so close.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, and your voice is a lot calmer than you feel.

He pauses, and his fingers are tapping out a nervous rhythm against your hip.

"Are you saying we haven't been flirting?" he asks, and the look on his face is almost comical. He looks so confused, so baffled, and so, so handsome. You've never wanted anyone more.

You have no idea what is going on.

"Flirting?" you echo.

"Or...something," he says, a little more cautiously.

You feel a rush of heat rise in your cheeks. You're suddenly aware that the two of you are still pressed together. His hands are on your skin, his thigh is still between your legs. You let go of him, and press your palms flat against the wall. You need some distance from him.

"You've been flirting with me?"

He frowns.

"I thought I was being pretty obvious," he says, and the confusion on his face is adorable.

"So," you say slowly, "you've been touching me, and following me around, and being..." you trail off, not sure how to describe it.

"Attentive?" he offers.

"No."

"Interested?"

"You haven't been subtle," you say instead.

"And I thought you were responding," he says, and he's looking at you like he can't figure you out, "I could hear your heartbeat. It was always a little fast when I touched you."

You're not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed by his powers of observation.

"Yeah," you say, because it seems like the easiest answer, "I was."

He's looking at you expectantly, and the realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

He has no idea what he's doing.

You're so used to being around the guys and seeing them as men, that you forget sometimes, how little experience they actually have. Hunter is a grown man, with enhanced senses, a lethal skill set, and a very high level of intelligence.

But he is also a clone, who spent his entire life training and fighting. Who spent nearly every shore leave on Kamino, surrounded by brothers. Who, as far as you can tell, has never kissed anyone, and certainly has never had sex.

He has no idea what he's doing.

You sigh, and lean your forehead against his chest.

"You're really bad at this," you say, and your voice is muffled by his armor. “I didn’t think you were bad at anything. Especially this kind of thing."

"I've never had a relationship before," he says. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Well, you're doing a good job of pretending you have," you mutter.

"You think I'm good at it?"

You look up at him, and there's an unmistakable look of satisfaction on his face.

"You're terrible," you tell him. He doesn't seem offended by this, so you add, "But you're lucky you're hot, or I would have left."

His expression turns thoughtful.

"So," he starts. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. His gaze drops from your eyes, down to your lips, and then lower. He pulls you flush against him, his body warm and solid against yours. Your hands are pressed against his chest, and he leans down, until his mouth is close to your ear.

“Are you going to stop me?"

"No," you say. His answering smile is brilliant, and for a moment, you're afraid you might drown.

"Good," he says, and kisses you again.

The second kiss is even better than the first.

He's not hesitant anymore. He's not careful. He's kissing you like he can't get enough, like he's afraid he'll never kiss you again.

His hands are everywhere, sliding up under your shirt, across the flat of your stomach, over the curve of your waist. His thumbs trace the undersides of your breasts, and his teeth tug at your bottom lip. You gasp, and arch into him.

He presses his lips to your neck, and the sound you make is obscene.

You can't think.

You're not sure why he wants you. You're not sure why he's chosen you. But, stars, you want him.

"Hunter," you say. Your voice sounds ragged and desperate, and he groans and presses his mouth to the hollow of your throat.

"This," he says, and his voice is low, and rough, and it sends a shiver down your spine, "is why I've been touching you."

You laugh, a little unsteadily, and run your fingers through his hair, scratching gently at the base of his skull. His reaction is immediate, his breath catching, his mouth opening wider, his hips rocking against yours.

He kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth, and your thoughts scatter. You can't think, can't breathe.

The third kiss is a long, slow, lazy exploration. You kiss him until your legs are weak, and your head is spinning. You kiss him until your lips are swollen and you're breathless. And then you kiss him some more, because you’re still not ready to stop.

"We should," he says, and then doesn't finish the sentence. It doesn't matter, because you know what he's going to say.

"We should," you agree, and you lean into him and rest your forehead on his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, and the sensation is pleasant. It's warm and soft and comfortable.

The fourth kiss is gentle, and soft, and you can't help but feel like it's more of a promise than anything else.

The fifth kiss is the one that makes you realize, with absolute certainty, that you're doomed.

Hunter kisses you whenever he can.

You don't even have time to be nervous about it, because he doesn't wait for privacy.

In the hangar, before a mission, he leans over you, and tilts your chin up with his fingers, and presses a kiss to your mouth. It's a soft, quick, brush of his lips, and it's so brief, you're not sure it happened.

At Cid's, in the bar, where everyone can see, he reaches over and touches the back of your hand. His thumb strokes the sensitive skin on the inside of your wrist. He leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth. The gesture is casual, and easy, and no one seems to notice. Or no one seems to care.

He does it in front of the others, and you wonder if this is his way of telling them that he wants you and that he doesn't care if they know. You wonder if he's trying to tell you that he's serious, or if he's simply testing the boundaries of his own attraction. You wish he would just tell you what he's thinking.

But you're not going to complain.

When the two of you are alone on the ship, and there's no chance of being interrupted, he does something a little less casual. He grabs your waist and pushes you against the nearest wall, and kisses you until your toes curl.

Every time, you're not sure it's going to happen. Every time, you're waiting for him to get bored, or annoyed, or change his mind.

Every time, he kisses you like he means it.

Sometimes, when he pulls away, his hands are shaking.

You know how he feels.

Every time he kisses you, it takes you by surprise. You're always caught off guard by the way he looks at you. The way his gaze roves over your face, his eyes dark and intense, his brow furrowed. 

You're always surprised by the way he smiles when he sees you. It's a small, shy smile, but it's full of affection. You're always shocked by the way he touches you. You're not used to being touched, not like this, not casually, and not with the same gentleness that he uses.

You're not used to it.

But you think you could get used to it.

You want to.

This evening the rest of the squad is out, scattering to enjoy the night before the next job. Hunter has asked you to stay behind.

He's told the others that you're both busy.

He's told them that the two of you are planning the next mission.

He hasn't told them that the two of you are spending a rare night alone together, and have every intention of enjoying it.

As soon as the others are gone, the ramp closing behind them, Hunter turns to you.

"We're not planning the mission, are we?" you ask, even though you know the answer.

"No," he says, and steps towards you. "We're not."

His hand comes up, and his fingers are soft as they cup your cheek.

"Good," you reply. "That was a terrible lie."

He laughs, and the sound warms your heart. You're not sure you've ever seen him so relaxed, so happy. He looks younger, less worried, less tense. You're not sure what's changed.

You don't ask.

He doesn't tell.

He’s far too busy pulling you into his lap, and kissing you until your knees are weak.

His hands are everywhere. On your face. Your neck. Your back. Your waist. They're warm, and strong, and possessive, and his lips are firm, and insistent, and soft, and kriff, he's a really, really good kisser. How he went from being bad at this to being so good, so quickly, you have no idea.

This kiss is a little rough, and a little needy. His hands are on your thighs, holding you in place, and his body is pressed against yours. He's not shy about letting you know that he wants you. He's forgone half of his armor today, and you can feel the insistent press of his cock, hard and straining against his pants.

You want nothing more than to wrap your hand around it, and stroke it, and feel him pulse and spill his seed over your fingers. He'd make the most incredible noises, and his face would flush, and he'd look at you with that dazed, overwhelmed expression he gets, and you want him so badly, it almost hurts.

His hips jerk forward, and you moan into his mouth. He breaks away from you, and presses his face into the curve of your neck. He's breathing hard, and his breath is warm on your skin.

"You're really good at this," he says, and you can't help the laughter that bubbles out of you.

"You're terrible," you tease. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because it's true," he murmurs.

You run your hands up his back and scratch lightly at the base of his neck. He shivers, and his fingers tighten on your thighs.

"Good at flirting." He leans in and kisses the hollow of your throat. "Very, very good."

"Stop," you say, laughing, and your face is burning. You're embarrassed by the praise, and the fact that he can feel how warm you are. He can hear your heartbeat. He can probably smell how wet you are.

He chuckles against your skin.

"Why would I do that?" he murmurs. His mouth moves up, and his lips are warm on the underside of your jaw. "I can tell how much you like it."

"Hunter," you hiss. Your voice sounds strained, you almost don't recognize it. He kisses the soft skin just below your ear, his tongue darting out to taste you, and your brain short-circuits.

“I can hear it." There's a note of wonder in his voice, like he's amazed at the way you react to him. "Every time I touch you, your heartbeat gets a little faster."

"You've noticed that?"

"Yeah," he rasps, and the feeling of his voice vibrating through your skin makes you shiver, "I can't concentrate when I hear it. Every time I hear it, all I can think about is kissing you."

"Every time?"

"All the time," he murmurs. He kisses the spot behind your ear, and your toes curl. "You have no idea how distracting it is."

You can't think. All you can do is tilt your head to give him better access. His mouth is hot and wet and he's sucking lightly at the sensitive skin there. You moan softly. His grip on your thighs tightens.

"So," you say, and your voice is unsteady, "what are you going to do about it?"

He pulls away, and his hands slip up, his palms settling on your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. He looks at you, his gaze traveling over your face, and then dropping lower. You're acutely aware that he's staring at your mouth, and your whole body is buzzing with anticipation.

"Well," he says slowly, and the expression on his face is absolutely sinful, "I was hoping that I could touch you."

You swallow hard. You have to take a few seconds to get your voice working. "Where?" you ask.

He grins, and his eyes sparkle.

"Everywhere."

You nod.

You can feel his body tense, and then he's kissing you again, and you lose track of how many kisses the two of you have shared.

It doesn't matter.

This is the one that's going to ruin you.

This kiss is hard and fast and messy, and his hands are gripping your thighs, his hips are rocking up against yours, and you're grinding on his cock, and it's so good.

His hands slide under your shirt, and his fingertips brush the underside of your breasts. He groans into your mouth, and the sound goes straight to your clit. You grind down on him again, and his hands move up, palming your breasts, and he pinches your nipples between his fingers. The feeling is so sharp and sweet, that you have to pull away from the kiss, gasping for breath.

His mouth is immediately on your neck, his lips warm and wet on your skin. He kisses his way down, across the curve of your shoulder, and bites down on the tender skin of your collarbone. You can feel the sharp edge of his teeth, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

"Fuck," you whisper.

His mouth is still on your skin, but he laughs.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He runs his tongue over the bite mark. "Did that hurt?"

"Yeah," you say. Your voice is unsteady. "I liked it."

He growls, and his mouth is on yours again. His tongue slips past your lips, and you suck on it, and the sound he makes is so desperate, and so needy, that you have to grind down on his cock again. You can feel him straining against his pants, hard and thick, and you can't wait to get your hands on him.

"Hunter," you manage, and his name comes out like a whine.

"Yes," he says, his mouth pressed against the base of your throat, "anything, just tell me."

"I want to suck your cock."

He freezes.

His entire body goes tense, and he pulls away and stares at you. His eyes go wide, and his lips part. It’s the same look he gave you when you kissed him for the first time, and you can't get over the fact that this, somehow, is more surprising than the kiss.

"Do you want that?" you ask, because maybe he doesn't. Maybe you've read the situation wrong. Maybe you've misjudged his reaction, and now you've made a fool of yourself. You’ve never had anyone turn you down before, but this isn't just anyone. This is Hunter.

He doesn't say anything, but he nods, and the expression on his face is a little dazed, and a lot hungry. His pupils are blown, and his breathing is shallow. He looks wrecked. You've barely touched him, and already, he's a mess.

You've never had anyone look at you like this. It makes you feel powerful and a little bit smug.

"Yes," he says.

"Can I?"

"Yes," he repeats.

He doesn't seem inclined to move, so you slide off his lap, and get to your knees in front of him. When he sees you on the floor, looking up at him, his mouth drops open a little more, and his cock twitches. You can see it straining against his pants.

You want your mouth on him so badly, you're afraid you might pass out. You lick your lips, shifting slightly to ease the ache between your legs. His eyes follow the motion, and he takes a deep breath before reaching for his belt.

He unbuckles it, and pops the button on his pants, and you lean forward, and help him pull them down. His cock springs free, hard and thick and curved, and the tip is already slick and shiny with precome. It’s just as beautiful as the rest of him.

He shifts a little, and you put your hands on his thighs and run the tip of your tongue over the head. The taste is salty and bitter and familiar, and the sound he makes is so needy, you can't help but moan.

"Oh," he says.

He sounds shocked.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes."

He's looking down at you, his mouth still open, his face flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You wrap your hand around his cock, and he inhales sharply.

"Is this okay?" you ask.

"Yeah."

You lean forward, and kiss the head, and he exhales.

"It's good," he says, and the words are strained.

"I'm glad," you say with a smile.

"You're very...considerate," he says. Your smile widens. You have to hide your grin by pressing a kiss to the side of his cock. His hips jerk forward, and the moan he makes is delicious.

"I'm a nice person."

"You are," he agrees. His voice is rough. "You're a very nice person."

His head falls back, his words dissolving into a groan as you take him into your mouth. The noise he makes is so beautiful, you can't help but moan. 

The vibrations must feel good, because his hips jerk, and he makes a choked sound in the back of his throat. The motion forces him deeper, and you have to concentrate to relax, and take him without gagging.

He's thick, and long, and hot, and the way he's trembling and moaning above you makes you feel powerful. It's a little heady, knowing that you're the one who has reduced him to this. You can feel him struggling not to move, and the effort it takes is evident in the way his body is taut, and the tension in his muscles. He's fighting the urge to thrust. 

You're not sure how much longer he'll be able to resist, and you can't wait. 

You want him to let go. You want him to fuck your mouth. You want him to come on your face. You want him to grab your hair, and use your mouth, and fuck you until you're a mess, and he can't hold himself back any longer.

Your hand is still wrapped around the base of his cock, and you take him as deep as you can. The sounds of his pleasure are intoxicating. You can't get enough of them. 

He's breathing heavily, his hands are clenched into fists, and when you pull back, and slide your tongue up the length of his shaft, his hips jerk. You moan again, and he curses and grabs your shoulders. You think he's going to pull you off of him, but instead, he's trying to drag you closer. He's trying to pull you towards him. He's trying to force his cock further into your mouth.

You look up at him, and the expression on his face is desperate, and lost. He's so close. He's barely hanging on. You want him to come. You want him to use you. You want him to give himself to you, and take everything you have to offer.

The hand you have braced on his thigh squeezes as you relax your jaw, and Hunter's eyes shoot open. The expression on his face is somewhere between awe and fear, and his body is tense, like a bowstring, drawn tight and ready to snap.

You squeeze your hand again, and he lets out a harsh breath. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head before his hips start to move, and then he's fucking your mouth.

It's rough. It's sloppy. It's perfect. His movements are frantic and uneven, and it's clear that he's not going to last. His grip on your hair tightens, and he fucks your mouth in quick, hard, strokes. It's so good, the feeling of him filling you, his cock sliding in and out, hitting the back of your throat. He's making the most beautiful noises, and you can't believe that you're the one making him sound like this. It's almost too much.

You look up at him through your lashes, and the sight is so overwhelming, that you can't stop the whine that escapes you. A flood of arousal pools between your legs.

His nostrils flare as his eyes flicker down to meet yours. He groans and fucks your mouth harder. You moan and arch into him. You're dripping with need. You can feel your underwear sticking to your cunt, and it's distracting.

"Fuck," he says, his voice hoarse, "are you getting off on this?"

You moan again. You can't help it. It's a reflex.

"Fuck," he hisses again. "Do you like it?"

You moan louder, and his breath catches. His movements stutter, and his grip on your hair tightens.

"You do," he says, and the look on his face is dazed, and disbelieving.

You squeeze his thigh, and he curses. His hand leaves your hair, moving down to wrap around the back of your neck. He pulls you closer, his hips bucking, and he's not pulling away now. He's holding you in place, forcing his cock deeper, and you relax your throat and take him.

"Good girl," he murmurs. The praise hits you like a blow, and you can't help but whine. "Fuck. That's good."

You whimper, and Hunter's hips stutter, and then he's coming. His grip on the back of your neck tightens, and his eyes slam shut. His whole body is tense, his thighs trembling, his cock pulsing as he spills down your throat. It's a lot, you can't swallow fast enough, and it drips out of the corners of your mouth. He's still making these helpless little sounds, and you can't tear your eyes away from him. You want to burn the memory into your brain.

He's beautiful. He's perfect. And you're pretty sure you're going to be ruined for anyone else.

You pull off of him slowly, and his hand drops from the back of your neck. His eyes flutter open to watch you catch the last bit of come on your tongue, and he inhales sharply. The sound is rough and broken, and when you lick your lips, he curses.

You smile at him, and he shakes his head.

"Shit," he breathes.

"How was that?"

"I...you...uh," he trails off, and gestures vaguely. "I can't. Words."

You laugh, and stand up, and press a kiss to the side of his jaw. Hunter turns his head, and kisses you. It's a soft, slow kiss, and you melt into it.

His hands are gentle on your waist, and when the kiss ends, he pulls you close, and holds you tight. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, and sighs.

"You okay?" you ask.

Hunter hums a response, and kisses your neck, and then your jaw, and finally, your mouth. He cups your cheek, and brushes his thumb across your lips, and then kisses you again, and the gentleness of it makes you dizzy. He kisses you until you're breathless, and then pulls away, and rests his forehead against yours.

"What do you need?" he asks. His voice is soft and low, and the concern in his voice makes you flush.

"What do I need?" you repeat. You're not sure what he's asking. You're not sure if he's asking.

"Yeah," he says. "It's only fair."

"You don't have to do anything," you say, a little awkwardly. "I was having a good time."

"I know," he replies, and the smugness in his tone makes you roll your eyes, "but I want to."

"Hunter…" you start, but you're not sure how to finish.

He doesn't seem concerned by this.

"You like being praised," he says. He's looking at you with an expression that's far too serious. You want him to stop. "And you like being held down. Is there anything else?"

"You figured all that out just now?" you ask. Your cheeks are burning. He can't tell what you like. You've barely started. This can't be happening. It has to be a coincidence. You can't be that easy to read. "We've barely done anything."

"I've been paying attention."

"That's..." you trail off. You're not sure what the word is. Embarrassing? Flattering? Surprising?

You keep forgetting how observant he is. It's unnerving, and thrilling, and a little overwhelming. 

"Why?"

He's quiet for a moment.

"Because I care about you," he says finally.

"You do?"

"Yeah," he says. There's no hesitation. No doubt. "I care about you."

"I care about you, too," you say.

"So," he continues, "can I touch you?"

You nod, and Hunter grins, and kisses you again.

"Come here," he says. He stands, tucking himself back into his pants before he takes your hand and leads you over to his bunk. He sits down on the edge and pulls you into his lap, and then his mouth is back on yours. 

The kiss is messy and uncoordinated, his lips soft and insistent, and he tastes like sweat and sex. You're a little dizzy, and the way he's kissing you isn't helping. It's distracting, and overwhelming, and when his fingers brush over the top of your breast, the sensation is so intense that you can't help but grind down on his thigh.

He makes a small, surprised sound, and his hands find your hips. The world blurs for a moment as he turns and presses you into the mattress. He's above you, his body a warm, solid weight, pinning you to the bed. You wrap your legs around his waist, and arch up, and he groans, and bites down on your shoulder.

"Shit," you gasp.

"Sorry," he says. He doesn't sound sorry.

"It's fine," you breathe. His mouth is still on your shoulder, and he sucks on the spot he just bit. You moan, and your head falls back. "Oh."

"Good?"

"Yes," you pant, and his hands slide up under your shirt. His thumbs trace the curves of your breasts, and he pushes the fabric up until he can expose your chest. His gaze drops, and his eyes widen.

"Kriff, you're gorgeous," he murmurs. Hunter braces himself on one hand and traces the swell of your breast with the other. He runs his fingers over the curve of your waist, and then drags his thumb over the underside of your breast. His eyes are fixed on the way your flesh dimples beneath his touch. "How are you so soft?"

He leans down and kisses the top of your breast, and then nuzzles his face between them.

"I want to touch every inch of you," he whispers, and the sensation of his breath on your skin is maddening. His hair tickles your chest as he moves his mouth to the valley between your breasts. "I want to kiss every part of you."

He presses a line of kisses up the slope of your breast, and then his lips close around your nipple, and you gasp. Your back arches, and your hands scrabble for purchase on the blankets. He sucks and scrapes his teeth across the sensitive bud, and then lets go, and moves his mouth to the other side. His fingers toy with the nipple he just abandoned, and you whine. He's being gentle, and slow, and thorough, and you're not sure how much longer you can take it.

"You're sensitive," he says, and he sounds delighted.

"You're taking too long," you manage.

He laughs, and the vibration from his voice, and the warmth of his breath on your skin, makes your toes curl.

"Patience," he says, and then his mouth is on your nipple again, and the sound that escapes you is half laugh, half moan.

He switches back and forth, sucking, licking, and biting. The movements are teasing and deliberate, and by the time he finally pulls away, your skin is red, and sore, and slick.

"Hunter," you whimper. You want more, you need more, and you're not sure how much longer you can last. "Hunter, please."

He doesn't answer, but he sits up and pulls your shirt over your head, and then reaches for the button of your pants. His fingers are steady, and sure, and his expression is intense. He's focused on the task at hand, and the look of concentration on his face is adorable. You want to laugh, but it's cut off by a gasp as he slips his hand beneath your underwear, and runs his fingers along the seam of your cunt.

"Shit," he breathes, and his voice is strained. His eyes are wide and bright, and his face is flushed. His pupils are blown, and his nostrils are flared.

You're not sure why, but the way he's looking at you makes your cheeks burn.

"Sorry," you mutter.

He gives you a startled look, and shakes his head.

"What?" he asks.

"It's embarrassing," you admit. "I'm...it's a lot."

"Embarrassing?"

You shrug, and look away, and then he's cupping your face in his hand, and tilting your head back. His touch is gentle, and the kiss he gives you is tender. It's soft and sweet and slow, and when he breaks the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours.

"Nothing about you is embarrassing," he murmurs.

"You don't have to say that."

"I mean it."

He looks you in the eye, and his expression is so sincere, so earnest, that your heart clenches.

"It's not embarrassing," he says, and there's a finality in his tone, like he's daring you to disagree with him.

"Okay," you reply, a little weakly.

"Okay." He kisses you again, and it's quick, and chaste, and sweet. He presses a line of kisses up your jaw, and then his mouth is on your ear. "Do you know how many times I've thought about this?" he asks.

You shake your head, and he chuckles. His breath is warm against the side of your face, and his lips are soft on your skin. You can't help but squirm.

"A lot," he whispers, and you feel his mouth curve into a smile. "So much."

His fingers are still stroking you, and when they press against your entrance, you whimper. He teases you, his fingers circling your opening, spreading the wetness that's already leaking out of you. It's driving you crazy, and he's not helping.

"Every time you're near me, I want to touch you," he continues. His mouth moves back down your neck, and he presses a kiss to your collarbone. "Every time you get wet, it drives me crazy."

"You can't be serious," you gasp. His fingers are still teasing you, and you want them inside you. "You can't smell that."

He pauses. His mouth is on the swell of your breast, and his tongue is tracing lazy patterns across your skin. He leans back and looks you in the eye.

"Of course I can," he says.

"How is that possible?"

"The same way I can smell everything else," he says, a little absently, and then leans down and runs his tongue across your nipple. You let out a shaky breath, and he glances up at you. "I've had to go jerk off in the 'fresher, just so I can focus."

"You're joking," you say, because there's no way. It can't be true. There's no way he's attracted to you that much. No one has ever been that attracted to you.

"Not joking," he murmurs. He bites down on the underside of your breast, and then his mouth moves down your stomach. His fingers hook into the waistband of your pants, and he tugs them down and throws them to the side along with your soaked underwear. His eyes are on your cunt, and the look on his face is a little awed, a little hungry, and a lot smug.

"Fuck," he breathes, and the tone of his voice makes your pulse jump. He leans forward and runs the tip of his nose over your pubic bone. You can't help but shiver. His breath is warm against your cunt, and his lips brush over your clit as he speaks. "You're so beautiful. So, so beautiful."

He presses a kiss to the top of your mound, and then his tongue is on you. His hands grip the inside of your thighs, pushing them up and apart, and the first lick is firm and confident, and it sends a jolt through your whole body.

"You taste amazing," he whispers.

You laugh, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that?

He takes it as an invitation.

"So fucking good," he murmurs, and then he's licking you in earnest. He licks up the length of your slit, his tongue dipping inside, and then he drags it across your clit. You let out a strangled cry as he flicks the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bud, and your hands fly up to grab the back of his head.

"Hunter," you say, and it's supposed to come out as a warning, but it's too breathy, and too needy. He hums in response, and the vibrations from the noise make you clench around nothing.

"You're so wet," he murmurs. His breath is hot against your skin, and his voice is hoarse. "So wet, and so soft."

He licks his way back down, and pushes his tongue inside you. You cry out, and the noise is loud and obscene. It echoes in the small room, and you've never been so grateful for Hunter's enhanced senses. He's always seemed to know what to do, and he's not letting you down now. 

He fucks you with his tongue, and it's fast and sloppy, and he's making these needy little noises that send shivers down your spine. His nose grinds into your clit, and his tongue is pressing into the front wall of your cunt, and kriff, the feeling is incredible. It's overwhelming. You can feel the orgasm building, the pressure rising, and it's too much. You can't handle it.

You try to pull away, but his hands tighten on the back of your thighs, and he doesn't let you go. Instead, he doubles down. His tongue speeds up, and the motions are rougher, and more frantic. His teeth graze over your clit, and his lips wrap around the bud, and he sucks, hard. 

Your vision whites out, and you can't hear anything but the rush of blood in your ears. Every muscle in your body locks up, and then your release hits you, and you're lost.

Your back arches off the bed, your fingers tightening in Hunter's hair as you grind down on his mouth. The sound you make is raw, and broken, and you don't recognize your own voice. The pleasure is so intense, it almost hurts. 

A flood of wetness spills out of you, and Hunter moans. The sound is muffled by your cunt, and his mouth is still on you, and you can't stop yourself from moving against him. You keep riding his face, even though the sensation is overwhelming, and your hips stutter as you push against his mouth. 

You're not sure how long it lasts, and when the haze finally lifts, your body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Hunter's lips are still on you. He's still licking and sucking and kissing you, and it's too much.

"Stop," you say, and push his face away.

"Did you...?"

"Yes," you say. Your voice is unsteady. You're a little breathless.

"Are you sure?"

"Very," you reply.

"Oh," he says. He sounds dazed. "That was fast."

"Hunter."

"You were really turned on," he says. His eyes are bright, and he's looking at you like he can't quite believe what just happened. His mouth and chin are soaked with your slick, and the sight of him, flushed and disheveled, sends a rush of heat through your veins. "Was it that good?"

You laugh. You can't help it.

"Yes," you say. "I told you, I was already worked up."

"You really like me that much?"

You roll your eyes.

"Yeah, I do," you say. "Now you're just fishing for compliments."

"Maybe," he replies. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and when it lowers, he's smiling. His eyes are sparkling, and the expression on his face makes you ache. "It's nice to be wanted."

"Get up here and kiss me," you say, and reach for him. The kiss is deep and slow, and it's a little sloppy. The taste of him mixed with the taste of yourself makes your toes curl. 

"But I also want to know what I did right for next time," he says as you break apart.

"Next time?"

"Yeah," he murmurs. He rolls over and pulls you on top of him. "Next time."

"You're very confident," you tease. You prop yourself up on his chest and smile down at him. His eyes are closed, and the look on his face is serene. He's happy. You did that.

"I am," he says. He cracks open an eye. "Was I wrong?"

"No."

"Good," he says. He reaches up and brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I meant what I said before. I like you."

"You're such a sap," you say. Your cheeks are burning, and your chest feels tight.

"Don't tell the others," he says. His voice is solemn. "I have a reputation to uphold."

"What do I get in return?"

"Hmmm," he murmurs. The sound is a little thoughtful, a little smug. He slides his hands down and palms your ass. "I can think of a few things."

"You have a deal," you say. You lean down and kiss him again. You're not sure how much longer you'll get to spend like this. You'll take every second you can get.

He rolls over and pins you to the bed, and when he kisses you, you lose track of how many times his mouth touches yours.

It doesn't matter.

This one is just the beginning.

Taglist: @covert1ntrovert @bruh-myguy-what @baddest-batchers @spicy-clones @qvnthesia

@arctrooper69 @heidnspeak @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @cw80831

@lovelytech9902 @etod @lordofthenerds97 @umekohiganbana @chocolatewastelandtriumph

[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 3)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, canon typical violence (mostly all off screen), descriptions of dead/dismembered bodies, reader is injured (leg injury and slapped), the kidnapper emotionally manipulates the reader, on page murder. Author's note: Thank you so much for all the support it's been crazy!!! This chapter is a bit intense, I'm not going to lie. We just need to hold hands and get through this. But I swear, the next part of this will be sooo tooth rottingly sweet. It's so long that I actually had to make this five parts lmao. I could not stop with the comfort and softness. ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know. If I forgot someone I'm so sorry!!): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o  @thedevilsaysthings @jaeyuni @redmitsuru5 @jeffs77 @spideybv28 @trumanbluee @jennapearce13 @chxrrybomb22 @7soulstars @what-the-jams @lostinheavensworld @purplestars222 @movieat @whiskeyghoul @paintballkid711 @unmotivated-artist164 @sun7lowxr @minniekitties @ceobuggy @amararoseblog @harryshousewhore

The first thing I felt was rough rope as it scraped against my skin. I worked my eyes open, the task feeling too great. I was strapped to an old chair. Nausea swirled in my head as I tried to take in my surroundings. It was a plain, nondescript gray room. The walls were concrete. In the middle of the room, directly in front of me, was a large iron door. It looked like something you would find in a bomb shelter. Around my chair were shafts of moonlight provided by a skylight above. There was a bite in the air that made me shiver. My breathing was uneven as I weakly struggled against the ropes. 

“I see you’re awake. Wonderful.” The man with ice cold eyes appeared from the corner of my vision, a folder in his hand. “I don’t want to waste either of our time.” He lugged a metal chair in front of me and I cringed at the horrible screech as it echoed around the room. “Where is Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett?” I blinked, my brain foggy. 

“I don't know who those people are.” The man tsked. There was a flash of anger across his calm face before it was replaced by cool indifference. 

“Bullshit, we see you coming in and out of their apartment.” My stomach churned, either from whatever they shot me with or from the creeping anxiety.

“Oh you mean Al’s roommates? I work for social services for her. I don’t know anything about them.” The man grinned. It was vicious and predatory. 

“You are a bad liar.”He sat on the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Why do we have photos of you with both men? What? One not enough for you?” He flicked open the folder and pulled out two pictures. One was of Logan and I on the fire escape. It had been captured at the perfect moment to have clear shots of our profiles in it. The other was of Wade and I at the bar. No, not just the bar, the bathroom. I was half exposed, Wade’s face against my bare breast. The woman who interrupted us had worked for him. Now I was actually going to throw up. I had been followed for months at this point. “Now, I’m going to ask again. Where are they?” 

“They don’t tell me about their jobs, I swear. Please just let me go.” The man shook his head with a hum, sounding like a disappointed teacher, sliding the photos back into the folder. 

“I’ll leave you here for a couple days, see if that jogs your memory.” Days? 

“Wait no! Please!” But he had already disappeared through the metal door. In the doorway, I saw a woman waiting. I blinked in shock. The woman, the one from the dingy bar bathroom. She was the one who had taken our picture.  My kidnapper nodded at her before the heavy door thudded shut. Days did pass, the skylight allowing me to count by the motion of the sun. My body soon grew stiff and achy as I sat on the chair. I wanted to sleep, anything to pass the time, but I wasn’t able to calm my mind enough. The shadow of the woman never moved from the small window. I could feel her watching me, my arm hair standing up at the feeling. To distract myself, I thought of Wade and Logan, of them bursting in here and rescuing me in a blaze of glory. But as the days bled into one another, hope started to fade. 

The man reappeared after four days. He removed the chair from in front of me, opting to just stand. “Have you thought about your answer?” 

“I don’t know where they are.” It was the truth. They didn’t give me any information about their jobs. They could be on Everest for all I knew. 

“I don’t believe you!” He began to pace, wearing a line into the concrete floor. 

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me, it’s the truth.” He rushed at me suddenly, fingers digging brutally into my cheeks as he gripped me. My fists clenched as I forced myself not to jerk away. 

“Stop bullshitting me,” his voice was a venomous hiss. “Tell me now.”

“Do you not understand me?” My voice had lowered too, anger boiling inside me. “Get it through your fucking head that I. Don’t. Know. You are wasting your time. Let me go. Do it before they find me here. They’ll kill you before you can even try to fight back.” 

“Oh is that right?” I knew he was toying with me, but I fell stupidly into his trap anyways. I was angry and tired and so fucking scared. My brain was barely functioning. 

“Wade’s gonna make a necklace of your intestines.” 

The slap made a stomach churning crack. My mouth filled instantly with blood from my split lip. My cheek throbbed in the aftershocks. Tears pooled and trickled down my pulsating cheek. Another thunderous slap caught my other side. Blood splattered across my sweats. It was so hot, it practically burned through to my skin. 

“What a shame.” His hand wrapped in my hair, yanking my head back, neck stretched too far. The warm blood rushed down my throat and I gagged. “You had such a pretty face. I see why those two kept you around. It’s so nice to have some stress relief. But it seems that they’ve moved on to a better piece of meat now.” He winced when I spat at him, the saliva and blood sticking to his cheek. He touched it like he couldn’t believe it, rubbing it between his index finger and thumb. 

“When they get here they’re gonna eat you fucking alive!!” His face twisted in rage. His grip tore at my hair as he ripped my head to the side. Something pricked my neck, cool liquid rushing through my veins. My vision began to fog, body feeling too dense, brain going fuzzy. 

“Sleep well.” 

It had been days. 

I watched the sun beams make their slow progression across the dusty floor, only to be replaced by the darkness of night. My face still stung and my lip kept dripping blood. I called to the woman who was still standing there, hoping that she would take mercy and help me. But I might as well have been shouting at the wall. No one came. No one helped. All I could do was wallow in my pain and loneliness. Maybe they had really abandoned me. What was I to them anyways? Exactly what he said, stress relief. Nothing more than a convenient body. Something to pass the time. If I was worth anything, they would have been here.

My eyes had just slipped shut, head lolling to my shoulder, when the door opened. “Good morning!” It was him. My shoulders slumped, hoping I could just ignore him, that he was just some hallucination. “Your saviors haven’t appeared. So we have come up with a solution.” I opened my bleary eyes when I heard the chair in front of me creak. He clutched my phone in one hand and a wickedly sharp knife in the other. He swiped my phone open before clicking on the screen. I could hear ringing and then someone picked it up on the second one. My eyes were fixated on the knife as he flipped it, catching the hilt each time. 

“Baby cakes?! Where are you? What happened?” Wade’s voice was horrifyingly panicked. 

“Aw baby cakes?” The tip of his knife traced my cheekbone and I held my breath, hoping I wouldn't flinch and cut myself. “What a cute name.” 

“It’s not as cute when you say it,” I grumbled. My voice was thick through my swollen lip. 

“What happened? Why do you sound like you have cotton in your mouth?” The man pinched my busted lip, fresh blood bursting forward, and I whined in pain. My nails bit into my palms. Over the line, I heard a growl, letting me know Logan was also listening in. 

“Sometimes I just don’t know how to handle myself around such a pretty lady.” Wade let off a string of choice swears and Logan snarled. “She has such a naughty mouth. I see why you keep her around. But it seems you’ve left her for good, huh? She won’t be too pretty once I’m done with her.” 

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” Logan was spitting in rage. “If you do I swear I’ll rip that worm you call a dick and ram it down your throat.” I smiled despite myself, something warm unfurling in my chest. They were still trying to find me. After over a week, they were still hunting. 

“I told you,” I hissed, “they are going to eat you alive.” 

There was a split moment where I knew I had fucked up. His eyes snapped to me, lips pulled back in a horrifying smile.

Then the knife flashed.

The pain in my leg was indescribable. I thrashed, desperate to escape the blade stuck through my thigh. I knew I was screaming but I couldn’t hear it over the pounding in my ears. Fresh blood from my lip and tears traveled down my chin. More blood pooled under my thigh, soaking into my ruined pants. I was only faintly aware that others were shouting and someone was laughing. 

His hand hammered the knife in deeper, the wood seat cracking under me, the hilt flush with my leg. I wailed, pleading sobs of mercy clogging my throat. “Stop moving so much.” There was more shouting. My head knocked against the back of my chair. The corners of my vision grew dark. “Do you want to say goodbye? Who knows if you’ll make it to see them.” All I could do was weakly whimper. “She seems preoccupied. I’ll see you two soon.” He tapped my face, the force just under another slap. “You sound so nice screaming. Maybe I will actually keep you around.” 

He left me like this, bleeding, trembling, pinned to the chair like a piece of meat. More days passed and the bleeding didn’t stop. It wasn’t normal. I should have died like this. Cold was lingering on my skin and small shivers racked my body. My bare feet had long gone numb. Someone, my foggy vision only registered them as a blob of white, entered the room. They carefully removed the knife and then eased me out of my pants. They methodically stitched my skin together, the haze of shock covered the pain of the stitches. Once a thick white bandage covered the wound, they turned and left. 

On the fourteenth day, I heard shouting. Then gunshots. My head jerked from where I had been sleeping. Panic spiked. I needed to run. “Fuck,” I mumbled, looking around desperately for something, anything, to save me. The room was mostly bare besides a table against the opposite wall. Then I saw it. 

The knife. 

I tried to wiggle closer, but failed to move an inch. “Fuck,” I repeated, desperate now. More shouting and gunshots, closer this time. The more I fidgeted, the more of the seat fell away from under me. Think think think. I continued to sway, lifting the chair onto its sides before it cracked against the floor as it fell. Then I heard a splinter in one of the legs. I took a breath to steel myself before I tipped myself completely over. I nearly sobbed in relief when the chair leg connected to my uninjured leg was the one that snapped off. I awkwardly propelled myself across the scratchy ground, the exposed skin on my left side becoming ragged. The rope on my left wrist began to fray, just enough that when I got to the table, I was able to yank my hand off and reach blindly for the knife. The blade caught my palm but I gripped it tightly, ignoring the bite of pain. 

I made quick work of my other binds, the knife almost slipping from my wet grip, and rose to my freezing feet. My injured leg protested instantly, nearly giving out when I put weight down. But I had to run, had to escape. I limped toward the door, and looked through the small window. I couldn’t see anyone, but I heard screaming. I had to yank hard on the door to get it open. There was a dead end to the right and a long twisty hallway to my left. I took a few tentative steps out. When no alarm sounded, I sprinted. 

The stitches in my thigh ripped right away. I couldn’t think about the pain. Only escape. I clutched my stolen knife close and ducked into any small nook I could when I heard people thundering by. I should have followed them, maybe found an exit, but the squelching sounds of limbs being severed launched me forward. I turned left, left, right, middle at a fork, up a flight of stairs. I was hopelessly lost but all I could think of was escape, running on pure instinct to find it.  

The smell of blood hit me first as I turned a corner. Body parts were strewn across the wide room. Intestines dangled from the ceiling beams. Heads, half crushed, lolled away from their torsos. I wretched, nothing came up besides bile. But I could see outside through large bay windows. My legs were like water under me as I moved to the door. I stepped on an eyeball, the firm jelly bursting between my toes. Just keep going. My head was swimming, nausea from the gore around me mingling with the searing pain in my leg. 

I collapsed. I could barely feel the pain as my hands slammed down on broken glass. Then I heard two men’s voices. I scrambled to hide behind a stack of boxes, jamming my sore body into the smallest crack I could find. “I know she’s in here, can smell her.” My knuckles turned white around the knife. My breath was weak, I had lost too much blood. 

“Could you maybe sound less like a pervy vampire?” I heard boots lightly hitting the floor as they spread out. “Do you think this scared her?” He sounded timid, maybe even a little afraid. The first man laughed. 

“What do you think? You pulled this guy’s entire spine out! Of course she’s fucking scared!” The shout made me jump, huddling deeper into my hiding spot. “Fucking idiot.” A pair of red boots passed my hiding spot, then planted back in front of me. I sucked in a breath as fear rippled through me. My eyes closed tight.

“Hey,” the voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “There you are.” I was so on edge, so terrified, that the hand with the knife whipped out on pure impulse. The tip pushed through something firm, before that gave way to softness. It sunk deep, blood rapidly flowing over my hand. I couldn’t open my eyes. I had attacked someone and they were bleeding all over me. My victim barely made a noise when I stabbed them. 

“You can let go of the knife, you're okay.” A hand caressed my face and my teeth sunk into the leather glove, jaw latched tight. I felt like a cornered animal, ready to tear into anything that came near. “Sweetheart,” the name, the voice, pulled me back. I released the hand and opened my blurry eyes. Logan and Wade were squatted down in front of me. Their faces were covered but I recognized the suits. 

My knife was stuck through Wade’s neck. 

“Wade,” my voice shattered, tears welling. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t see it was you.” He pulled the blade out with a little grunt. There was a hole straight through his throat. My stomach churned again but I held it back. The muscles and tendons laced together rapidly before the skin closed over it completely. 

“Don’t apologize. I said the height of romance was stabbing, didn't I?” Logan reached out again and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. A frown drew down his lips when he saw the bruises on my cheeks. “What do you say we get you out of here, yeah? I don’t think extreme violence is really your scene.” 

Logan was examining my leg the best he could without touching me. I could hear him sniffing as he leaned closer. “We need to take her to a doctor. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“They stitched me up but I think all of them have ripped now.” My head felt so heavy. “My fingers are cold…is that normal?” 

“We have to carry you out, is that okay?” As Logan asked, Wade was already reaching for me. He scooped me into his arms and clutched me tight to him. I hissed as my thigh stretched, head falling heavily against Wade’s chest. Logan walked beside us and I reached blindly for his hand. He gave it a small kiss, but didn’t hold it. 

After two weeks, I was safe. 

I was safe. 

But we had to get out of this building first. Logan walked a head to peer down corners before signaling we could move forward. Wade moved slowly, keeping a firm hold on me. He stayed uncharacteristically quiet. I felt limp and weak in his arms, ready to sink into sleep as soon as I could. To keep myself conscious, I tried to remember all our turns, but it felt like there was an impossible amount. There was a round of clicking and the shuffle of feet as we rounded a corner. 

“Ah shit.” 

“Fuck.” 

My sore eyes opened to find rows and rows of armed men. In front of them was him. There was a cruel smile on his face as he took me in. The woman was tucked behind him, her eyes pinned on me. “I see you pulled your stitches. You should have waited for me to get you instead of trying to run off on your own.” Logan snarled as his claws extended. 

“Listen here bub. I don’t make idle threats. So best believe I’m going to follow through with skinning you alive.” Wade moved suddenly, his back to the men. He moved far quicker than he had before. I heard men readjusting their guns, their anxiousness clear.

“And where are you going Mister Wilson?” 

“First off, Mister Wilson is my father.” I groaned as Wade placed me on the hard concrete floor, safely tucked behind a stack of boxes. He stood, “you can call me Marvel Jesus.” I watched with an unfocused gaze as his hand snapped open a holster and handed me the gun that it held. “Just dropping off special cargo.” I took it, my hands shook at the light weight. There was a flash of gold along the black metal but my hazy brain couldn’t make out the text. I carefully tucked it under my leg to hide it from view. Once that was done, Wade traveled back to Logan’s side. “What do you say darling?”

“Let’s fucking go.” My hands slapped over my ears at the thunderous noise of all those guns firing. I was desperate to drown out the screams, the wet slap of limbs falling to the floor. My first instinct was to take deep, calming breaths, but my nose was too full of the scent of iron. The time stretched, the fight going for hours. 

Just as a sense of shaky calm fell over me, hands grabbed me. I recoiled instantly. “Don’t be difficult.” It was him. He was trying to pick me up, trying to move me. But my body was dead weight and he struggled to lift me. Something cool pressed under my thigh. 

Now don’t be afraid of it. If you show fear around guns, you’ll end up shooting yourself in the foot. 

Okay, see this little switch? No, not me you insatiable minx. This. Get a feel for it. If you are ever in danger you have to know where it is right away. 

He was distracted, watching something over the boxes next to me, his arms suspended in mid air. A female scream cut through the rest of the deep shouts. That rush of time, the feeling that wasn’t easy to explain, snapped. I blinked in confusion. With the man’s focus somewhere else, I put every ounce of concentration into my hands, willing them to stay still, as I lifted the gun. I found the safety and flicked it back.

Now don’t get any big action hero dreams of just pulling this trigger and letting bullets fly. It requires a lot of force, so you have to pull the hammer back first. Make sure you hold it with both hands, okay? Last thing you need is a concussion from it flying back and hitting you in the head. 

My sweaty thumb slipped from the hammer. The movement seemed to catch the man’s attention. There was a split moment where neither of us moved. Then, as if in slow motion, he reached for his own gun. I raised mine and pressed the barrel to his forehead. Both of my index fingers wrapped around the trigger. I squeezed with every ounce of strength I had left. 

You can’t look away, pumpkin. 

You gotta make sure anyone who is trying to hurt you is dead. 

I didn’t. 

One second his head was there, eyes bulging in fear. The next, just a cloud of red remained. Squishy chunks of brain, shards of skull, and a splatter of blood went everywhere. It was in my mouth, in my hair, across my bare legs. All sound died and was replaced by a dull ringing. His body slumped before it fell. I stared at it, dark red spluttering from the exposed veins of his neck, the liquid pooling on the floor. The concrete was quick to drink it up. Logan was the first to appear at my feet. He took me in, his face unreadable under his mask. I saw his mouth move but it was jumbled, words half broken. I shook my head, tapping my ears. It was like a dial slowly moving up on the radio. The sound of bullet casings hitting the ground, screams of pain, the thud of bodies. 

“You alright?” Logan sounded panicked, his loud gruff voice cutting through the renewed sound. I nodded. “We’ll get you out of here, don’t worry sweetheart.” I nodded again. There was one last shout of agony before silence fell again. Logan maneuvered the dead man off me, throwing the body carelessly away. He slipped the gun from my sticky hands before hoisting me into his arms. I buried my face in his neck, taking in his scent. Sweet, earthy, the tang of sweat. 

“We got you. I got you, sweetheart. Always will.” 

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 3 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments on the couch

warnings (TW): mdni, contains mature/suggestive content, swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

tags: mature/suggestive content (in act iii), fluff, early relationship described, pining, affection

notes: please note that there is heavily implied/suggestive/mature content in act iii of this posting (after the second break)- if you do not wish to interact with this type of content i swear to you you can completely skip it if you like, i attempt to not tie TOO much significance to the written scene- and if you would prefer that the postings stray away from this kind of content i will attempt to better balance it in the future! i am in no shape or form a very “smutty” writer (mainly bc i have never written it), so i hope the scene isnt like… terrible ya know lol (also i don’t consider it much for “smut”- i am def using said word very loosly). annnnyyywayyys hope you enjoy and as always my dms are open for suggestions in the future and general conversation and encouragement! enjoy!

also to note! I believe the story is best read in order- i put certain dependences on certain words and bring descriptions back to really solidify the importance of certain scenes/interactions ! but completely up to you, lol

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked the up to date masterlist for this series- thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

| masterlist | part iv |

She had caught him sleeping on the couch in the early heat of June. 

They had a late night on the couch, discussing Ford’s margin notes and rewatching The Price is Wrong. Stan had a certain affinity for price matching, and she was more than a little stunned to learn of it the first couple of months they resided in the shack together. 

She just didn’t expect this 30-year-old man to know the price of most common household appliances. 

After his divulgence last month, in which he had confided a little bit of his background in sales, she began to piece together that although Stan considered himself a conman in every way but words, she considered it pure brilliance. 

So she quickly got used to late-night T.V. shows, as they discussed next steps back and forth, with Stan interrupting conversations to yell out extremely accurate prices at the small box T.V. in front of the couch. It had grown on her, actually, and had turned rather… endearing. 

If not also incredibly hilarious, as he was so passionate about his own accuracy he usually forgot his volume, and sometimes took to ranting at her. 

“Hun! Hun! This is a load of malarkey I tell ya! That vacuum price is way too high! It don’t even come with added nozzle attachments!” 

She would laugh, and he would revel in making her do so. 

They had concluded the night in a similar fashion, and she had stumbled up to her bedroom. The first one on the right from the stairs. But he had lingered in the living room, muttering about tidying up some soda cans and taking the trash out quickly. 

She had shrugged it off, giving her goodnight, and made her way up the stairs. She had fallen asleep so quickly, she hadn’t heard the usual meandering steps of Stan as he made for his own room across the hall from her. 

She almost never woke up before him, another thing that surprised her. She figured he was the type to doze in and out in the early morning, but he seemed to be quick to rise and even quicker to make a pot of coffee, usually stumbling down the stairs thirty minutes before she could manage to roll out of bed. 

So she thought it odd to look down the stairs and not see the usual kitchen light on, and the usual grumble of the shitty coffee machine either. 

She found him snoring on his back, the throw blanket she had brought with her half on half off him. It had grown a little muggy in the shack, due to the distinct lack of central air, but Stan’s solution seemed to be very simple. 

Just wear less clothes. 

Something that wouldn’t disturb her in the slightest, if it were not for, well… Stan. 

She was a scientist, a usual logical thinker, and only slightly prude (due to her upbringing), but she was no idiot, and she knew the man she was cohabitating with was attractive. 

I mean, he was also funny- made her laugh more times than she could count. He was oddly sincere for his age and even more oddly protective. He was flippantly affectionate and even more flippantly kind to her. 

And he was also shirtless. 

Something she takes note of instantly, instinctually. Whipping her head to make for the kitchen, and trying to forget the curve of his broad shoulders and the slight swell of his stomach. The smattering of dark hair on his chest all the way down to the crisp edge of the boxers she had folded two days ago. 

Coffee, coffee coffee! 

She didn’t make as good of a cup as he did, she had never had to before. Something he scoffed at, but quickly took to doing himself. He made it every morning, now. Always up before her, with her mug waiting for her by her worn kitchen chair. 

She turned to the stove instead, moving pans and turning on the burner. She’d make breakfast for them instead of her shitty burnt coffee special. Pulling eggs and bacon out of the small fridge she went to work. 

The smell woke him up, and she noted his groggy fumbling to redress himself. Glancing out the archway from kitchen to living room she watched him pass to the stairs, still shirtless. He takes the stairs two at a time, back up to his room to retrieve new clothes she presumed. 

He returns in minutes, in typical fashion it took him not too long to get ready in the morning. 

He walks in, still stretching, with hair muddled from sleep. A pair of work jeans that had seen a lot of love in the past month, and a shirt that was quickly growing too tight around his arms and shoulders. She decided to ignore that sliver of stomach that peaked out when he raised his arms a little too high, otherwise, the bacon would burn. 

He made his way to the coffee machine, beginning the usual morning routine as it spurred to life. Moving to the sink he began washing their shared mugs. 

Breakfast was always a little quiet like they both couldn’t be bothered to open their mouths beyond sating their appetite. They still moved the same, instinctually and without words. Falling into their unassigned assigned seats, Stan moving to grab her feet and drag them across his lap, while she moved the salt and pepper between them both. She always reached across to his plate, grabbing his toast to butter first and then moving to her own. 

She had decided to interrupt their usual silence this morning, looking across to Stan as he fumbled with the morning paper. He always went straight to the comics in the morning, hoping to pick up on a joke to read to her that day, hoping to make her laugh first before anything else in the morning. 

But she had thrown a wrench in his usual plan (that she still hadn’t picked up on yet). 

“Why were you on the couch?” She asked, biting around her toast. 

“It’s cooler down here hun.” 

“I know heat rises Stan, but the sun rises on my side of the house in the morning. It ain’t that hot upstairs yet. Is there something wrong with your bed?” 

When first rearranging rooms he had resolved to take Stanford's old one. He didn’t want her to have to live in the shell his brother had left behind. His more intimate nick-nacks and sticky notes had been scattered around what is now Stan’s room. Along with his random mismatched socks and sweater vests, and his cologne. And he didn’t want to think about having her live around the last remnants of Stanford, because she got this weird look in her eyes already when she retraced his brother's writings and he couldn’t stand it. He had lived with Stanford for eighteen years, and sometimes entering the room was at least therapeutic. 

Except Stanford always had a weird affinity for sleeping on the ground. 

It’s the main reason Stanley even had the top bunk during their preteen years to begin with, because Stanford would find himself stiff on the floor most mornings. His brother had a tendency to doze away on any hard surface he could rest his head on, starting at his desk most nights, moving to his bed, but usually rolling off it in favor of the floor. Stanford was… not one for restful sleep. And his hard ass mattress showed it. 

“Ya.” Stan muttered behind the newspaper. “‘Ford trying to fuck my back up from another dimension.” 

“You can have my bed?” She offered up her own mattress, one she had splurged on with her own money. He still remembers her playing Goldilocks that day at the flash mattress sale she had circled in the classifieds the week before. 

He shook his head at the memory, them both laying side by side on each bed as she had discussed odds and ends. She had argued that she needed approximately 5 minutes on each mattress to sink into each, and that she couldn’t be intrinsically thinking about her comfort when doing so. So she had him lay beside her and talk to her, as she flipped from her back to her side testing out her comfort and considered the gravelness of his voice. Until she had landed on the right bed, the tenth one, declaring it her perfect match as she looked over at him beside her. 

“Nah, I can’t take your perfect match, hun, your one true love.” He joked, folding up the newspaper with the comics up, setting it aside in favor of looking at her. “Besides my bed is fine for now. I just… sometimes I like being close to the door.” 

She hummed. “I can rearrange the living room today? Do you want to move your bed downstairs?” She hadn’t even questioned it, still searching for something to sate his comfort. 

He laughed at this, he would never let her rearrange things without him and she knew it. He had hovered something harsh those first three months, moving around most things for her as she pointed from object to object. 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I just, I ain’t used to sleeping in a room without a straight way out of it yet.” He admits, munching on his bacon, shrugging like he was discussing the weather. “So sometimes I just, sleep on the couch. No big deal.” 

She sits back in her seat, shock marring her face. He had spent so long hopping from place to place she had forgotten he hadn’t had a place to call home in a decade- besides his car. Something that may have four walls, but had no heart. 

Hotels, to cars, to floors of shelters, he had slept in questionable places for far too long, and in some cases Stanford’s room sometimes felt like a new prison, or at least reminded him of a certain Colombian one. Except this one contained taunting memories and a stupid amount of sweaters. 

It hurt more, to open his door to find hers closed, for some reason. He didn’t like the thought of her trapped either, nestled in a part of the house he couldn’t get to. But he didn’t know how to voice this to her without sounding mad in a way. Or obsessive maybe. 

She digs her toes into the junction of his ribs, grabbing his attention. She’s smiling across from him, and standing before he can ask why. Grabbing his hand, she pulls him up the stairs to their own parallel doors, not even hesitating to walk through the door Stanford used to call his own. 

She’s muttering under her breath as he stands in the doorway, landlocked by witnessing her in this exact space for some reason. She moves to the window, opening it all the way and fumbling with the screen. She gets it off and makes to climb out the window before he can protest. 

“If you want a way out, you got it right here!” She grunts, footing her way through to the shingled roof, his protests falling on deaf ears. 

“Get the fuck back in here!” He leans out, making to grab her. “Ain’t no way this shack's roof is any good!” 

She prances around, slightly mocking him by moving away from his waving arm. “Stan! It’s fine!” She laughs, the sun shining on her figure. Suddenly serious she stops, hands on her hips. “Seriously, if you need a way out, keep the window open, okay?” 

She crawls back through the window a moment later, using Stan’s hand as a weight as she balances back on the wooden floor. 

Still serious, she continues, “Stan if you need to keep the window open, you can keep the door open also if you feel like it.” 

She smiles like she has a brilliant idea, moving across the hall she opens her own room to display her own mess of things. “I can keep mine open also if it helps.” 

How the fuck had she read his mind? He was continually dumbfounded by her unquantifiable amounts of patience she had for him. Like it was a reserve she tapped into, to specifically deal with all his dumb bullshit. He would let it pile in the back of his head, but she’d reach back in and shake him awake, present him with a solution, and he forgets himself in his need to question “why?”. 

He had taken too long to respond, and she stands in the hall, hands wringing her too large t-shirt and looking surprisingly bashful. “Is this okay?” She asks, is this what you need? Vying for his approval as she continues. “Because really I don’t mind you sleeping on the couch, I really don’t, you can keep doing it if you like! Really! I just… I just…” 

Unspoken between them, he already knew. She meant well, she meant the best actually. She wanted him to be comfortable, here, with her. Wanted him to stop moving from place to place in the house because no where felt right because it all felt like a trap. Wanted him to know the four walls they shared could never be a prison, and that she didn’t want him to hop around anymore searching and clawing his way out of it. To not have to Goldilocks around the house, because across the hall from her had to be just right. 

And it was. Because she had read his mind as usual, and he was almost tired of being absolutely astounded by it. 

He nodded, smiling across from her, his confirmation in the squeeze he gave her hand as he reached for her again, and in the ruffling of her hair he gave her as he slipped from the house later. Making his way outside to his work, somehow lighter than usual.

They ended up on the couch most weekends, or at least most Saturday nights. 

She had insisted, against his better nature, that it was not appropriate to drink yourself into a stupor on a weekday. So he had gotten used to the shared moments on the weekend, routinely looking forward to shitty VHS movies and even shittier boxed wine and beer. 

She laughed at fucking everything when she was drunk. He almost wondered if she had ever been high, or if she even needed to be. He might as well be a stand up comedian most weekends, because if he thought he had a great audience Monday through Friday, well he had an even more endearing one on the weekends. 

It was a hot July night, and she had scoffed at his light beer that resided in the back of the fridge. Tisking at him as she danced around the kitchen, pouring sweet red wine into mugs (their only cups), and shooing him back to the couch. Only wine in the summer, only wine when it was this hot.

And it was hot, and humid, unsurprising for Oregon really. So hot in fact, that she had decided pjs were appropriate attire for the night, luckily for him. So he shed his jeans in favor of loose boxers and a well worn shirt. Unluckily for him, she had decided upon much the same wardrobe, which was odd for her and only uncomfortable for sober him. 

But he wasn’t sober anymore, and he had to admit she was rather enchanting hunched over on the couch, laughing at his shitty jokes with one of his old band t-shirts on, shorts that she made no indication of even owning, bagging up around the tops of her thighs. 

He had been intoxicated on numerous amounts of things, nothing, of course, too hard or addictive per say, but it’d be the first time he was this drunk on wine. 

And it was… different. 

He had scoffed at the movie she chose originally tonight. She always chose the second movie, and he chose the first. They had a habit of in depth discussing during films, especially when more intoxicated. 

But he had never been so incredibly invested in a romantic comedy in his entire life, he blamed his company and the alcohol. 

“I can’t believe that he thinks he stands a chance with the likes of her! She’s sacrificed so much! Her jobs on the line here and he won’t even consider marrying her for a green card!” He yelled, just about jumping at the screen. This man in the movie was ridiculous, demanding things from his assistant and throwing her away the next. 

She ran back into the room, mugs full with their next round. She had become the bartender tonight, waiting on him and grabbing snacks when he’d ask in exchange for rubbing her aching shoulders. 

“What did I miss!” She rushed back, handing him his mug and taking her seat back in front of him on the floor, her throw blanket being used as a cushion. 

He takes a sip, setting the mug aside her own on the floor and moving back to place his hands on her tense shoulders. 

“She’s being kicked out of the country right in front of her boss and he ain’t gonna do anything about it! She basically does everything for this man, why doesn’t he see he needs her?” 

She groans below him, her head rocking back as she takes her own drink. “Are we gonna discuss the intricates of them having a relationship though? I love marriage of convenience, don’t get me wrong, but that’s her boss! Isn’t there a weird power dynamic here?” 

“Oh ya!” He agrees, nodding along as his fingers began to dig into her muscles. “We gotta talk about that because if this gets creepy we gotta pick out a different one. He’s already pissing me off!” 

She looks up at him, eyes glowing with an idea. Enchanted, she moves away from him, crawling to the cabinet beside the T.V., and he really swears that he tries to look away. But he also reasons that it’ll be a while before he gets the chance to see her in shorts again. And fuck. 

She turns back, a new VHS in hand. “This!” She exclaims. “Now this is my favorite rom-com!” 

A shitty picture is well worn on the front of the movie sleeve, a VHS he doesn’t recognize from the donation bin sitting in her hands. She must have brought it with her, and she must have had it for a while. 

She crawls forward, movie in hand and a bright, flushed smile on her face. 

“Please, please, please Stanley! This one!” She all but yelled as she leaned up into him. His legs had already been parted to accommodate her sitting in front of him, but now were warm with her torso between them, as she crawled into his lap, movie still in hand and smile still on her face. She leaned up onto his chest, a fake pout on her lips as she looked up at him. 

He forgot himself for a minute, excusing her silently for calling him Stanley in her drunken plee. His hand finding her waist as he answered. 

“Okay, okay!” He snorted. “Better be a better love interest because this guy sucks.” 

He missed her as soon as she left, but his heart still felt something sick when she yelled victoriously on the ground, hand raised in celebration, movie clutched to her chest. Rolling from her current position to the VHS player and popping out the current horrendous movie. All the while she giggled, and he followed in much the same manner. Laughing while running his hand through his hair, trying to soothe himself to forget her warmth. 

She crawled back to him (fuck) settling back into his knees from her position on the ground. The title screen flashed, but he was much too busy watching it illuminate her face. Heart sick again when she leaned her head all the way back, hair across his knees and thighs, she smiles up at him, a thank you on her lips. Clutching his mug in her hands, bringing it to her lips for a sip before passing it up to him too. 

And when he carried her to bed that night he wondered when the tight sickness would leave him. He never closed either of their doors. 

It didn’t happen like this, that night. 

Not from what he could remember anyway, but he felt too groggy to care about accuracy and too intoxicated by the image of her to care much for what was right. 

Her hands had continued up his thighs from her place knelt in front of him, his back hot against the living room couch. She had climbed up on top of him, creeping up to sit on his knees and thighs like she had been there before. Her smile turned sweet into something twisted as she leaned in close to his face, the closest she had ever gotten to it. Whispering something between the heat between the two of them, something lost on him, as he tried to lean closer, tried to bridge the gap between their chests, aching to feel her against the very front of him. 

He knew it was different because she had never worn this in front of him before, at least willingly. He had caught her in the middle of the night, stumbling from her open bedroom door to the bathroom down the hall, panties striped and endearing on her ass. He had seen them in the washer, had seen her fold them and tuck them away. And she was in them, sitting on his fucking lap. 

His hands made for her, reaching behind her and dragging her close, his fingers edging the back of the band of her striped panties. 

She gasps like she does when she’s happy for him, always jumping from her position on the couch cheering along with him when he gets a stupid fucking The Price is Wrong answer right. 

And it’s how he imagined it, fuck, how he was currently dreaming of her noises. In bits and pieces he could remember, his brain scrambling to paint an image of her wanting him.  

Her hands edge along the back of his head, running through his long hair, and tracing to the front along his jaw. Mouth open, her fingers glide along the bottom of his lip, teasing. 

She whispers again, closer now. Her chest heaving against his own, her ass waits precariously positioned above right where he dreamt of her being. Right along the space he places her feet every morning, right where he thought she may kill him.

He catches it this time, between them. Her voice wavering like it had that day in the car when she had apologized for calling him him. He thought of begging for it, allowing her to say his name, but she had read his mind like she always fucking managed to do. 

“Please, Stanley.” 

He had surged forward like his own tidal wave, meeting her in the hot space between them. But he could only imagine a kiss with her, dream of it here. 

He imagined it slow, and building. Imagined her hesitation and the pout of her lip between his fucking teeth, imagined her moan when he eventually came back for more. 

Her hands pulled at his fucking hair, the only time she had placed them there to harm, and he groaned as she pulled him forward, meeting again in the middle of the heat they shared there on the couch. She moaned, her hips rushing to his own, making a new heat between them. 

The friction between them was the same as the kiss, slow and building. Grinding herself in the curve of his lap, right where they both needed each other. Every pass slightly faster, every groan from her more imagined, more unreal. 

The pressure felt real though, and her fingers in his hair felt even more so. His head thrown back on the couch, he looked down his nose at her, a groan leaving his throat as she makes a home in his shoulder, as her hips cause waves against his fucking lap. 

Her breath is hot on his neck, something real, and her echoing noises move up his shoulder to his ear and it makes him hotter than he could imagine. Her groans come to a precipice, getting higher in octave and volume and she thinks to fucking bite him there, right on his shoulder. 

The image she makes shakes him, his hands remembering where they are on her ass and hips, as he makes to work them harder, to somehow bring her closer and harder to the crook of his boxers. Her teeth nestle into him, and it makes him groan more, her hot breath and aching moans reverb off his skin back to him. 

It sends him reeling forward, his own head rushing off the back of the couch, groaning in heat, moving in blind passion. His head rests against the top of her own, his big hands digging into the fat of her behind, finger creeping in through the top of her panties. 

“Fuck.” He groans between them. “Fuck, honey.” His hips canting up, her moans echoing again, her teeth unlaching, like she can’t ground herself to him anymore, because all the movement is him now. He’s fucking using her, the pressure hot, and she peels back to look at him, a heat in her eyes he can’t have imagined. He must have seen it before, marring her face. He had, he swears, seen her with this heat in her eyes before.

He was using her. 

It stops just as abruptly as it began, and he wakes to his discomfort. His room is cool despite the morning sun, the curtains by his windows billowing out with September wind. His door wide open, and his hand curled around something that no longer needed relief. 

His other hand, clutching his hair in a fist. The back of his head tender from the pressure, and his fingers heavy from sleep. 

He got up quicker than usual, his heart still pounding oddly in his chest as he attempted to catch a breath he didn’t remember losing. On his way out of his room, dresssed for the day, he peaks into her parallel room, her door wide open like it was every day now. 

He groans low, she’s wearing the fucking stripes. 

He tries not to think about it the rest of the day, tries not to be disgusted with himself, but his chest aches something odd and his stride is somehow uneven for the rest of the day. His heart carries something sickly when he sees her that day, and she pretends it doesn’t hurt he’s oddly quiet that day, or that he doesn’t read her the morning comics like usual. 

She thinks it has something to do with how flushed he is, when she catches his staring that evening, as they sit beside each other on the couch, T.V. echoing in the background.

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; HI!!! Its been a long time since I wrote a series but i cannot resist Feyd. English isn''t my first language so go easy on me. There will be smut in the future chapters. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉)

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 1.520K

Chapter 2

Chapter One – ‘’Meeting in flesh and blood’’

‘’Right behind you!’’ Irulan screamed as she was riding her horse to match Y/N’s. Y/N was a skilled rider, the wind in her long hair, she laughed at Irulan’s attempt of winning the race and focused on the finish line. Planet Kaitian which was the second Capital of the Corrino Empire had so many opportunities for Padishah Emperor Shaddam’s daughter Irulan and his beloved Y/N. The planet had forests, lakes and rivers so Y/N didn’t miss much of her home planet Caladan, she sometimes tossed and turned in her bed thinking of her family members but she was taken to Kaitain years ago. Irulan and Y/N were the same age and when Shaddam couldn’t have more children he asked Duke Leto Atreides to bring his first born daughter to be sisters with Irulan. Leto tried to find so many ways to refuse Padishah Emperor yet he was the ultimate power in the entire galaxy and Leto had no choice but to give his daughter Y/N. She was one years old when the arrangements were made. She could see her family at political events or celebrations, she had been in Caladan few times yet she felt stranger to the planet and she felt stranger to Kaitain as well. She has always wondered if, by any chance one day she would feel the sensation of ‘’being at home’’ nowhere and no one was her home. Maybe this was her fate.

When she finished the race her horse calmed down, Irulan followed behind. ‘’I swear you’re cheating and I am going to find out.’’ She was joking of course, Irulan and Y/N had a close relationship yet Y/N never forgot that she was a princess and there for needed to be treated more cautiously than the other lords and ladies of the galaxy. Together they hopped off of their horses, ‘’Walk with me.’’ Irulan’s  voice was soft yet direct. Her short blonde hair got messy, hem of her white long dress covered in mud, she was carefree when she was with Y/N.

Y/N had the color of her house Atreides. Green. Her green dress felt so light, they were walking on the grass for few minutes in silence., Y/N knew that Irulan wanted to say something.

Palace’s gardens were evergreen, gardeners achieved perfection. Gardens smelled of flowers at any time of the year. Irulan stopped in her tracks, they turned to soak in the scenery before their eyes, the entire planet was under their feet. Servants’ chatters could be heard, no matter what they were never alone. ‘’Soon my father will throw a ball for me.’’ She looked distant, Padishah Emperor Shaddam never had parties without a solid reason, it must be political. Before Y/N could ask Irulan explained simply, ‘’I will meet the man I have to marry.’’ Y/N knew one day that she had to marry someone in order to protect the power they had over the galaxy but she never thought the date would come this quick. Y/N had already a lover, only Irulan knew because he was from a lower house. She had a childish hope that one day she would marry him.

Irulan laughed in sarcasm, ‘’How I wish to be you, sister!’’ it was obvious that Irulan dreaded the situation.

There were no arrangements for Y/N and she was free for a long time or so she thought.

‘’I trust in Emperor’s decision. He won’t wed you to someone unworthy.’’ She tried to encourage her dear friend but Irulan stood there like a stone. ‘’Let’s head back.’’ Y/N said. A hollow silence followed them to the dining hall. Emperor couldn’t attend because he was dealing with preparations of the ball. The white marble fire place was lit and orange colors danced in the room, the dining hall was adorned with lavish furniture and a long wooden table. The wood came from Giedi Prime, it was called Pilingitam.

 Irulan seemed troubled, ‘’What’s on your mind sister?’’ Y/N asked. She was concerned for her, if she knew that she had to be concerned for herself…

She watched Irulan’s palm slithering on the Pilingitam table,’’ Majority of the houses will be at the ball,’’ she looked up to meet Y/N’s curious eyes, ‘’The Harkonnens will be too.’’ Y/N’s blood ran cold, she remembered the times where Emperor used to take them to Giedi Prime for political reasons. They had to sit and watch the games in the black and white arena. Gladiators killing each other…

She remembered a boy with pure blue eyes and full lips, ‘’I will fight there too when I’m old enogh.’’ He was sitting next to Y/N in his black outfit. He closed the tiny gap between him and Y/N, and he spoke quietly, ‘’Will you come and watch me?’’ he was speaking as if killing was a normal act. His knee touching Y/N’s, she remembered distinctly that the boy interlaced his little finger with hers. They were ten and yet Y/N could see Baron Vladimir’s influence on his poor nephew.

Y/N didn’t need to go back in her memories to detest the Harkonnens. Their families were in and out of war for centuries. Thankfully for a long time peace was kept. ‘’I will manage.’’ She insured Irulan with a genuine smile yet it wasn’t enough. Y/N brushed it off, after dinner she had mental training anyways.

Until the day of the ball she corresponded with her lover, Pyramus

He was a tall man with dark curls and jet black eyes. His beard always tickled her face.

She spent her days training and accompanying Irulan. Irulan grew restless as the they approached.

One by one the ships started to arrive, one could look up to the busy blue sky and see. Y/N’s family arrived early to see her and spend time with her. Lady Jessica, her mother, immediately questioned her about Y/N’s Bene Gesserit training, Duke Leto was happy to see her daughter once again. Paul, her one year younger brother gave her a tight hug.

They were united once more, she escorted them to their quarters in the palace and retrieved to get ready for the event. She wore a green dress with emeralds on her chest and waist, her maid braided her hair in Atreides style. She also wore an emerald tiara. Paul Atreides knocked on her door to escort her to the ball room, he looked sharp in his dark green suit. ‘’You seem nervous.’’ He questioned, -Y/N knew that her mother was teaching Bene Gesserit ways to her brother,- yes she was nervous because she was going to be reunited with her lover. ‘’Too many people.’’ She responded. Servants were running with food and wine on the corridors, music could be heard from a distance. Members of houses were having conversations about spice, politics, etc.

The doors of the room were open, inside was lit by the yellow warm lights coming from glowglobes, guests laughing and drinking. Tallest member was Baron Vladimir due to hanging in the air, eating like a mad man but she ignored him.

Her eyes searching for her lover, so blind to an outsider who got her under his radar.

Paul and Y/N walked to the table of their house, ‘’You look lovely my girl.’’ Duke Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. He was a snake, silently slithering close to his prey.

Padishah Emperor Shaddam and his daughter Princess Irulan were announced and slowly entered the room, everyone bowed. They took their seats and Emperor greeted everyone, thanked them for coming to his feast and he also announced that he would choose the life partner of his daughter among his unmarried male guests. Duke Leto found himself watching his daughter with sad eyes, he wondered if he could see her wedding one day. Would she be happy and fortunate like him? Only time would tell but he prayed quietly.

It was time to dance, couples held each others’ hands and marched to the dance floor, Paul excused himself and went to ask the princess to dance with him. Leto happily asked Jessica to dance with him, Y/N wished that they were officially married but to keep his position as a powerful bachelor, other houses worked for him hoping that one day Duke Leto would marry one of their daughters. It was a well played game of chess on Atreides’s part. Y/N watched Irulan and Paul talking silently and dancing.

Soon Pyramus came with a huge smile. He kissed her hand and winked at her, ‘’My beautiful lady, would you be so kind and accompany me on the dance floor?’’ she tried so hard not to grin, ‘’Of course my lord.’’ He was in his house’s color, yellow. Hand in hand they mingled among the other couples, ‘’I’ve missed you.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not here.’’ She used the voice on him and his mouth closed in a second. Only their eyes talked.

They heard a rough cough and turned to face the intruder, Y/N had no idea that she would meet him in flesh and blood, ‘’Feyd…’’

[predestinatos]

CHALLENGERS — CL16 & MV1 🏓

summary: the line between rivals and friends was blurred. and then you came. MINORS DNI!!!!

word count: 3.5k

tags: charles leclerc x fem!reader x max verstappen, implied cheating, flirting, them being horny boys, 3some vibes, heavily inspired by challengers.

warnings: smut (no sex but... everything else) dirty talking, cheating, cursing.

note: yes i've been obsessed with challengers and i thought the dynamics would look rlly fun on a fic!!! am 100% invested on making this a series! also i'm aware those are padel things in tbe picture but this is just for the cover aesthetics okay!

12:52AM

“You know I can beat him, right?” Charles’ voice sounded rough as he stood against the doorframe, confident smile spread across his lips, arms crossed against his chest, making his muscles stand out. You looked at him then, from your lying position across the hotel bed – one you shouldn’t be on – and shrugged. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

The defiance in your tone registered like a cold breeze across his skin, causing him to shiver slightly yet not break his demeanour as he moved towards you silently, lowering himself towards you on the bed now, face inches away from yours. “I didn’t know you still needed convincing.” Charles noticed how you licked your lips as you stared at his, how for a quick second you almost forgot what you were talking about as your breaths melted into each other. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed, both of you so silent it could’ve been a scene from a nature documentary: prey seducing predator, but which is which?

“You asked” you replied, refusing to break the distance first, wanting to prove that you were stronger than he thought, that he needed something from you which he couldn’t possibly get, not anymore at least. You looked at his eyes, its bright colour now so darkened by something close to thrill over what was going on in that moment, a thrill you wanted to suppress. “Just wanted to see how good of a liar you were” Charles bit his lip, smile now growing slightly. Maybe it wasn’t thrill. Maybe it was actual amusement.

“You’re unbearable” you said, now turning your face away from him, rolling your eyes at his sheer arrogance. “You want me” he got up from bed, taking off his t-shirt as he searched for his pyjamas. His back flexed with every movement, muscles stranding out in his glistening skin. He smiled knowingly, because although he could not see your face, he knew you were looking. He always knew.

“Brave of you to think so” you shot back, getting up as well, grabbing your bag from the small armchair placed in the corner of the room. Rushing towards the hotel door, his frame stood between you and it – the ability to breathe, the absence of guilt, the absolution of uncommitted sins. “See, you’re still a bad liar” his bare chest rose and fell in front of you and Charles wished he could say he wasn’t about to crumble before you but that wouldn’t be true either. His confidence was only partially real, for he did not have the strength to do more than this, to test you and push you only this far – part of him knew you couldn’t resist, but he was never entirely sure.

YEARS EARLIER

The country club was boring. You didn’t know why your family insisted on going apart from trying to prove how rich they were, something which got exhausting too quickly. Sitting at the table, you played with the olive in your martini as your dad talked about “business” and your mom laughed about something.

The sun warmed your skin as your bare legs welcomed the heat gladly, the only source of some amusement in that place. It was tiring. Your brain felt like it could explode from lack of stimulation. Minutes passed at the speed of years. You had to do something, quick, or else- “I’m going for a walk” you said suddenly, or a voice said, part of your brain who was even more tired than you thought. Your family stood, staring at you briefly before nodding and continuing their tasks, like robots who were well instructed to continue their mission but not used to abnormalities.

Max was sweating. We would feel disgusting, unclean, even, were it not for how focused he was on the game, on his friend – rival, for a few minutes – in front of him. The tennis ball travelled from his racket to Charles in something near to slow motion for him.

Charles was amused. He always was, for he loved playing almost more than winning. He loved getting under his friend’s skin, seeing how hard he tried to beat him while his careless attitude ate him with each hit he took. There was something god-like about his commitment, his seriousness, that Charles admired, if not even envied. He couldn’t care as much about things the way his friend did – he was passion, Max was reason. That’s the way they always worked, and you could see it in the way they played, hear it in the way they grunted as they hit the ball with their utmost force.

“Okay let’s take a break” Charles said, throwing his racket carelessly on the floor as he walked towards the end of the field, towards his water bottle. Max stood in place, looking at his friend, wondering if he looked as disheveled as him – dark hair glued to his skin, cheeks red and a constant frown on his face from the sun’s insistence on affecting them. “It’s 30-all! You can’t just ask for a break when it’s 30-all!” his complaints were dismissed with a shrug of shoulders. “I just did”

Max inhaled heavily, used to this behaviour yet not immune to how much it annoyed him, and on his exhale, he felt his friend’s hands on his shoulders, massaging them gently. “Relax, don’t be so tense all the time,” Charles whispered, slight irony laced in his tone as he buried his hands in his friend’s warm shoulders from the heat.

“Don't stop now, I was enjoying it” your voice broke through them unexpectedly, causing them to turn their eyes towards you simultaneously. Max stared at you, his eyes locked on your teasing ones. But it was Charles who spoke first, in an attempt to match your tone. “And who are you, exactly?” Though you answered his friend, your eyes remained on Max's green ones, on the shy smirk growing slowly across his lips. The hands previously on his shoulders fell across them, brushing his back and finally leaving him altogether, as if melting from the heat. He barely noticed. Maybe he didn’t notice it at all. “I'm Charles” he walked towards you confidently, leaning against the railing that separated the court from the bleachers, one eye closed in a permanent blink due to the sun. You got up, looking, for the first time, at the dark haired man closer to you. Moving slowly towards him as you climbed down the stairs, you felt his defiant gaze, so different from his friend’s yet equally as alluring to you. Now as close to him as you could, your hand on the railing, mere inches away from his arm, you spoke. “And your friend over there?” Charles looked back, as if trying to recall who you could be referring to, prolonging a moment unnecessarily, only to allow his arm to brush against your hand as he turned back towards you, head tilted. “Why do you want to know?” Max’s racket felt cold against his burning skin, the image of his friend's toned back and tanned neck directed towards you, with a short skirt and tight top, causing him to wonder if he was hallucinating, overheating, going crazy. “Charles, she wants us to play more.”

10:45PM

He liked watching you, how you moved so softly, hands caressing your legs as you applied mosturizer. It was almost religious, how your breath guided his unintentionally, how he forgot everything for a few seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours.

He leaned against the bathroom sink as you placed your foot on top of the toilet seat to better access some parts of your skin you could not otherwise reach. You felt his gaze, still so similar to the one he first used when he first layed his eyes on you – the same intensity, mind over matter debate circulating through his mind as he analyzed every inch of your skin.

“I’m going to win tomorrow” Max said from behind you; a certainty in his voice that made you chuckle with something close to frustration. You muttered an ‘okay’ as you continued your movements, your bracelets clinking against each other. “I’m serious. You know I’m serious” he repeated, frustrated at your nonchalantness, at your dismissal of his convictions.

“Don’t be patronizing” you finally said, turning around as you spread the remains of the cream on your arms and hands. Though you were in underwear and he was clothed, he felt vulnerable in front of you. The ring adorning both of your fingers didn’t make your presence any easier to bear over the years, despite his attempts at pretending it did.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows now raised, turning his head to follow your frame which walked towards the hotel bed. “You know what I mean, Max” your voice was stern, your head always high despite you being shorter, as if he was the one who had to look up to you, though he hadn’t, not really.

“You weren’t like this with him” he looked down now, his profile outlined by the bathroom lights. You admired his attractiveness, his intentional care to be clean, precise, as close to perfect as he could. You admired how his expressions never oscilated between extremes, or at least how he managed to hide it so well if they did.

“You don’t need me to tell you these things the way he does” you sighed. You had had this conversation, or something close to it too many times to count. “You have the girl, you have the championship, what else do you want, Max? You want me to constantly tell you you’re a winner, you’re a big fucking boy who’s so so good?” you continued, more aggressively than you perhaps intended, though it did not matter, not really, at least.

He looked back at you now, though he dare not move. His throat bobbed up and down now, and you noticed how his knuckles whitened slightly as he held the sink tightly. “Maybe I do” it was almost a whisper, the way he said it, trying to hide from the attention he so craved, his body manifesting more than he wanted to show.

You looked further down his body, to where your words seemed to affect him most, though he remained looking at you. You admired his silent boldness in contrast to Charles’ loud one. "I chose you, Max" your voice sounded velvety to him, almost driving him insane as he felt his cock hardening. He felt ridiculous. Maybe he was; his obsession with your approval was also an obsession with beating Charles' appeal to you. He might have won many battles but Max had won the war.

YEARS EARLIER

Charles was better - better looking, better skilled, and effortlessly so. Max thought all of this as he stared at the back of his friend's slightly burned neck, standing behind him in front of a bedroom door.

"Ok so, let's not fuck this up" Charles said, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a match. "She clearly wants us"

"Us?" Charles turned around at the question, incredulity written across his face. "Yes, us. Now which one she wants more... We'll find out"

Before he could protest at his friend's unapologetic confidence, the door opened. You stood there, oversized t-shirt being worn as a nightgown, smiling at the two boys.

Both of them frozen, lusting over you so obviously it was almost insulting, were you not turned on by the way their gaze explored your body. Charles had a signature smirk that did not care to hide where his imagination was roaming as he stared at your bare legs; Max, on the other hand, was overcome by a darkness that almost intimidated you, studying every inch of your body hungrily.

"You're just going to stand there?" you asked, half laughing, waking the boys up from their trance. They both rushed inside excitedly, causing you to giggle subtly. It was flattering, how much they seemed to crave your sheer attention.

“So…” you asked, moving to sit on the carpeted floor, trying to make them comfortable – which didn’t need much effort, as they seemed to make themselves at home promptly, Charles’ unbuttoned shirt exposing his chest to you, and Max’s own t-shirt was so tight it left little to the imagination.

“You liked to see us play” Max started, a newly found confidence reaching him, a smile matching it perfectly. Maybe you were the one to give it to him, your eyes landing on him as if daring him to speak, him specifically. Charles’ opened up a bottle of a cheap drink he found at the liquor store they had ran to just hours before, as they realized they might actually have a chance with you.

“I did” you answered with a nod, now looking at Charles, who offered you a glass, your fingers brushing his purposefully.

“So much that you wanted more” Max continued, so factual it could pass as arrogance – though it resulted in a blush from you. You admired his sudden calculated boldness, the way he brought the cup to his lips after saying those words, as if he had commented on the state of the weather.

“And you gave me more” you replied, trying to match his – maybe their – tone.

“Oh, we haven’t given you nearly enough” Charles now stepped in. He couldn’t help himself, not with you in front of him, not with the small room closing in on him as he felt your need grow along with his, along with Max’s, along with the cups and the drink and the sheets and the carpeted floor.

“You two do this a lot?” you asked, daringly, though the question had crossed your mind throughout the day. Was this enticing to them? Sharing a woman, pleasuring her together, driving her mad with their games, their touch and words?

They let out a soft laugh together, almost synchronized. They were both beautiful, though in opposite ways – Max’s features were hard despite his soft, quiet demeanor, while Charles’s were softer, more carefully sculpted despite his own careless behavior.

“What, go after the same girl?” Charles asked, looking at Max, who looked at him as well. They found it amusing and rather ironic, really. Everything was a competition to them, even if nothing got in the way of their friendship. What made you especially exciting was how they both wanted you, and how both of them were aware of that fact. They both know the game was on the minute you showed up, like a match they fought in the court.

Upon your nod, Max decided to speak up. He had to; it was somehow agreed and decided who would say what, an unspoken rule he seemed to have made with Charles but couldn’t quite remember. “No, not at all” he laughed, cup now empty as Charles grabbed the bottle and filled it some more.

“What he means is… You’re just that attractive” the brown-haired man spoke. Was he flirting with you, or were they both doing so, even if it came only from his voice? You couldn’t help but feel your whole body responding to how they looked at you, how they seemed to crave you with indescribable need.

“What about you two?” you asked now, blaming the alcohol – though you had barely drunk anything. Their eyes went from you to each other again, awkward and rapidly, as they blushed slightly.

“No, I mean… no we haven’t” Max said, causing a soft chuckle to come out of Charles, his friend’s shyness over the topic making amusing him. It’s not like they haven’t thought about it – not at all – but they hadn’t told each other this. This concept lived in their heads, and none of them dared to bring it up, though they had seen each other naked and crossed lines most so-called friends probably wouldn’t. But neither of them had the conversation about what it meant, or what it could mean, because they didn’t feel the need to. Not until now.

You shrugged it off, finishing your drink in a single gulp. Looking at those two men, you realized you couldn’t quite decide what to do next – you wanted to do so many things that felt too forbidden to speak.

You looked up at Max, his eyes so needy it made your blood pulsate in your veins, the certainty that he would do anything for your touch right in that moment causing you to shiver. Slowly, you moved towards him, his face so close to yours that he dared not move, not until your hands reached his neck and pulled him towards you, kissing him.

That seemed to shift something in him, his own arms holding you as if scared you’d leave, as if wanting to consume you all, taste all of you. His hand instinctively grabbed your waist, though you knelt on the ground and couldn’t – wouldn’t – go anywhere.

“Oh, fuck” Charles said, looking at the both of you. The sight should make him jealous, but it did quite the opposite. He felt aroused, more than he wanted to admit, watching Max controlling your body and movements, eyebrows furrowed from pleasure, as your own lips moved messily and erratic against his, not caring about how it looked. You were putting on a show for him as you savored all of Max – Max was simply savoring all of you, for he had forgotten his friend was even there.

You pulled away, however, now deciding you had to try the other man, who seemed to be in a state of pure bliss over you, your attitude, your movements. You barely moved towards him – you didn’t need to – as he rushed towards you his hand resting on your thigh and grabbing it tightly. He was more aggressive, more assertive and confident in his kiss. He didn’t let go of himself the way Max did, but then again he barely held himself back at all when it came to you.

Max was staring. He knew he was staring but he couldn’t look away. The sight was erotic, something out of his deepest, darkest fantasies – your hair being slightly pulled by Charles’ strong grip, your own hands on his cheeks as his tongue travelled across your mouth. Suddenly, his kissing went down to your neck, and you held him there as you looked directly at Max.

Just your look could have driven him insane, right there and then, but he wouldn’t let it happen. He was hungry for more of you, more of whatever was going on, wanted it to last as long as it possibly could. “Come here” you called for him, who obliged immediately.

At first, he mimicked Charles, but soon his mouth was on yours again and you felt both boys’ mouths on your body, the amount of sensations fogging your mind as you let them both consume you. You pulled Charles mouth to yours, joining the kiss you were sharing with Max. The three of you kissed – messily, sloppily, completely letting the primal, animalistic part of you loose.

You wanted to touch yourself. Wanted them to touch you, feel how wet you were, savoring all of you. You wanted them to touch each other for you – for your gaze, for your entertainment and fulfillment, the way they were doing so now, as you pulled away and watched their own mouths against each other.

Max was hard. He couldn’t think anymore, dizzy from the caresses he was feeling on his body, from the insanity of the moment, from everything and nothing. Charles was drunk – drunk on the intense rush flowing through him, from how hard he knew he was, from how fucking spectacular everything seemed in that moment.

You were in complete bliss. The two men before you were in absolute awe of you, yearning for you with fervent need, letting themselves go to the point where they even yearned for each other. It was time to stop it.

“Okay” you said, snapping both of them back to reality instantly. Both Max and Charles were shocked at how they felt nothing close to shame over the moment. In fact, they felt exhilarated, ready to keep going, to prolong the moment with each other, with you, forever. “It’s time to go” you continued, watching the glow disappear from their faces as they breathed hard, chests falling and rising rapidly. “What?” they asked in unison, something close to innocence returning to their faces.

“We’ll do this again, right?” Charles asked, getting up after you did, with Max following. He was aware that he was hard, his cock rubbing against the fabric of his boxers and shorts uncomfortably. And he was also aware that you were turned on, though he could only imagine how soaked you actually were – a picture that didn’t help his situation.

“Sure” you answered, seeing their gleeful faces one last time before adding, as you walked them to the door “one of you will. The one who wins tomorrow”, closing it on them before you could see the smile turn into a frown.

[suguwife]

Executive Tensions. (one)

tags: exbf!Gojo Satoru x f!reader, CEO x secretary, porn with plot, 18+ explicit sexual content, mdni, masturbating, slow burn, mentions of cheating, forced proximity, mini series

- 9.7k wc

a/n: this is the backstory to reader x gojo - angry heated one shot for this is in part two !!

(part two)

You had just posted a story on your Instagram, a picture of flowers that your new boyfriend gave you. Baby pink peonies, a big bouquet of them in the shape of a heart.

Only a few minutes after posting the photo, your phone vibrated, and your heart skipped a beat seeing your ex boyfriend’s name appear on your screen, Satoru. The message was simple and yet it made your heart beat faster. You shouldn’t be feeling like this, you hate him.

“He doesn't know that you prefer actual luxury gifts?” Was the first message he sent you in months, four months since the breakup. Why is he viewing your story?

You respond after a couple minutes with “I like flowers now.” Its an obvious lie. You knew he’d know. You had always been materialistic, you found gifts and money more efficient over flowers that would die anyway.

“You're lying.” He replied within seconds, obsessed much.

He had to admit, after stalking your socials for a little while, your new boyfriend seemed to make you happy, or at least that's the image you projected.

It was annoying, it made him feel sick to think that someone else could make you smile like that, or even more.

You reply after a couple minutes again, “Well I like flowers now. Stop texting me I already removed you as a follower.”

His jaw clenched and his grip on his phone tightened, seeing your reply, he wasn't expecting you to be so cold with him. But of course you would be, in a way he deserved that. “You didn't remove me, stop lying.”

“I just did.”

“Why? did your new boyfriend tell you to do that?”

He double texts another message, “Is he that insecure? Does he not want you interacting with your ex ‘cause he’s scared?”

You scoff a laugh in disbelief at his accusations, ironic coming from him. He seems to be the insecure one here. “No, I decided to remove you. Stop being so irritating.”

He doesn’t respond to that, he just re-reads over the conversation on his phone a couple times like an obsessive freak before throwing his phone on the bed and running his hand through his hair, “Fuck..”

Laying on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling and clenching his jaw as the image of you with your new boyfriend danced in his head.

The next day, Satoru sat in a black seat behind a long desk, a few of his assistants on either side. In front of him, the candidates for the new position that had just been opened in his company were standing before him, one after the other. The interviews had already been going on for quite some time, he was just beginning to get bored, until you walked in.

Honestly, you had no idea that Satoru would be here, until you saw him sitting on the main seat. The seat for the CEO of the building. You knew he was a CEO, but he had worked in a different building whilst you were dating. Despite the sudden shock running through, you remain calm and composed.

Your parents were bugging you to do something with your life and that you can’t live in their luxury for the rest of your days without working towards anything so, here you are. Applying for a boring office job, just so your parents would see you as a hard working woman. A useless thing, you believe. You’re fine as you are, perfectly financially stable.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you, you were even more beautiful than the last time. He had only seen you off your socials since the breakup, but in real life your beauty glistened the entire room from boring and dull to bright and refreshing. He blinked a few times to recover from his surprise, before straightening up in his seat and looking at the papers in front of him.

Trying to ignore the hammering in his heart as he focused on the papers, he couldn't deny it now. He hadn't forgotten you, not at all. He never could. No amount of hookups would get his mind off you. In fact, during all those times he’d have sex with other women after the breakup, he’d only see your face despite how bratty and argumentative you became with him.

Little did he know that the only reason you became so hostile towards him was because he had cheated on you with a prostitute. He doesn't know you know. You didn’t bother to explain, wanted him to realise himself. But he clearly didn’t.

He was just about to say something when one of his assistants spoke up. "Excuse me sir, this is the last candidate to be interviewed, y/n l/n.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, he eyed you up and down. He tried to control his emotions and remain stoic, but in reality, it took all his self-control to stay that way.

He gestured for you to sit in the chair in front of him, his expression bored.

You keep your poker face plastered on as you take your seat, questioning yourself. When did he start working here? This building is #1 in Tokyo, he had been working a little lower before. Unless he owned this building too and just never told you?

God, this is so embarrassing, interviewing to be a low class assistant for your ex boyfriend just to please your parents.

You furrow your brows ever so slightly but regain your composure again, you needed this job. You needed to show your parents that you can do anything, you just choose not to. And it’s true, you can do anything, because now everyone beside him is smiling and whispering with amused expressions as they tick all the boxes near your name. Only Satoru had been staring into your eyes, like a staring contest between the two of you.

He cleared his throat before finally speaking up, his tone neutral. “Alright then, you may leave for now.”

After politely saying your goodbyes you make your exit, his pupils stalked you until you left the room and the door closed behind you. Letting out a slow sigh once you were gone, he felt his heart rate calm down to a normal pace once more.

“I think she did pretty well, sir.”

“One of the best from today, sir.”

He nods at his assistants, trying to play it off like he was unfazed by your presence. But deep down, seeing you again after so long in real time was like an electric shock to his heart. A reminder that he never got over you at all. Ugh, what was he thinking? You became a bitch, you broke up, the decision was mutual.

The assistant's voice pierced his thoughts. “So, what do you think sir? Should we hire her?”

He hesitates for a moment, his mind torn between his emotions and his rationality. He wanted to say no, to reject your application, but he couldn't seem to do that either, he knew you were qualified.

After some deliberation, he finally spoke up in a firm tone. “...Hire her for my secretary position. She has the necessary qualifications.”

As he spoke, a few of the people around him looked at him and each other with surprise visible on their face, but they immediately tried to mask it. They all knew that his position as CEO required a secretary, but they had been under the impression that he would never agree to hire someone for that position. Every time a candidate came in for the role, he’d always deny them. Clearly, you always got what you wanted and Satoru was willing to give you that, despite the fact you only interviewed for a low assistant role.

He could sense their surprise and knew that they had expected him to reject the idea of a secretary once again, but he didn't care. This time, he had a very selfish reason. He wanted you to be his secretary, so he could see you every day. Even if it was just for work.

He continued to look at the papers in front of him, pretending not to care about their reactions, his heart still pounding from the idea of you being his secretary.

Would you even accept the job? And if you did, what would happen between you two?

He didn't know and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out either.

“I expect one of you to alert her for her position and the expectations for it too.” He says coldly, standing up from his seat and fixing himself to head back to his main office. “Have her start her shift from tomorrow morning.”

He nodded to his assistants, indicating that he was done for today and didn't want to be disturbed, before leaving the room and walking down the long corridors to his main office. The thought of you working for him now excited him as much as it worried him. He would see you every day, but would he be able to control himself and remain professional...?

He arrived at his main office and closed the door behind him, heading to his desk and sitting down on the big leather chair. He placed his elbows on the desk and let his face rest in his hands, sighing deeply as he stared at the desk in front of him. This wasn't going to be easy at all.

Well, you knew you always got what you wanted, but you didn’t expect to be given the secretary role. You never even applied for that? Were the people around him just overly pleased by you so they convinced him or was he doing it out of the fact you're his ex?

Whatever the reason, you took it. You didn’t want to bother with anymore of those fuckass interviews. But you can’t believe he’s making you start the next morning, what a dick, as always.

Your black heels click as you enter his office dressed in dark tights, a dark grey pencil skirt and a sleeved white button up shirt, hair up in a French twist, just normal business attire. Oh but to him, oh fuck. As he sat on his seat, his dick sprung up to the sight of you, all dressed up like a hard working woman.

He mentally cursed himself, placing his hand casually as possible on his boner trying to hide the evidence even though you weren’t able to see anyway from his desk blocking your view.

He swallowed hard and quickly tried to compose himself, not wanting to let his surprise show.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up in a professional tone, “You're early, good. Have a seat in front of my desk.”

You want to mentally roll your eyes at him, of course you were going to take a seat. Did he just expect you to stand there until he told you what to do?

You keep your expression neutral as you take your seat and stare at him.

He couldn't help but study your features, the way your eyes landed on his, your hands folded on your knees as you crossed them over. Everything about you was exactly like he remembered.

He took a deep breath to recompose himself before speaking “You may be wondering why I hired you as my personal secretary.”

He leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests of his chair as he continued speaking. “I was going to pass on hiring one, but stocks have been rising lately so it’s been getting busy. And after the interview, I felt you were more than qualified for the job.”

His tone was professional, as if he were speaking to any other employee, but his dick was pulsing with its own heartbeat, faster than ever. It was painful, but he managed to remain stoic. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face despite how hard it was making him. Would it be so bad if he wanked off to your pictures once you left? Maybe he shouldn’t do that. He carries on speaking. “But I'd better warn you, working as my secretary isn't easy. I have high expectations and demands-“

You cut him off, your tone blank and your expression still neutral. “I'm sure.”

God, he was infuriating to look at. You wanted to grit your teeth and roll your eyes or kick him but you remained professional and calm.

He was slightly amused by your response, your short, simple answer somehow satisfying him.

Leaning forward a bit in his chair, his eyes remained on you as he continued. “I have no doubt you can handle it.”

He paused for a moment before adding, “I hope you're up for the challenge.”

Tch, what challenge? The only challenge will have to be serving him for the next couple of months before you choose to quit.

His eyes lingered on your face for a few more moments, his heart still racing and the beat in his dick pulsing despite his calm demeanour. He tried to push the thoughts of your past relationship to the back of his mind, but being so close to you now was making it difficult. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he knew he wasn't allowed to. He was your boss now, and he had to maintain a professional relationship with you.

“What do I have to do?” You question.

He sat back in his chair and picked up a folder on his desk, opening it and looking through the contents. You can’t deny how handsome he looks in his suit and his professional manner, it made you throb even though you despised him.

“Your primary job is to take and pass on my instructions, organise my schedule, arrange my meetings, prepare and take notes during business meetings, prepare reports, among other things.”

He glances up at you as he continues listing the duties of the position. “You will be in charge of handling my business calls and emails as well. Which means being available to me at all times.”

His eyes roam over your face, pausing for a moment on your lips before quickly looking back at the folder in front of him.

He closed the folder and placed it back on his desk, his eyes still on you. “Do you think you can handle this job? It can be demanding and time-consuming, not everyone is cut out for it...”

You inhale, exhale, and speak. “It's not that hard, just a lot of simple tasks to complete.” Really, it sounds like I’d be doing all his work for his lazy ass.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, seemingly entertained by your confident response. “You seem pretty confident in your abilities...” His arms across his chest, his voice suddenly more firm and serious. “But let me warn you, l have no patience for mistakes or incompetence. I expect everything to be done in a timely, accurate and professional manner. I'm not an easy boss to please, I demand the best of the best.”

“Yeah. I'm aware.” I state, a hint of irritating sarcasm in my tone. During our relationship, he'd always be toxic and impatient. Never understood the true meaning.. or even tried to understand the true meaning as to why you had become such a bitch towards him. Never came to the realisation that you were aware of his cheating.

He cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter in his chair, trying to push those memories from his mind...

He kept his cool demeanour and spoke in a calm but strict tone.

“Good. As long as we're clear on that.” He paused for a moment, observing you closely as if trying to read your thoughts. He leaned forward a bit in his chair, his hands folded neatly in front of him on his desk.

“You start your first day of work today. I know that I’ve got a few meetings that need preparation and I need you to take on some duties today as well.”

He studied your face closely, taking in your reaction. He was still trying to figure you out, trying to figure out if you were hiding anything behind your neutral expression, but it was too hard. He always found it hard to understand you behind that expression.

“Okay. Do I get a written list or anything on what I need to do for each day?”

“Yeah, I have a list of assignments for you ready. But I'm also expecting you to keep up with daily tasks and schedules.”

He gestures to the laptop on the desk in front of you.

“There's a new file there. It's for all of the assignments and tasks you need to do, it's constantly updated and you'll find everything in it that you need to do for today and the future.”

You slide the laptop in front of you as you speak, breaking eye contact, “Okay.”

“Any questions?”

“Hm.. I’ll ask you when they come.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why are you applying for jobs? You don’t even need to work.”

You sigh, of course he’d ask that. You didn’t want to let him in on too much. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t get that tone with me, I’m just wandering.” He glared at you with a firm and cold expression.

You roll your eyes at him, finally. Your eyes were begging to do that from the moment you entered this room. “My parents wanted me to do something.”

“Ah.. They doing okay?” He questions, a little smile on his face.

You don’t respond, just stare at him with a bored expression because, why the fuck is he asking how your family is?

He nodded with a small smirk playing on his lips, the fuck is he smiling for now? God you just wanted to get up and kick his dick, make sure he’s unable to fuck any other woman.

“Alright then. I have a meeting in about an hour. Get started on those tasks. And do a good job. I'll be watching you.” He cuts off your intrusive thoughts as he speaks.

You grab your laptop and say your goodbyes, you can’t help but be irritated with the way he’s speaking to you. No please, no thank you?

“She's still as cold as ever...” He mumbled to himself, his brain replaying the look on your face, the sound of your voice. He knew you were intentionally hiding your emotions, putting up a professional front, but he couldn't deny that he was enjoying the game of trying to figure you out.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply as he tried to clear his mind. But he couldn't focus on his work, his thoughts still lingering on you.

You make your way to a smaller office designed for the secretary, small yet simple and spacious. You browse through your laptop which had a detailed list of assignments and tasks, some assigned to you that day and some that you would be handling in the days to come. “Jesus. I'm basically doing his work for him. Tch.” You whisper to yourself as you prepare the meetings and documents for today.

Meanwhile, in his office, his dick was still hard. Punching through his pants aching for release, he had to place his sweating forehead on his desk to control his breathing. But it was futile. He contemplated whether it would be harassment to touch himself to you but fuck, he needed to.

He stood up, walked heavily with ragged breathing and locked his office door then made his way back to his seat, immediately unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down so he’d have access.

His mind ran back to the times he’d pound into you, the wet, filthy noises that would escape from your entrance and your tongue. His hands glided up and down at the thought. The words you’d say to him as he fucked you raw in his bed.

“Just like that toru.. mh…”

“Yeah? Like this?” And he’d slam into you balls deep, making you scream his name as he panted like a dog in heat “That feel good, princess?”

“So.. so g-goo- oh!” You were so drunk off his dick you were never able to form full words. He loved the way your soaked walls would clench him even though you’d whine, “T-too much.. no more!!” But no amount of your whining would make him stop, your pussy begged for him despite your words.

“Tell me how it feels.” He’d say through panting gasps as his fingers would rub over your clit rapidly whilst his dick hit your G-spot then pulled back out, then back in again, making sure to hit you well. He wanted to know how you felt as his dick would speed into you, wanted to raise his ego.

Then he’d push down on your abdomen, just where he’d bulge through your sweaty skin, “You feel that? You take me so well, baby..”

And the way you’d cry out in pleasure, weakly trying to push his hand away from pushing down but he’d just chuckle, pushing down harder as the sound of squelching wetness filled the room.

He can’t help it, mid-wank he picks up his phone from his desk, scrolls through his hidden images in his gallery and rewatches the clips he’d take of you moaning and whimpering his name as he played with your clit. He never deleted anything of you.

He panted heavily once he reached his climax, his hands filthy. Shit. He headed to the bathroom connected to his office and cleaned himself up. Was it harassment to touch himself to you.. without permission? I mean it’s not like you knew.. Shit, maybe he fucked up. Nobody will know anyway.

Time ticked by as you worked on the tasks for the rest of the week, diligently typing away on the keys of the laptop and sipping on the frappe you had bought. Whilst Satoru attended his meetings and completed his work in his office. Although, every time he’d walk around the building, he’d always steal glances of you in your office working. And god, you always looked as beautiful as ever to him.

His father, the former CEO, strolls into the building, his presence immediately commanding respect from all the employees as he walks by. He was a tall and dignified man, his presence alone enough to make everyone take notice. Every employee, including you bowed to him, paying respects.

Shit, this must have been the building he would talk about to you in the past. He’d always complain to you how his father wanted him to overtake his business, but he never told you the name of the building. Well, to be fair, you never asked. And now here you are, working as a corporate slave for your ex boyfriend of a dick.

“It's nice to see you again, y/n.” He says to you, standing before your desk, probably confused.

“Ah... you too sir.”

“I wasn't expecting to see you working here, it's been a while.” His tone was gentle, but there was an undertone of curiosity and concern in his voice.

You nod and offer an awkward smile, “Yeah... I didn't know Satoru was the CEO of this building.”

“Yes, he took over as CEO two months after you both... ended.” He pauses for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly wary. “And you're working as his secretary now...?” He questioned, looking around the office.

Oh fuck, embarrassing. It sounds as if you’re desperate to be seen by Satoru. “Yes. I am.”

He nods again, his expression still neutral as he continues to observe you, “I see...”

Awkward as fuck. Not because he’s Satoru’s father, you and his family had a good relationship when you were dating. It’s more awkward that your specifically working for his son now.

“How are things between you and Satoru? You two are on... good terms?”

“...I guess.” You fiddle with your hands slightly, wanting to let out a long, deep sigh.

“You guess...?” He lets out a small sigh and continues, his tone slightly gentler this time. “Are you getting along with Satoru fine? No... issues, or arguments?”

“No, not at all sir. We’re okay now.” True, you aren’t. It’s more boring talk. But maybe it’s because you haven’t lashed out on him yet.

He studies your face as you speak, trying to read your expression. He can tell you're not being completely honest, but your words are spoken in a polite and professional tone. “I see..”

“So are you... enjoying working here? You're not feeling uncomfortable or anything?”

“No not at all, it's good working here. The building is amazing.”

“I'm glad to hear that. The building is quite impressive, isn't it? And I hope Satoru isn't... giving you too much work to do?”

You chuckle in response,”Well, I am working on tasks for next week so..”

“Ah, I see. So he’s already making you work ahead of time..”

As his father leaves your office, he makes his way to Satoru’s office, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sees him lazing around in his chair.

“Satoru...” His voice is a low, almost a disapproving grumble as he enters the room, closing the door behind him.

Satoru, hearing his father's voice, looks up with a slight expression of annoyance on his face. “Ugh... what is it?”

He lazily spins around in his chair, his body language oozing nonchalance and boredom.

His father doesn't look amused as he walks up to his son’s desk, a stern expression on his face. “We need to talk.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on Satoru as he continues. “I was just in your secretary's office, and you know who I saw?”

He raises an eyebrow at his father's words, a mixture of annoyance in his eyes. “Y/n?” He says in a bored tone, as if he's already expecting some sort of lecture from his father.

“Yes, why?”

“Oh, yeah. I hired her.” He responds casually, as if it’s normal to have your ex girlfriend work for you.

His father lets out a sigh, his expression becoming more agitated. “Anyway, you need to get married soon. You're already 28.”

Satoru groans and rolls his eyes at his father's words. He's heard this lecture from his father numerous times, and it always irritates him. “You're still on about that?”

His father remains stern and insistent, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, I am. You're at the age where you should be looking for a suitable partner. You can't just keep playing around forever and hooking up with random whores. It's time for you to settle down.”

Satoru lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Ugh, can we not have this conversation right now? I'm busy.”

His father's expression hardens even more at his dismissive attitude. “No, we're having this conversation now. And you're not going to use the ‘I'm busy' excuse this time. You've been putting this off for far too long, Satoru. It's embarrassing to have a son who has sex with prostitutes. You need a wife to put you in your place. You need to have kids so you remain a good man.”

Satoru's eyes narrow at his father's words. He knew it was pointless to argue at this point, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of irritation at being lectured like a child.

“And who do you expect me to marry? Do you have someone in mind?”

“Well, if you're asking for my opinion, yes I do have someone in mind. But knowing how stubborn you are, you're probably not going to like it.”

He raises an eyebrow again at his father's words, curious. He lets out a sigh, resigned to having this conversation. “Fine, spit it out. Who is it?”

His father takes a deep breath, bracing himself for Satoru's reaction. He knows what he's about to say will probably not go over well with him.

“Even though she’s your ex now.. y/n. She's a good girl and she comes from a respectable background and we liked her. You two were together for a while. Who better knows you? She'd be able to keep you in line. You're still hung up on her anyway, just stop fucking around and treat her well, then she'll be happy with you.”

His face immediately darkens at his father's words, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You can't be serious. You actually want me to marry y/n?”

His father lets out a small chuckle at Satoru's protest, not taking his words seriously at all. He's clearly amused by his son's denial. “Oh please, I know you're still into her. And she doesn't hate you, she's just mad at you because you messed up. And her boyfriend? Pfft, I saw him, he's a pathetic waste of space. She deserves someone better, someone like you. Just stop being a coward and admit you still like her.”

He lets out a scoff at his father's words. He can't believe his father is talking about y/n like this, as if he knows better than him. It's pissing him off, even though he’s right.

“You're seriously overstepping your boundaries, old man. I'm not a damn teenager who can't make decisions for themselves. I'm the CEO of this company, and I have a private life. No, I'm not marrying y/n. It's not happening.”

“You're acting like a child, Satoru. And don't give me that CEO bullshit, it won't work on me. You're still my son and I'm still your father, and I'm telling you to marry her. End of story. I'll arrange the marriage even if I have to force it, I'll get y/n to agree.”

Satoru's jaw clenches, his patience reaching its limit. He can feel anger coursing through him, and he has to force himself to stay calm. “You'll what? Arrange a marriage?! Dad, you're out of your damn mind. You know damn well y/n and I didn't end on good terms. We were constantly at each other's throats, it was a disaster. And forcing her to marry me? That's insane.”

His father scoffs, “Who else would you marry?”

“Anyone but y/n. Literally anyone. I’ll marry a stranger, I don't care. Just don’t push y/n onto me.” Satoru's voice is firm and unrelenting, but there's a hint of desperation in his eyes as he stares at his father.

His father lets out a frustrated sigh, seeing that his son is in no mood to listen to reason. He takes a deep breath and tries a different approach. “Alright then. I'll have a few respectable women, or girls your mother and I know come over to the family estate. They'll talk to you and you talk to them. Then come to me and tell me which one you prefer. Deal?”

Satoru’s expression softens slightly, his anger slowly subsiding. He doesn't like the idea of being set up with women he's never met, but it's better than being forced to marry his ex. “... Fine. But I'm not promising anything.”

His father smiles slightly, glad that he's finally getting through to Satoru. If he doesn’t prefer any of them, then he’ll definitely arrange you both. But he won’t mention that yet.

“Good. I'll arrange it then. And I better see you talking properly to these girls, got it? No snide comments or sarcasm. Just behave well. Don't embarrass me son.”

He rolls his eyes but nods reluctantly. “Yeah, yeah I'll be on my best behaviour. Don't worry.” He mutters, still not thrilled about the entire situation of marriage.

“Today, tomorrow, next week? When?”

“Next week. This coming Saturday. I'll have them head to your study room in the estate, not your apartment, so make sure you come over in the morning. Be ready.”

Satoru nods again, resigned to his fate. He knows his father is not backing down. “Alright, I'll be there.. Whatever.”

The next day, Satoru is bored in his office, idly scrolling through his social media feeds when he receives an email from you. He opens it up and reads through his schedule for the day, letting out a small sigh.

It's then that he suddenly remembers the conversation between him and his father, and the arrangement to bring the women over to their estate next week. He groans inwardly, not looking forward to it at all.

He could just do as his father's says and marry you instead. but you're his ex and you hate him because he's apparently toxic. and he doesn't even like you anymore since you became so bratty. At least, that what he tells himself.

As his thoughts swirl through his head, an idea starts to form. He glances at the door to his office, considering it for a moment. then he calls out to you through the phone speaker. “Hey, come in here for a moment.”

You hear his voice over the alert system in your office room and head over, once inside you speak, “Is something the matter?”

He motions for you to close the door behind you and sit down. “No, everything's fine. Just sit down.”

He waits for you to sit down on the chair opposite him, his eyes studying your face as you do so. He's not sure how you're going to react to what he's about to say.

“I need to ask you something. And I want you to be completely honest with me.”

Okay, you can do that.

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk in front of him as he looks you in the eye. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

You respond immediately, “No.” Did he expect you to be open considering our history? What an idiot.

He chuckles as he looks down, “Damn, you're still as bratty as ever.”

He leans back in his chair and looks at you again. “You still hate me, huh?”

You stare back at him, a bored expression on your face, “Obviously.” You hated his guts and he knows that.

“Yeah, I figured. We did end on bad terms after all, didn't we?” He speaks with a hint of arrogant irritation in his voice.

You sigh before you speak, “What do you want?”

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on the desk and entwining his fingers in front of him. His gaze is steady and intense as he looks at you. “I need you to listen closely to what I'm about to say and try to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

“What?”

Inhaling deeply, he prepares himself for your reaction. He knows this is going to be a difficult conversation. But he should at least ask before closing off the option.

“I'm going to ask you something... a little... hm. I don't know what's the word but, don't get all mad at me. It's just an offer from my father. it's not that I want to but I'm just letting you know.”

You groan in irritation at him, “Okay, so what is it?” He’s taking too long and you’re becoming impatient.

He almost chuckles at the frustration on your face. But he knows better than to make any dumb comments if he wants to even have a chance to explain himself.

“Alright, alright. I'll get to the point.” He clears his throat, preparing himself for your reaction. “My father wants me to get married. He gave me the first option to marry you but I denied it because, well I thought you'd say no anyway. So instead he arranged some women for me to meet next week at our estate.”

“Okay? What do you want me to do about that?”

He sighs, “You're really making it difficult for me to talk to you." He rubs his temple with his fingers, getting annoyed with your stubbornness. “Alright, I'm just gonna say it then.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at you straight in the eye. “I'm gonna ask you again. Do you still hate me, yes or no?”

“Yes. I hate you.”

“You really are damn stubborn, you know that?” He sits back in his chair, studying your face for any signs of weakness or doubt. But your expression remains icy and impenetrable, just like it always was before you broke up with him..

He leans forward again, his gaze never leaving your face. “Fine, you hate me. But that's not the question I'm asking.”

But that was the question he just asked?

“My father was going to arrange our marriage forcibly, but I told him not to because I thought you'd disagree. If you could, would you agree to the marriage?”

You contemplate for a moment, would you? You hate him, you can’t trust him anymore. Not when he cheated with some random prostitute. “It depends.”

He quirked an eyebrow at your answer, intrigued and slightly amused that you're actually considering the possibility. “Depends on what?”

“Money.” You say blankly. Hypothetically, at least. You weren’t being serious but if it were to happen you’d marry him for money. Because only money could make you get back with a cheating ex like Satoru.

He scoff at your response. It's so typical of you to think of the financial aspect first. But he doesn't seem too surprised. “Oh, you're such a greedy little gold digger. I'd be paying you to be married to me, huh?”

“What's the problem with that? I have money and come from wealth too, it’s only obvious I’d still want more. If I married you I’d want to be paid weekly.”

You watch him shake his head and chuckle, both amused and annoyed at your audacity. He never expected you to actually admit to being a gold digger so shamelessly. “Damn. You really have no shame, do you?”

He looks at you as he considers your proposition for a moment, “Weekly payments, huh? How much are you thinking?”

“Hm. To get married to you and leave my boyfriend... £100k to get married to you, then £2k weekly sent to my bank. I'm only saying that because it's not gonna happen.” You say the last sentence firmly, standing your ground as you glare at him from your seat.

He grins at the ridiculously bold request, “£100k to marry me? And £2k weekly? You're really trying to milk me for everything I've got, huh? You're fuckin’ expensive.”

“Those are reasonable offers if your rich. You have the money to give that.”

He can't deny that you're right. Though he finds your demands amusing and frustrating at the same time. "You really have no shame to ask for that much money, don't you?” He mutters under his breath.

“And why do you want £2k weekly? wouldn't I be providing you with everything as your husband?”

Ugh, he’s asking as if I’d ever accept him as my husband.

“What do you plan to do with the £2k weekly payments?”

“For myself, obviously. You’re questioning me as if it'd actually happen. I'm not marrying you.” You chuckle as you speak. “Was just answering your question from before.”

“I know you're not gonna marry me, it's just a damn hypothetical question.” he mutters, his voice edged with frustration. “But I'm asking why you'd want that much money for yourself?”

“Why wouldn't I? Plus If I had left over money, l'd pass it down to my children for inheritance.”

“Of course you're thinking about inheritance for your children,” he says in a sarcastic tone. “You know, most people get married for love, not just for money.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn't be marrying you for love, it'd be forced if ur father went through with it for real. Anyway, good luck to the women you're meeting next week. I have work to do and this conversation is annoying. I'll be taking my leave.”

He eyes you as you stand up and head toward the door, slightly annoyed and amused at the same time by your bluntness. “Right, right," he mutters, leaning back in his chair again. “Run off to do your work. Maybe you'll find another guy to milk for money while you’re at it.”

You roll your eyes and scoff as you exit the room, shutting the door behind you.

He lets out a long, heavy sigh and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head at the crazy idea that he even considered discussing the possibility of marriage with you. “Damn it...” he mutters to himself, “What the hell am I thinking... Tch. annoying bitch.”

Saturday finally rolls around, and Satoru finds himself sitting in his family's grand estate, waiting for the women his father had invited. He's sitting in his study room, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the couch with growing irritation. He still dreads the idea of having to meet all these women, especially after the conversation he had with you a few days before.

Hours passed by, but to no surprise, all the women were either bratty, annoying, clingy, boring or ugly. He heads to his fathers study room, his frustration growing with each step.

He had hoped at least one of the women would pique his interest, but they were all lacking in one way or another. Finally, he reaches his father's study room and knocks on the door. He waits a moment before hearing his father call out from inside, “Come in.” A small smirk playing on his father face.

He steps into the room seeing his father sat smoking a cigarette, his expression a mix of irritation and disappointment. As if he knew that you wouldn’t like any the women. He closes the door behind him and stands in front of his father's desk, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Judging by your face, I'm guessing the meetings didn't go well?”

Satoru lets out a heavy sigh “You could say that. None of the women you picked out were my type. Honestly, they were all damn awful to be honest.”

His father lets out a small chuckle at Satoru's blunt assessment. He leans back in his chair and looks at his son “I see. Well, I guess that's expected, given your picky taste in women. So marry y/n. I'll arrange it.”

His eyes widened at his father's words. He hadn't expected him to bring up your name again so casually.

“What? Wait, hang on I told you we shouldn’t-“

Cutting him off, his father waves his hand dismissively. “I know what you said, but you didn't find anyone suitable so there’s no other option.. You're not that old, but you should start thinking about your future. I'm tired of you always spending your time with prostitutes. Y/n’s a good girl, and she's from a good family that I know well. It's the perfect match.”

“That's bullshit, I don't care if she’s a 'good girl' we don’t like each other anymore, and you know that.”

“You can't just rely on picking women based on your taste. You have to consider the bigger picture, Satoru. Y/n is from a wealthy family, and a good partner for the future. You can't just dismiss her because you don’t like her. You have to think about how this will benefit you and your future. And don't lie to me, you loved her until you both started arguing constantly because of your behaviour. Fix yourself up. I'll speak to her and arrange the marriage, I'm good at persuading.”

Satoru clenches his fists, trying to keep his cool “Damn it...I can't just agree to marry her because it's convenient. What about my own feelings and preferences? I don't care if she's from a wealthy family or a 'good partner for the future.' I'm not some damn chess piece in your grand plan. Why the hell can't you just leave me alone about this? I don't want to be stuck down to one women I like my fucking prostitutes and why does that even bother you?! The public don't even know.”

His father slams his hand on the desk, his patience wearing thin at Satoru’s vulgar and immature words.

“Enough nonsense, Satoru! I'm tired of your selfish attitude. You're not a child anymore, you're 28 years old, it's time you start acting like an adult. Marriage is not just about your feelings, it's about responsibility, legacy and power. Y/n’s family status and background will bring stability benefits that will outweigh your damn personal preferences. I don't care how many damn prostitutes you sleep with, you're marrying y/n.”

“I've already spoken to her, I gave her a hypothetical question, and you want to know what she said?”

His father looks slightly surprised at his words, but he quickly regains his composure “And what did she say?”

“She said, if she did marry me it would be for money.”

His voice is laced with frustration and anger as he crosses his arms, his glare fixed on his father.

“She was only interested in the damn money. Nothing else. Told me if you forced her to marry me, she'd only go ahead with it if she was pre-paid £100k and then paid a further £2k by me weekly. then she said she's only saying that because it'd never happen and she won't marry me.”

His father's expression remains neutral, “What's so bad about that? We have wealth and so does she. it's only normal for her to want more, especially if your her ex. I don’t blame her.”

His anger reaches a boiling point at his father's nonchalant response. He leans forward, his eyes blazing with frustration, “You're goddamn right she's my ex. And that should be enough reason for you not to try to force me to marry her against my will.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down, but his frustration is evident in his every movement.

His father leans back in his chair, his expression still calm, “Listen, I understand that you have your reasons for not wanting to marry her. But you have to understand that I'm only thinking about what's best for you. She comes from a wealthy family, and she shares similar values to ours. She'd be a valuable addition to our family, and I'm sure you'd be able to find happiness with her if you stopped your toxic behaviour.”

Satoru's jaw clenches as he listens to his father's words. He can't believe that his father is still pushing this idea, despite his objections. “You just don't get it, do you? It's not just about your stupid values and wealth. I have my own life, my own preferences, my own damn desires.”

He shakes his head, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration. “You can't force me to marry someone, my ex, just because it's convenient for you or our family reputation.”

“Satoru, stop being so goddamn egotistical. This isn't just about pleasing me or our ideals. It's about doing what's right for your future. And let's be honest, your current lifestyle isn't exactly sustainable in the long run. You need a partner who understands and respects you, whom you can share your life with. And someone who can keep you in check. Leave my room. I'll arrange you and y/n. That's the end of it.”

“Ugh, fine! but don't expect me to treat her like a goddess wife.” He was tired of these lectures, tired of his futile defensive arguments.

“Trust me, after spending a few days with her as your wife, you'll come to appreciate her, she was always a good daughter figure when she’d visit whilst you dated.”

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands “And I expect you to be on your best behaviour. No more womanising or hookups, got it?”

He rolls his eyes, feeling frustrated but also resigned to the situation “Yeah, yeah, I got it. No more women, no more hookups. You want me to be a damn saint, I'll be a saint.”

A day later, his father calls me, telling me to visit their estate and that he has something important to discuss with me. I head over and enter the family estate, a butler leading me to his fathers study room. Am I going to get fired already? No.. if I were to be getting fired I’d be called to Satoru’s office.

Satoru sits in his father's room, staring out the window as his father sits beside him. His thoughts still swirl with anger and frustration but he knows he has no choice to argue with his father.

Suddenly, his father's butler knocks on the door and enters the room. “Excuse me. Miss l/n is here saying that you called for her?” He steps aside, revealing you standing in the doorway.

“Hello..”

His father stands up and smiles at you warmly

“Ah, y/n, please come in. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

I enter the room, closing the door behind me and glance at satoru confused, his expression neutral, only with slightly furrowed brows. Then I returned my gaze back onto his father.

His father gestures for you to take a seat across from him and Satoru. “Please, have a seat. There's something important we need to discuss with you.”

After taking your seat, His father leans forward, his tone serious “Y/n, I've called you here because Satoru and I have had a chat recently. And we both agreed that it would be beneficial for all of us if you and Satoru were to get married.”

Oh god, he can’t be serious. “Mr. Go-“

His father continues, ignoring your reaction

“I understand that this might come as a surprise, but hear me out. Satoru needs a partner who can help him grow and mature. And I believe that you are the perfect candidate for that. You come from a good family and have a strong sense of responsibility. You can provide the stability and guidance that Satoru desperately needs.”

“I... thank you for the offer but I-“

His father holds up a hand, stopping you from protesting further “You'll be given the money you want. £100k beforehand and £2k weekly by this idiot here, right?”

You part your lips slightly and your breath catches in your dry throat. You weren’t being serious with that amount, simply stating it because you didn't expect it to happen. You wave your hands in protest as you smile awkwardly “No, No I-“

His father raises an eyebrow, clearly sceptical of your protest, “You were the one who suggested the money. Don't try to back out of it now. I’m offering a significant amount of financial security. Not to mention, being married to Satoru would mean a life of luxury and comfort.”

Satoru, who had been silent until now, finally speaks up. He leans back in his chair, a mix of irritation and resignation in his voice. “Just take the damn deal, y/n.”

“Tch, don't tell me what to do.”

“Why are you being so difficult? we're offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity here. You'd be a fool to reject it.”

You roll your eyes, looking away and sighing. He's right, but it would be hell for you. Get back with the ex who cheated on you with a prostitute..? It’s crazy.

His father clasps his hands together, sensing that you're starting to give in, “If that's not enough, £200k beforehand, £3k weekly.”

“You're serious...? About this?”

“Absolutely. I've already spoken to your parents and they agreed, but do you?”

Satoru watches you intently, waiting for your answer. He's starting to feel a sense of annoyance at your hesitancy, but he tries to hide it.

His father leans forward, “Y/n, you won't have to work another day.”

"You'll have access to the best of everything, a life of luxury, and you'll be a part of a high-profile family. Think about it, you'll never have to worry about money or anything again."

“I mean I already don't... have to worry…” You’re starting to give in. Oh god this can’t be good.

“Yes, but the offer is still there. You'd have more. You know our family is #1 wealthiest in Japan, your family is #50 wealthy. Think about it.”

Satoru can't contain himself anymore, he leans forward, his irritation evident in his voice “Damn it, you're being stubborn for no reason. Just take the deal already.”

You scowl at his words and tone, giving a dirt as you furrow your brows.

Sator glares right back, his irritation at your defiant attitude growing.

“Just take the fucking deal you love money anyway!”

“Fine!” I yell back with a frustrated groan.

His father lets out a satisfied exhale, a small smile on his face.

“Excellent. I'm glad you came to your senses.”

Satoru leans back, a mix of frustration and resignation on his face. “Finally, you gave in.”

His father’s tone became more serious as he speaks, “Now that that's settled, there are a few conditions that we need to discuss.”

He pauses, looking at Satoru, “First, Satoru. You will not contact any of your former lovers or hookups. The public and our family would look down on that. You must maintain a clean image as a couple.”

You scoff a laugh. “Tch. Of course you had prostitutes right after I left you.” He really was a damn sex freak. You can’t believe he didn’t catch on to the fact you knew he cheated on you. What a dickhead.

He rolls his eyes, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment at being called out on his behavior.

“Yeah, I did. So what? I had em before you and had em after.”

The audacity for him to blatantly admit such a disgusting thing makes you stare at him in both disbelief and disgust. You hid it well, but it did hurt you. It was like as if he poured acid onto your heart.

His father shakes his head, his disapproval evident

“Satoru that's exactly the type of behaviour that needs to change, immediately. You are a part of a powerful family, and your actions reflect on us all. No more of that immature behaviour.”

He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his seat, looking away, “Yeah, I know.”

“Second, y/n, you will be expected to support Sator in every way possible. This means attending family events and public appearances with him, offering him emotional support, and generally acting as a supportive partner.”

“Of course that's basic stuff, I can do that.” You respond softly, and maturely.

“Good, I'm glad you understand.” He clears his throat,“Onto the third condition. This is the most important one.

His voice takes a firm, serious tone “It involves the matter of heirs. You'll be expected to have children within the next 2 years of the marriage. Ideally, a son and a daughter.”

You should have expected that as a condition too.

“This is non-negotiable. We want to ensure the continuing of our family line, and we expect you two to fulfil your duty.”

I smirk slightly as I look down at my lap, “Do I get paid for pregnancy too?” I ask sarcastically.

"Actually, yes. You'll receive an extra £80k for each pregnancy, and £150k for giving birth.”

Your breath hitches once more, he can’t be serious.. “What?” That amount is far too ridiculously huge, even for you.

His father smiles slightly, seeing your surprise. "That's correct. We understand that pregnancy can be a difficult and exhausting experience, both physically and mentally. That's why we're willing to offer additional compensation as a token of our appreciation for your efforts in continuing our bloodline."

“Wait I was just joking-“

His father chuckles slightly, dismissing your protest.“Oh, I know you were joking, but we take this seriously. The compensation is non-negotiable. We want to ensure that you and Satoru have all the support and resources you need to start a family.”

“But that’s not necessary I promis-“

“It is necessary. He’s our only child, it’s only right that we gift his wife and mother of his children. And you’ll be keeping him in check from his…. Behaviours.”

To think you’re actually agreeing to this is mental. If you were to speak to yourself a week ago you’d be laughing hysterically.

“Right.. right. Next two years..”

“Yes, within the next 2 years. We want to ensure that the family line is continued in a timely manner.”

Satoru remains mostly silent in his seat, a hint of irritation in his expression at the conversation's direction.

His father continues, a stern tone in his voice, “It's not solely your responsibility dear, of course. Satoru will also be expected to play an active role in the child-rearing process, but you will be the main caregiver and nurturer.”

I mean, it’s not so bad. But it’s Gojo Satoru who will be your husband and father of your children. What if he just cheated again? How does his father expect you to keep him in line?

He looks back and forth between you and Satoru

"You both will work together to raise your children, providing them with the love, care, and stability that a family should have. It won't be easy, but we believe that you're both capable of it."

Satoru bristles visibly at his father's words. The thought of having children so soon with his bitch of an ex, is far from appealing to him. Yes, he still has a few feelings for you, but not enough to want to be forced with you. Not like this. But he bites back any protest, knowing it's fruitless to argue with his father.

"Also, if you hate each other behind closed doors, expect you both to appear as a loving couple for the public.”

“Yes.. we will.”

"And Satoru, you better stay behaved. We don't want any more scandals that might embarrass the family's name.

You're lucky they haven't seen you with those whores you've met."

He grits his teeth at his father's comment, feeling a mixture of anger and embarrassment at his indiscretions being brought up time and time again. "I already told you, I'll stop those hookups. There's no need to constantly bring it up."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Just remember, your actions reflect on this family.”

His gaze shifts back to you.

"And y/n, I know you’ll keep Satoru in line. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

“I will.”

"Good. I have faith in you to keep Satoru in check."

His expression suddenly turns serious again.

“One more thing, both of you. Absolutely no infidelity after marriage. I expect absolute loyalty from both of you.”

“Say that to him not me” I mutter, rolling my eyes towards Satoru’s direction.

Satoru clicks his tongue at your words.

His father sighs, directing his gaze at Satoru. “Satoru, I expect complete loyalty from now on. No more flings or hookups with anyone else. Your marriage is solely with y/n now.”

Satoru scowls at his father's words but doesn't argue. He knows that resisting is pointless. He turns his gaze to you, his expression a mixture of irritation and resignation. “I understand.”

[samiiy20]

♡ 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑴𝒚 𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 ♡

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Lee Minho x fem!reader 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: When you thought it was finally your time to shine, fate plays against you by pairing you with the person you hate the most, making you have to work together to win a dance competition. 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: Slow burn, rivals/enemies to lovers, smut 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 11k (damn it, sorry) 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒕

N/A: Sorry for the wait, but here it is at last. I'm actually really proud of this, it's my longest work so far so if you like it please reblog it, that would help me a lot. I thought of making this a sort of mini series of the kind of love you would have with the other members, so look out for news soon.

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Mention of anxiety attacks (if you are sensitive don't read it) Insults, nicknames: (darling) ,unprotected sex (don't do it), semi-public sex, oral sex, fingering. (I'm sorry if I forgot something) A little bit of angust if you squint your eyes.

Dancing was everything to you, ever since you could remember you knew you were destined to shine on stage, although it wasn't always easy. Over the years you had to do many things, you gave up many others and even lost relationships with important people to pursue your dreams, you worked very hard to get into a prestigious academy and when you finally did you worked even harder to make a name for yourself in the industry, but it was harder than you thought, but still you weren't willing to give up.

You trained for a long time, so much that sometimes you forgot the hours you spent in the practice room, but when your name was among the highest positions you felt that everything was worth it, but there were times when you felt the opposite, no matter how much you concentrated and dedicated time sometimes it wasn't enough, that's why you were determined to win this competition.

When you heard your name you took a breath and ignored all the looks from your classmates and went on stage. The pressure in your chest increased with each step, but you continued walking until you reached the center and looked up to try to see the judges, but with the light reflecting off you it was impossible to know where they were.

You got into position, raised your arms, stretched your legs and stood on your toes.

The music resonated loudly throughout the place, but only you could feel it running through your veins as you danced, it was as if it entered your body and took control of it. You felt like you were in another place when you danced, you felt like for a moment everything else ceased to exist and there was only room for the music.

You gave every part of yourself to that dance and when the music finally stopped you were aware of your heart beating strongly. You opened your eyes and you were back on stage. Your breathing was accelerated and your feet hurt, but you could only smile as you tried to recover.

“Thank you very much” you gave a small bow, giving way to the nerves that invaded your body and you left the stage to wait for the judges’ final decision. The other people waited just as anxiously as they watched the number of participants getting smaller and smaller.

You stayed to look at the others, but none of them was better than the last, many fell or made mistakes because of their nerves and that only made you feel more confident for a moment, until you saw him.

Lee Minho.

He was new, but he earned the teachers’ recognition easily, something that bothered you since it took you several years for the teacher to even remember your name, but after finding out that his family was rich and had enough money to buy a place anywhere it only made your hatred towards him grow.

You always avoided him wherever you went and if you met him by mistake you just ignored him, you couldn’t stand people like him, crushing the effort and time of others just for a little money.

Still, what bothered you the most about him was that despite everything he did pretty well. When it was his turn, people crowded behind the curtains to watch him and you rolled your eyes, but you didn't leave.

“He's amazing” you heard someone say “he's sure to get the lead role” you sighed heavily and turned to see the person who said that comment in your presence and he just lowered his head when your eyes met.

The music started playing through the speakers and he made the first move. You knew the choreography by heart, you had seen him practice over and over again. His movements were delicate and he had perfect control over his body, his arms moved to the beat of the music and his feet marked his steps with harmony.

Lee Minho had a unique glow among everyone, he stood out among the rest with his simplicity and fluid movements, in addition, he was tall, with a sharp face and full lips, but his gaze was cold and calculating. It was like Minho was born with a natural talent that made him steal the attention in any room he entered and that, too, bothered you.

You peeked your head out a little and saw how everyone was lost appreciating his dance, a small part inside you knew it, knew that all your effort had been for nothing (again) and it was all because of him. You walked away from the place with a cloud of ideas in your head and you felt a pressure in your chest and labored breathing, you looked around but your vision began to get blurry.

“Shit” you whispered trying to find a lonely place because you knew what was coming.

You tried to control yourself, but every second that passed was worse. Your hands began to shake and you felt an invisible pressure surround your body, but you let out a small sigh of relief when you saw the bathroom door.

You ran and checked that there was no one there before closing the door and collapsing on the floor. There was no air left and you felt like you could faint at any moment.

You closed your eyes and tried to control your tears, but you knew it was impossible with all those thoughts tormenting you, so you let the sorrow envelop you.

When you came out of the bathroom again, everyone was gathered to hear the judges' decision. Despite your swollen eyes and red nose, you walked among everyone with your head held high and noticed Minho in the distance along with two other people, but you sat far away from the rest, where the shadows would hide you a little.

Everyone was nervous and you could feel the uncertainty in the environment, you just wanted all this to end so you could breathe.

The judges approached where everyone was gathered and the room was filled with absolute silence, everyone was holding hands or praying in their heads to be chosen, but everyone knew that only one could have the lead role.

“First of all we want to thank you for participating in this competition, you have all done amazing” you rolled your eyes, you didn’t have time to listen to a whole sermon, you just wanted to hear your name or leave that place “but after discussing it for a while we have made an important decision” everyone in the room had stopped breathing and you could see some of them closing their eyes.

You hated the wait, the silence was eating you up inside and everything around you seemed to shrink, people seemed to have disappeared and you were alone, there was no one who could help you with the pressure that was taking over you, you were cursing in your mind until suddenly between the fog of thoughts you heard your name.

Everyone turned to look at you and a few applauded, but most just sighed tiredly from the defeat. “Please come forward.” You were still dizzy, but as best you could, you stood up and walked past the judges. The weight of your body vanished when you saw everyone on the other side and you knew it had all been worth it.

You dared to look at them one by one, but when you met Minho’s gaze, you stopped to savor the victory. Minho just narrowed his eyes and smiled. You felt a shiver run through your body when he looked you up and down.

“Please don’t be discouraged,” said one of the judges. “We have something new for this occasion.” The people again became agitated and the whispers became louder and louder. “This time we have decided to give the opportunity to two people.”

“What?!” Your voice wasn't the only one that echoed through the place, everyone was surprised by the new announcement and you didn't know how to react, this had been your chance to shine and now you'll have to share it? People were once again in an uproar and the whispers were getting louder, but your mind could only think of the worst.

“We want to implement a new dynamic” said another of the judges present to calm the people “so the other person will be…” people were once again in an uproar, you closed your eyes praying for a miracle but then you heard it “Lee Minho”

You heard some people sigh, others applaud and shout, but in your mind there was only room for one thought as you saw Minho's triumphant smile approaching. You wanted to run, scream, throw yourself through the window and run away from here, but your feet didn't move, you were static with a lost look while Minho stood next to you.

“It will be a pleasure to work with you, darling,” he whispered to you while the judges were still saying something that you couldn't understand while your heart was pounding hard in your chest wanting to get out, the only thing you wanted at this moment was to wake up from this nightmare.

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

You had prepared yourself hours before for this moment, you had arrived about 10 minutes ago, but you couldn't even raise your hand to knock knowing that on the other side was your worst nightmare. You breathed a few more times and counted in your head to do it, but the right moment never seemed to come.

"Damn it" you whispered trying again, you closed your eyes and tried to breathe calmly "one… Two…"

"Just do it" You opened your eyes and turned to that unknown voice, but you would have preferred not to.

Minho was in the hallway leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a backpack on his shoulders.

"How long have you been there?"

"The same amount of time you've been trying to knock on that door" you sighed and for a moment you felt embarrassed "it's not that hard, you know?"

You weren't going to talk to him if it wasn't necessary and after the small humiliation you finally decided to open the door. The room was empty and you got worried when you heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't turn around to look at him.

You threw your stuff in a corner and sat on the floor, you knew the teacher wouldn't be long in coming so you decided to start stretching.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Minho in the other corner of the room, his gaze on you was heavy and although you tried to ignore it something inside you made you want to look at him, dare him.

You dared to look at him in the mirror and held his gaze, no words were needed to read the anger in his eyes, you knew he would have preferred to keep the spot for himself too, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of giving up your spot just because of his presence.

Before you could say or do anything, the teacher entered the room and began giving them orders. You took a breath and silently prayed that you could survive the rest of the day.

“That’s it” you dropped to the floor as soon as the teacher turned around and walked out the door. You didn’t expect her to be more strict than in class, your feet hurt and your whole body felt tense, but according to her this was nothing more than stretching.

“I don’t understand why they chose you” Minho said suddenly starting his game to annoy you, but you ignored him knowing that it would annoy him more “anyone would do it better than you” you pressed your lips together to hold back the words, but you were starting to feel that little flame inside you start to burn

“Then why aren’t they here?” you answered, unable to hold it in and grabbed your things to leave before you lost control.

You left the room as quickly as possible and ran down the stairs to enter the classroom, where the atmosphere was no better than being alone with Minho. You knew there was hate and envy floating in the air, but you ignored it. You always knew that sometimes people hid their true intentions and you were terrified of hanging out with the wrong person, which is why you preferred to be alone.

The class wasn't the best either and you just left there as soon as your day was over. The way home was long, but you preferred to walk to clear your mind a little, but when you got there you just sighed because you knew no one would welcome you.

Sometimes you just wanted someone to talk to you a little, to accompany you to dinner or to invite you out at night, but all you had was an old cat that only meowed when he saw you arrive, but even so you were all you had and you loved him.

You picked him up in your arms and stroked his head as you threw your things away to head to the kitchen.

“Did you miss me?” the cat purred and you let him go to leave him food that he thanked you for by meowing before eating.

Your night routine was nothing special, eating, bathing, watching your favorite series and going to bed leaving a space in the bed for your cat. You looked at the window and sighed wondering if all your decisions in the past were the best idea, you used to have friends, you got the best grades in university and your parents had been proud of you once. You turned over in bed when you felt your cat and hugged him trying to hold back your tears.

“Do you love me?” the cat meowed and you burst into tears feeling an emptiness in your chest.

You had pursued your dreams, but at what cost?

You had lost everything.

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

The next day wasn't any better than the day before, or the next, or the next. The whole week you found yourself stuck in a routine between having to endure seeing Minho's face every day, having to endure the hateful looks of your classmates, and your boring routine at home.

The days didn't seem to get any better and when the teacher finally decided on the choreography they would present you were a little happy.

"Okay, now we'll start the real classes" the teacher proceeded to explain that she had been analyzing them to see their strengths and weaknesses, she made some recommendations and then proceeded to show them the dance floor while she performed each one's part separately. You memorized all the steps you could and went over them in your head "your turn"

You didn't turn to look at Minho and you stood in the center of the dance floor waiting for the music to start playing, but when you felt Minho stand behind you and place a hand on your waist you looked at him in the mirror. He didn't look down and you tensed up a little taking a step forward, but he grabbed you and came close to your ear.

“Don't look at me, darling, I wasn't the one who put the steps”

“Don't call me that” Minho just smiled and before you could say anything else the music started and you just rolled your eyes and focused on dancing.

The times you had to interact with Minho your body would get tense and you couldn't stand to look at him, you looked away somewhere else and just focused on doing it right on your own. The teacher corrected the mistakes and they repeated the choreography over and over again, but that didn't make the experience of dancing with Minho any better.

“Again”

You held back a sigh and closed your eyes, your head was starting to hurt. You got into position and took a breath to endure it all again, even though your legs were burning from the effort you were making.

You felt a look and looked up only to see Minho squinting, you hated the way he looked at you, as if you were a sculpture he didn't understand and tried to decipher, as if his gaze could make him see beyond your head and be able to see your thoughts.

“Stop looking at me”

“You're shaking” you gritted your teeth and just looked away “are you scared?”

The music started to play and you moved to the side following the steps, but when you were close to him again you couldn't stay quiet.

“Scared? Of what exactly?” Minho took your hand and you stood on your toes on one foot while he spun you around “of you?”

“Yes” You rolled your eyes at the same time he let go and you continued dancing until you were facing him.

“Don’t make me laugh” Minho grabbed you by the waist and you let your weight fall back while stretching your arms “I feel nothing for you but hate” you heard a dry laugh

“It must be hard, right?” you raised your eyebrows, but you didn’t stop dancing around him while the music was still playing “I can’t feel hate for you” you missed a step because of his words and you only heard the teacher’s voice in the distance while your thoughts were scrambling in your head, what did that mean?

“You lie”

“I don’t” he said when you crossed in front of him and when you were in front of him again for a second to gain momentum and jump you heard him “the only thing I feel for you is pity”

His words echoed in your mind, you didn’t notice how close the floor was and you stumbled. You fell to your knees, but you didn’t try to get up. His words affected you more than you thought and it made you burn inside

“Get up girl, this isn’t over” the teacher’s voice made you look up, but then someone interrupted in the room “take a break” she said before leaving them

You looked at the floor as Minho’s words echoed over and over in your head. You wanted to throw yourself at him, hit him, yell at him, but instead you just closed your eyes and tried to think of something else.

“You’re pathetic” you looked up, but you didn’t care much until he spoke again “you haven’t done anything to deserve the position”

You wouldn’t let that go unnoticed, he could have said anything else and you would get angry, but he didn’t know all the effort and sacrifice you had made to get here and you wouldn’t let him say that lightly. You stood up and closed the distance, you pushed his chest, but his crooked smile only made you want to hit him with all your might.

"You're nobody to say that," you pointed a finger at his chest as he raised his hands, "you know nothing."

"Do you think that with your miserable efforts you'll reach the top?" The rage inside you was spilling out everywhere and there was nothing that could stop it.

"I've worked hard to be here…" your voice cracked a little, but you continued "But of course, you wouldn't understand… after all, your place was already bought from the beginning" the words were left floating in the air and you noticed how his smile faded, his eyes were two burning black points that would burn the world if they could, but you stayed there, burning with him.

Minho couldn't stand being around you, everything about you made him ignite the anger inside him, your mere presence in the room bothered him, since he saw you dance for the first time he knew it immediately, you were that kind of person that bothered him more than anything in the world, that kind of deluded person that risks everything for their dreams.

“Your efforts are of no use here, darling,” he said suddenly, you clenched the shirt in your fists as he held your hands, “you are pathetic wherever you go,” his voice was filled with hate and you could see it in his eyes, “why don’t you do everyone a favor and go back to where you belong? To that filthy little place…”

His words were choked off before you could allow him to continue, you had freed yourself from his grip and left a mark on his cheek. You weren’t going to let him continue talking badly about you, you had enough with having to share the position, you wouldn’t let him insult you in any other way.

Your eyes were burning and you didn’t know how to speak, so you just pushed him away and got out of there, you ran through the hallways with a pressure in your chest that you already knew. You opened the first door you found and locked yourself in one of the empty rooms before falling again.

You touched your chest and tried to take a breath, but you knew it was useless, that lonely and empty feeling had made itself present and you knew you couldn't do anything to stop it. You stifled a scream deep inside yourself when you remembered his words, everything around you faded away and you let yourself be carried away to the depths of that feeling.

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

The hatred for Minho did nothing but grow from that day on, you didn't speak to him if he spoke to you at all and you didn't even bother to look at him anymore. Plus, you were fighting the inner voice in your head that screamed all your doubts about your future.

You had so many other things to think about, like for example the choreography you were dancing, but with everything else you couldn't think clearly and you were making too many mistakes, so much so that the teacher had left a while ago, but Minho insisted on continuing and you simply agreed almost without realizing it.

"To the right" you heard before colliding with Minho "don't you know where your right is?" you rolled your eyes and sighed, you no longer had the spirit to continue doing this, your body was tired and your mind scrambled with a thousand thoughts. Plus, you weren't going to put up with Minho's insults.

You walked around the room and grabbed your things, but before you left the room Minho crossed your path. You looked up angrily and sighed.

“Get away”

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as you stepped aside and he did the same “this isn’t over”

“It’s over for me” once again he blocked your path and you gritted your teeth

“No” you closed your eyes tired of all this

“I won’t say it again” you warned him pointing your finger at his chest, but that didn’t seem to intimidate him

“You’re not taking this seriously”

“As if that matters to you” you said with venom in every word “after this you can continue as if nothing happened” Minho let out a sigh

“You think so?” you hesitated to answer him for a moment, you didn’t know what he meant, but it seemed like there was something else behind his words, but right now you didn’t care.

“Move” Minho blocked your way again and you were starting to get annoyed again

“We have to do this”

“What if I don’t want to do this? What are you going to do?” Minho stood there and you threw things aside, you pushed his body but he didn’t move “Why are you even doing this? You’ve never had to fight for what you want” you said feeling like everything you had kept inside was starting to emerge “I’m tired of doing everything just for nothing” you said almost like a confession while you were still trying to push him away

“Do you think you’re the only one who has problems?”

“Of course not, but…” you took a breath, this was absurd “do you even know everything I had to go through to get here? Of course not, you don’t know shit” you took a breath and threw out your words before he did it first “I had to give up a good life, with a good career, where I was sure I would make tons of money, I had friends until I found out they were just idiots” your voice started to break as you remembered everything, but you needed to continue, keeping everything to yourself for so long consumed you and you just let it out like a bomb that had been activated and couldn’t be stopped “my parents… they decided to act like I didn’t exist because this path wouldn’t take me anywhere and when I tried to prove them wrong… you appear…” you hit his chest and bowed your head shedding your tears.

Minho had remained silent, he felt uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say or do, he just stood there watching you break down little by little and your eyes spilled the sea of ​​tears that you had held back for so long.

He didn't want to say it and he wasn't going to, but a part of him knew how you felt, he knew that feeling and when you looked up at him he could see it, he could see the emptiness in your eyes and the loneliness inside you, but he couldn't do anything but look at you.

After coming back to reality you realized that you were crying in front of Minho, shame took over you and you just pushed him with all your strength and ran down the hall, you needed to get away from that place, you needed to get away from Minho, get away from all the thoughts that ran through your mind and clouded your vision, but you knew that no matter how hard you ran you had nowhere to go.

With your heart racing, your mind clouded and your vision blurry you managed to reach the stairs, but before you could continue moving forward someone called you, you turned around for a second and saw Minho running after you. You took a wrong step and felt your foot slip.

The last thing you felt was the immense, sharp pain of the blows to your body and foot. When you finished rolling down the stairs, all you could see was the ceiling covered in a bit of darkness. You couldn't move even if you tried. The floor seemed comforting for a moment and you stayed there, right in that position while everything around you seemed to fade away along with everything else.

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You were sitting in one of the many seats in the theater, front row, but you were too small and you just wanted to go home to play, but your mother asked you to be patient. Suddenly the lights went out and you felt a shiver run through your body when you noticed someone walking on the stage and then, the lights turned on focusing on her.

The music started playing and she began to dance, her hands moved delicately and it seemed like her feet made her float in the air. You were left with your mouth open and the whole time you had the feeling of watching the best thing in the world. When everything was over the theater was filled with applause, everyone seemed to admire and adore her.

At that moment you knew, you wanted to be like her.

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Tears were still running from your eyes when you woke up, your head and some parts of your body hurt, you remembered the fall on the stairs and you reacted, but when you sat up you realized you weren't in the academy. You were in a big bed with sheets covering your body and a rag on your head, everything around you was unknown and an alarm went off inside you.

You quickly sat up pushing the sheets, but when you tried to stand up your foot felt a pain that made you fall to the floor. You cursed and grabbed the edge of the bed to stand up again, but when you poked your head out you saw a cat in the middle of the bed that meowed when it saw you, but it made you let out a small cry from the fright.

The door suddenly opened and you stood still when you saw Minho.

“What are you doing on the floor?”

“You? What are you doing here?” Minho raised his eyebrows and a small smile appeared on his face

“It’s my house”

“What?!” You stood up with effort and complained a little about the sharp pain in your foot

“You fell down the stairs” Minho ran his hands through his hair and you noticed that he seemed tired “I… didn’t know what to do” your eyes met for a moment, but the next second you looked away remembering everything that had happened “I don’t know where you live… nobody really does” you bit your lip when you heard it and everything seemed to make sense

You felt embarrassed, thinking that Minho helped you after everything you confessed, but, even so, that didn’t free you from everything he had said about you. You sat on the edge of the bed because of a sharp pain in your foot and looked at your foot.

He was kneeling and you were scared for a moment thinking that you wouldn’t be able to dance, although a part of you was glad about it.

“You’ll be fine in a few days, it’s just a small sprain” Minho said

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been through something similar” you looked at your foot again, you didn’t know how long it would take for the swelling to go down and you sighed “that’s nothing, you’ll be able to walk in a couple of days”

The cat meowed taking you both out of its bubble, Minho approached and picked it up petting it, reminding you of your own cat.

“I have to go” you said hurriedly

“It’s raining” you paid attention for a moment and looked at the window to see that the sky was grey and the glass was full of small drops of water

“Shit” you complained

“You can stay”

“No” you said getting up and trying to take a few steps, but you stumbled, although you didn’t fall “it’s too late”

“Then let me take you home”

“No”

“Are you planning to walk in the rain in that state?” His gaze scanned you from top to bottom and stopped at your aching foot. You gritted your teeth. You knew you couldn’t walk, but you weren’t going to accept Minho doing anything else for you, not after what happened before.

“If I have to crawl home, I will do it just to be away from you.” Minho sighed and let go of the cat as he took a few steps to where you were. You wanted to get away, but you couldn’t and you just looked up.

“Then let me…”

“No, I won’t allow you to keep doing… this,” you said, raising your arms. “I don’t need your mercy, or your help. I can do it alone like I always have.” Minho stood still, looking at you with a strange expression that you couldn’t understand. “Do you expect me to thank you? Is that why you did all this?”

“No” Minho walked away without another word, but before reaching the door he stopped “If you want to leave someone else can take you home, if not, you can crawl home to get away from me” the cat got off the bed and followed him when you heard his last words “but not forever, darling”

The ride home was silent, the driver didn't speak to you besides asking your address but you were grateful for that, you didn't want to talk, you just wanted to get home and lie down on the bed. Although questions about Minho were starting to form in your mind.

When you opened the door a loud meow greeted you and you could only sigh in relief to see your cat. You picked him up and walked through the house to go give him some food.

“I’m sorry baby, I know you’re hungry” you said petting him when he took a big bite of the food “I was… busy” you knew it was absurd to try to explain it to him, but still something inside you needed to get it out “actually… I don’t know what happened” you sat on the floor and spread your legs while petting the feline “I fell down the stairs and then someone… helped me, although I don’t understand why, he didn’t owe me anything” you sighed and looked at the ceiling “he’s… he’s… an idiot, right?” the cat just meowed and kept eating.

That night you couldn’t sleep well, you had very strange dreams where Minho appeared and every time you woke up you hit yourself on the head to make him go away, but you couldn’t do it, plus you felt like his damn scent had stayed with you and you screamed into the pillow when you couldn’t do anything to get rid of it.

You tossed and turned in bed, but nothing could take your thoughts away from Minho and you hated him. You needed to calm down, but anything you thought about reminded you of him. You stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity and when you were finally managing to fall asleep it was when you thought of dark, cold, calculating eyes.

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Your foot still hurt a little, but you could bear it. You arrived early to rehearsal and you were surprised to see the empty room. You stood in the middle of the room for a moment and looked at yourself in the mirror, but you couldn't bear to look at yourself for too long without turning to your thoughts.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. A light melody began to play in your head and as if your body was moving on its own, you began to follow the melody. For a moment, all your worries, thoughts and feelings disappeared.

You let yourself go and danced around the room without any ties. It was just you and the music in your head. You danced for yourself and poured everything you felt into your dance. You felt every fiber move inside you. You felt your arms and legs synchronize to take you away from there and for the first time in a long time, you could feel like you were you again.

When you opened your eyes again, a part of you felt lighter, as if dancing had brought back a part of you that you had abandoned long ago. You smiled, trying to hold back your tears.

“Wow, you know how to dance.” You turned around suddenly only to find Minho leaning against the door frame.

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it.” He walked into the room, but you stayed where you were without taking your eyes off him. “I see you feel better.” He looked you up and down, and a small shiver ran through your body when he stared at you for too long.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Take this,” he said, handing you a bag, but you didn’t move and raised an eyebrow questioning his action. “It’s for your foot.”

“I don’t want it.” You crossed your arms and looked up. “Do you expect that with this, I’ll forgive you and forget everything you said?”

“I wasn’t the only one who spoke” you felt your cheeks burn a little as you remembered your own words “just take it and that’s it”

“No”

“Why does it bother you so much?” Minho sighed a little tiredly and you noticed the anger in his voice “Is it just because you’re not used to someone caring about you or is it because it’s me?”

Your words drowned in the depths of your chest and you wondered if you had heard correctly. Was he worried? About you? His words floated in your mind for a moment and stirred something inside you. You gritted your teeth and looked away, you didn’t know the answer and you didn’t want to find out right then.

“Just take it” he said annoyed taking your hand and making you hold the bag “and accept it” you were in shock, but you didn’t say anything, Minho walked away from you and left the room before you could say anything.

Once alone again, curiosity made you open the bag only to see a couple of medications and some candy, but among them you saw a chocolate bar and you were left wondering how he knew it was your favorite.

“Idiot” you whispered trying not to smile as you took a small bite.

The days got better, you felt that the rehearsals were more bearable, but you knew that something felt different, something inside you still worried you and made you wonder about the strange change in Minho's behavior. You didn't understand why from one day to the next he started to behave more tolerable with you, he no longer insulted you and he didn't argue with you.

“We're getting closer to the big day, you need to improve a little” the teacher reminded them when they got to the room “you need to give your all, I need you to really give yourselves to the dance, I need you to feel it and transmit it with your movements and your expressions” they both nodded “very well, let's work”

The music started to play throughout the room and you executed your movements automatically. Your arms rose in the air and you tried to endure the little pain that it left you when you stood on your toes.

"They should feel it" you heard the teacher say "transmit it" Minho held you by the waist and lifted your body into the air for a few seconds before meeting you face to face.

His gaze was the same as always, cold with a hint of mysterious darkness, but your body shuddered for a few seconds. He held your arm and guided you with the music through his movements, you focused on continuing to dance and continued spinning and jumping.

The music continued for a while longer, they repeated the choreography a couple more times and you were grateful when someone spoke to the teacher. You went to sit in a corner to catch your breath and check your foot. You sighed in relief when you saw it was okay.

In the distance you saw how Minho lay down on the floor with his limbs stretched out and breathing heavily. You looked at him curiously but quickly undressed your gaze when you noticed that his shirt had risen a little on his abdomen and left a little skin exposed.

You felt your face turn red and you cursed yourself for it, it was just a bit of skin, nothing you hadn't seen before, but somehow it felt different as if it was something forbidden that you weren't supposed to see and yet you looked up again.

His eyes were closed and his breathing had calmed down, it seemed as if he was sleeping, his face was serene and there was no trace of that calculating look, only tranquility.

You looked down a little in fear, but when you saw his toned body something inside you stirred. He had strong arms and his abs were worked.

"I can hear your thoughts up here" you quickly looked away and focused your gaze on the floor

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Please" Minho turned to his side with one hand holding his head "I can feel your gaze on me the whole time"

"I wasn't looking at you" you said nervously trying to defend yourself. Minho smiled and stood up walking towards you

"Liar" you stood in your place feeling your nerves tickling all over your body "if you want to look at me just say it" you were going to say something to him when you saw how he lifted his shirt a little.

"Nobody wants to see you naked"

"Naked? I didn't say that" Minho made his smile bigger and you pressed yourself against the wall when he was closer "do you want to see me naked?"

"Of course not" you claimed almost screaming, feeling your face burn

You heard a laugh and looked up only to see Minho split in half laughing and… You were surprised. You had never seen him laugh like that, he seemed like another person, there was no trace of the person you hated and for a moment you stared at him.

"idiot" you said standing up, you gave him a little push when you passed by him, but he took your hand. When you turned around he wasn't laughing anymore, he was staring at you and you felt a chill

"I have something for you" he reached into one of your pants pockets and pulled out a small chocolate wrapper. You stared at him and didn't know if you should take it, but last time he made you do it so you did it fearfully with a question on the tip of your tongue.

"Why?" Minho seemed to understand and just shrugged his shoulders "why are you doing all this?" You raised your hands tired of trying to figure out his behavior "do you expect me to forgive you?"

"No"

"Then why?" You didn't want to break down in front of him again and you held back your emotions before they got out of control, but a small part of you remembered his words and you couldn't help but say them "is it because of pity?"

"No" He said raising his voice, he lowered his head and sighed heavily "it's just that…" Your eyes met for a moment, but this time it was different, you could see a little beyond the darkness and you perceived something different "I know what it feels like to be completely alone"

You were confused, you didn't know what to say, there was no answer to his words, now you only felt a great emptiness in your chest. Lee Minho, the person you always hated and envied was in front of you showing you a part of him that you didn't know.

"I…"

"Don't say anything" he interrupted you "just… take care of yourself" and so, confused and scared he left you in the middle of the dance hall with an unknown feeling in your chest.

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The days passed faster than you expected, with all the change in Minho's attitude and the fact that he didn't treat you badly anymore, the day of the competition came too soon. They hadn't stopped practicing and even though you tried to hide it, the nerves were starting to show, but you tried to hide it.

"You've worked very hard" said the teacher when she gave you a little break "but tomorrow you must give your all, mind, soul and body" you rolled your eyes, she had repeated the same thing for the last three days and you were sure of what she would say next, without paying attention to the teacher you looked away at Minho who also looked a little tired of the same thing, but when your eyes met he smiled and moved his mouth saying exactly the same thing as the teacher "you must be one" You almost spat out the water and coughed to catch your breath, but the teacher noticed it anyway. You looked at the ground trying to contain the smile on your face, even though you knew that was a stupid thing to do “okay, let’s continue”

You got into your usual position, you were ready and when the music started playing you did what you did best. Minho’s warm hand on your waist was already familiar but you still held your breath.

“You’re nervous” he said before you moved to the side to follow his steps

“Nervous? Me?” Minho took your hand and you stood on one foot on your toes as he spun you around “in the morning?”

“no” You rolled your eyes as he let go and continued dancing until you were facing him.

“I'm not nervous” Minho took you by the waist and you let your weight fall back while you stretched your arms and he held your weight with his arms, when you stood up again you found his face very close to yours

“I know you” his words distracted you for a moment and you heard the teacher's voice in the distance, you continued with the dance and when you were in front of him again you couldn't help but stay silent

“You don't know anything about me” you answered when you passed in front of him. When you placed your hands on his shoulders Minho took you by the waist and lifted you up.

“Of course I do” Minho replied as he set you down and spun you around “I know you don’t have any friends” you remained serious despite his words, but the continued “I know you live alone and apart from others out of fear” your body tensed up, but you continued moving around the room anyway

You moved away from him to do your jump and you were happy that it went perfectly, you stood still, waiting for Minho to finish the choreography and when his hands hooked around your waist you couldn’t help but tense up.

This moment was always weird, it felt like something intimate because after that he had to lean down and pretend to kiss you, even though they had never done it, he always hid your body with his and you just stayed held by his arms looking at his face.

“I know that despite everything you still pursue your dreams” he said at the end and you held your breath as you watched him get closer and closer

“Perfect” said the teacher taking you both out of the bubble in which you had been trapped for a moment “that is exactly what I want you to do tomorrow”

Minho sat up with you and you finally moved away from him. The teacher was saying something, but you were only aware of your burning body where Minho’s hands had touched you. You hated that he had that effect on you lately, it was not something normal, but you did not want to admit it.

“Well, then get some rest,” the teacher said, “you need all your energy for tomorrow.”

You hurried to grab your things and leave the room before Minho, you couldn’t keep looking at him without questioning things you didn’t want to admit and all of that was so absurd when you remembered how you had treated each other at the beginning, whatever you were starting to feel had to be a product of the pressure of the competition, you just had to wait until the next day for this to disappear.

You were about to leave the place when you stopped at the entrance when you noticed it was raining, you rolled your eyes and cursed silently as you mentally prepared yourself for the race you would make to your house, but when you were about to run someone took your hand. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, but you did anyway.

“What's wrong?”

“You're going to get wet,” Minho said seriously, still holding your hand.

“It's just a little water,” you said, trying to escape the feeling that formed in your stomach.

“You could get sick.”

“What do you want?” you asked, a little irritated and upset. “I need to get home.”

“I can take you home,” you bit your lips as you thought about his proposal. You saw the rain falling and thought about it again. Your house was far away, so you just sighed.

“Okay,” Minho seemed to smile, and before he could say anything else, he took your hand and ran to where his car was. He opened the door for you, and you got in without thinking twice. Minho got in right away, and you noticed some drops falling down his hair and some others sliding down his face.

There was something mesmerizing about watching him, and you bit your lips as he ran his fingers through his hair. You looked away, realizing that some drops had stuck to you, too. Minho's gaze rested on you for a second and you noticed how his eyes seemed to follow the trail of some drop that spilled from your forehead and passed over your lips where it was lost on your neck and under your neckline.

You shifted in your seat and when his eyes returned to yours you felt a shiver run down your spine, you couldn't understand it but you knew that he was hiding something beyond his gaze, something that you couldn't understand but that made you shudder and want to know what was beyond.

You didn't realize your labored breathing until Minho approached you putting his arm over your head and you held your breath when you felt his breath near your lips, his eyes were on yours and you could swear that time stopped, but when you saw his hand return with the seat belt something in you felt disappointed and you cursed for thinking that he would try something else, but you hated yourself a little more for thinking about something like that and not disliking the idea.

“Safety first” he said jokingly, but you just nodded, staring straight ahead as he started the car.

The ride was silent and you felt the weight of tension with every second that passed without talking, no matter how much you looked outside and tried to focus on something else your eyes always strayed to his hands holding the wheel. You needed to get out of there before your mind drifted to places you didn't want.

The rain seemed to get worse with every minute and by the time you got to your house it seemed dangerous so you invited him in thinking he would leave but now you were in the living room, silent and with nothing to talk about. You hoped everything would calm down but your insides didn't seem to want to. You were hyper aware of Minho's presence and you could even swear you could hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours, you didn't know anymore but you wanted all this to end even if it meant getting away from Minho again.

You got up to make tea and forget your thoughts. There were so many things you wanted to say, but you didn't know how to do it, you didn't know if the words would destroy the strange relationship you had built, a kind of friendship where you supported each other for a common good, although you knew that inside there was something more.

“Do you think this will stop?” his words brought you out of your thoughts and you looked up

“It has to stop” you said almost begging for it to stop, but the drops still fell heavily down the windows and didn't seem to want to go away for a long time

Silence reigned again in the small space and you took your hands determined to say something, but then Minho spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking about something” you turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow

“Wow… I didn’t know you could do that” you heard a laugh and you smiled at the sight

“I do it often, in case you were wondering”

“So… what are you thinking about?” you asked curious and nervous at the same time

“Me, you, us” you stopped what you were doing, trying to analyze if you were starting to go deaf

“Us?” you turned around again and noticed that Minho had stood up and was slowly approaching where you were

“I know I’ve been an idiot before” with each word he got closer and you tried to back away until you found yourself at the kitchen counter “maybe I still am, but now I know I’ve done things wrong” Minho was left only a few steps away from you “I’m sorry”

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it twice,” he said jokingly, but when he saw that you weren’t smiling, he repeated it without hesitation. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” you asked nervously, still stunned, not understanding his words.

“For everything, I’ve treated you badly and said things that weren’t right.” You gritted your teeth as you remembered the words that had been engraved in your mind. “The truth is, I… was jealous of you.”

“Jealousy?” Minho sighed heavily and lowered his head in shame. “What are you talking about?”

“I always saw you rehearse over and over again, I saw you give yourself completely to music without any effort, I… I can't do that and everyone kept reminding me of it, that's why every time I saw you I…” he lowered his head to catch his breath and hide the shame that all this caused him, but he got a little closer to where you were “I… wanted what you had” he raised his head again and you froze when you saw his eyes lit up by what looked like tears “I felt miserable and useless seeing all the effort you made and I could only get here with money, I know I'm not good at this and I still try, that's why I was jealous, that's why I turned everything into hate” you were frozen by his confession, the words had gotten stuck in your chest, there was nothing you could say and you just stayed trying to process everything

“I thought you… hated me” Minho let out a tired laugh

“I hated you, I hated your talent, but... hating you doesn’t serve me anymore… I can’t hate you anymore” he said ignoring you “but… all this…” he opened his mouth but it seemed like the words were stuck in his chest and he was struggling to get them out “this… absurd and useless feeling for you is killing me”

“What… are you talking about?” your voice shook with each word, your heart was agitated, you knew there was something floating in the air that you tried to ignore.

Minho sighed and looked at the ceiling, he reached his hand to your face, but stopped before doing so, as if doing so would hurt him.

“I… you…” he closed his eyes and lowered his hand, clenching his fingers into a fist “I can’t spend another second with you without my entire body wanting you, every time I see you I lose my breath, I can’t stop thinking about you, your eyes, your smile” his fingers lengthened a little and very gently caressed your cheek “everything about you drives me crazy and I can’t spend another second with this inside me”

All you could hear were the raindrops hitting the windows, the air didn't seem to be enough anymore and you could feel a pressure on your chest. You couldn't stop thinking about his words, a part of you wanted to scream at him, tell him he was lying, that it was a stupid joke, you wanted him to leave and never see him again, but there was something else, something inside you that was taking over you and you couldn't contain it.

“Minho” it was the first time you called him by his name, and he seemed to react to your voice like a scared dog “I… I don’t know what to say, this is all so confusing” you looked up at where he was “I thought you hated me, I… I hated you too, I hated the way you walked down the halls and the way you stood out everywhere… your stupid temper and the damn way you dance… you, you caught everyone with your dance and I can’t do that… but now that doesn’t matter… because I can’t hate you either, not anymore”

Everything went silent, the raindrops were a distant noise, but you could still hear your heartbeat in your chest. Minho walked to where you were and this time he didn’t stop, he took your face and looked into your eyes just like he always had, without fear and with curiosity, but now there was something else, something you had no doubts about, he looked at you with love.

“Give me one reason not to kiss you right now,” you held your breath and let go of the fear in your chest with every word he said. “Tell me to leave and that you don’t want to see me again. Ask me for anything and I will do it. Because you have my heart hanging in your hands now. It’s all yours and you can do whatever you want with it. Destroy it, mold it, design it, love it… my heart belongs to you now… and so do I.”

“Minho… please kiss me.”

It wasn’t a soft, slow kiss. It was a desperate, anxious one that reflected all of your confused and jumbled emotions inside. It was a hot kiss, full of everything you both had dragged along until now. You could feel your heart beating hard, but you ignored it and just focused on his kisses, on the way his hands seemed to tremble on your waist and the way his lips ran over every part of your mouth.

You lost yourself completely in him, you let yourself go and forgot about everything you ever questioned, there were no doubts anymore, there were no ties, there were no secrets, they were just two people who opened their hearts and now they were feeling it.

Minho's mouth was desperate, his hands slowly ran up your body, but you just wanted him to hurry up, to calm that fire inside you that had started to burn. You took his hands and placed them on your breasts without fear, you wanted him, you needed him and you didn't mind admitting it.

You moaned his name when his mouth slid down your jaw to your neck and your fingers tangled in his hair. Minho pressed his hands to your chest and you threw your head back moaning at the feeling of his hands on you. His mouth continued down to the neckline of your blouse and before he did anything he looked up with a silent question and you just nodded desperately. He put his hands underneath and got rid of your blouse, throwing it away along with your bra, freeing your breasts where his mouth settled, making you shudder.

Your hands moved down his body, touching every part of him, and you heard him let out a gasp when you touched him above his crotch. You slipped your hands under his shirt and took it off to admire his bare chest.

You stood still for a second, appreciating each other's half-naked bodies. Minho licked his lips before attacking your mouth again. His hands squeezed your ass before unbuttoning your pants, leaving a trail of kisses from your abdomen to your thighs.

Your breathing was agitated with the slightest touch of his mouth on your skin, his mouth leaving kisses on your thighs and you held your breath as you saw how his fingers hooked the edge of your panties and left you uncovered.

His hands caressed your thighs and slowly moved closer to your core where you moaned at the feel of his fingers on your wet pussy, his thumb searched for your clit and you saw him smile when you shuddered. He moved his finger slowly in circles and you could feel how you were getting wetter and wetter.

You didn't realize when your legs opened more, but when you felt Minho's mouth on you, you moaned his name holding his hair as he buried his tongue in you.

You turn your head back and let yourself be caught by the burning sensation running through your veins, his tongue on your clit makes your legs tremble, but when you feel his fingers near your entrance a shiver runs through your entire body. You look down for a moment to beg him, but before you can Minho slides a finger inside you and you moan his name.

“Minho… I…” you can’t finish the sentence, he slides another of his fingers in and curls them touching a sensitive part inside while his tongue moves over your clit. The fire inside you burned strong, you couldn’t hold it back any longer and you let it consume you completely.

Your legs were shaking and your breathing was labored when Minho stood up. He held you tightly by the waist and wore that triumphant smile on his face that you had previously hated, but now found attractive.

“Darling… you taste divine”

“Shut up” you claimed embarrassed

“Shut me up” you approached his lips and kissed him hard tasting yourself on his lips.

You pressed your body against his and felt his hardening on your belly, you stifled a moan in his mouth when Minho grabbed your legs and lifted your body.

“I'll take you right here if you don't tell me where the bed is.”

“Upstairs.” Minho didn't wait any longer and took you to your room where he left you on the bed while still kissing you as he took off his pants and boxers, leaving his cock free.

He placed himself on top of you and you stirred as you felt the tip of his cock caress your clit. Minho took his cock and placed it at your entrance, still looking at you, again with a question in his eyes.

“Min… I need you.”

Minho moved his hips slowly and you arched your back as you felt his cock stretch you and hit rock bottom. He placed his hands on either side of your head and kissed you, staying in that position for a moment, feeling your walls enveloping him.

From one moment to the next his hips moved back leaving only the tip of his cock inside and then he moved again making you moan over and over again with each thrust.

Your mouth kept saying his name, all you could feel was his body on yours and his kisses on your neck while you felt his breath on you. You had your legs around his waist and your hands around his back marking his skin with your nails with each push of his hips.

Your body was burning and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer if he continued like this, but suddenly Minho sat up and before you could say anything he took your legs and placed them on his shoulders bending you in half like a doll, but this new position made him go deeper and you moaned at the feeling.

“You should see yourself with my eyes darling… you’re magnificent”

“Minho… shut up and fuck me” you heard him let out a laugh before pushing hard and biting the inside of one of your thighs.

The new position made you feel everything more intensely and you could feel a knot in your belly that you couldn't hold back any longer, your legs trembled and Minho noticed.

“What's wrong darling?” He asked mockingly as he saw how you held the sheets and how your back was arching, you wanted to talk but the only thing that came out of you were moans of pleasure announcing your orgasm “a little more, I know you're a good girl”

His words only made you squeeze his cock tighter and that made him lose himself in his own ecstasy so he continued praising you.

“Are you going to cum around my cock?” you nodded desperately and Minho only leaned in closer to kiss you “do it… cum for me”

You obeyed him and let yourself be carried away by the pleasure that ran through your body at the same time that you felt Minho's release inside you and how it ran down your legs when he released you from his grip.

You could feel your unbridled heart beating at the same time as Minho's who was on top of you. At that moment they were one and the same and something inside you finally felt calm.

You closed your eyes and stayed that way for so long that you didn't realize you fell asleep until you opened your eyes again. Minho was next to you and his arms were around your body covered by some sheets.

"Sleep darling" you heard him say

"I don't think I can" you said snuggling into his chest hugging him back

"We have a competition to win, you better rest" he gave you a kiss on the forehead and that was enough to go back to sleep, taking away the feeling of emptiness you had before.

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your nerves could get the better of you at any moment, you kept pacing back and forth and there was nothing that could calm you down, not even the teacher's encouraging words, not Minho's compliments, not even the voice in your head. You had never been so nervous and you knew the reason.

You had decided to invite your parents at the last minute thinking they wouldn't go, but when they said they would give you a chance everything inside you went off the rails. This could be a new beginning for your relationship if everything went well or maybe things could end up the same, anyway, it was too late to regret it.

Minho was serious, he was worried about your condition and he was afraid you would have an anxiety attack, so he was behind you all the time, but that only made you more nervous.

“Stop that” you said turning around and facing him

“I’m not doing anything”

“You’re following me” you said raising your voice, making the people around you look in your direction for a moment “I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, you’re nervous”

“Of course I’m nervous” you bit your nails to keep from crying, but Minho took your hands and you looked up into his eyes.

“Just breathe a little” you took a breath and your chest seemed to calm down a little “that’s it… everything will be okay okay?” you nodded not very sure of his words “we’ll go in there and the world will go to shit, it’ll just be you and me… okay?”

“Yes” You approached to kiss him, but you saw the teacher in the distance and you moved away from Minho as far as you could without knowing why

“It's your turn” the nerves returned to your body, but you tried to smile when the teacher pushed them close to the curtain, where the other people waited and watched the couple's presentation on stage “you are the best, you know it” said the teacher when the lights went out and left the stage free “prove it”

You closed your eyes for a moment trying to leave everything behind, as you always did when you danced, until you felt a hand take yours to move forward. You opened your eyes to look at Minho, his gaze was no longer cold or calculating as before, now it was warm and loving, you were no longer alone.

You walked forward together to the stage and got into position, you felt the thousands of eyes on you, but there were only a few that mattered to you and were in front of you.

“Let’s do this” you heard him say before the music started and everything around you stopped mattering.

You gave yourself completely to the music, all your movements synchronized with Minho’s and for the first time you understood the teacher’s words. Together you danced and gave your body, mind and soul to the stage, you let yourself be carried away by the melody and you felt your body flow with ease, with every jump you made, every movement, every turn, everything was perfect.

You could only hear your heartbeat, the music had long since gone, and the looks of the people no longer mattered, you could only focus on bright eyes full of love and desire.

Minho took you by the waist and lifted you up before leaning over you to finish the choreography, but this time you didn’t stop him from coming closer, you didn’t move away and you took his face and kissed him at the same time that the lights went out and the applause resonated throughout the theater.

“I love you” you heard him say and that was all you heard.

You knew someone would see them if they just opened the door, but you didn't care. His mouth was fiercely devouring yours as you held onto the small table in the place where they had decided to hide. His kisses were leaving you breathless, but you continued to taste his lips.

You felt the fire run through your veins and you let out a small moan when his hands ran down your bare legs until they squeezed your thighs.

"Min…" you moaned in his ear as his mouth slid down your jaw to your neck.

"Give me a reason not to rip your clothes off right now" he said running his hands down your wet center and you shuddered at the feel. You looked into his eyes for a moment

"Do it"

Minho ripped off your clothes and touched you with his fingers, the adrenaline from the dance was still running through your body and it excited you to think that someone could come in and see them, but the excitement after finishing their performance was so much that they ran to the first dressing room they found to get naked.

You moaned when his fingers touched your center and found your clit, his mouth fiercely attacked your neck and you felt his teeth on your skin, but you didn't need that, you wanted to feel him inside you.

Desperate, you pushed him away a little and Minho looked at you surprised when you pushed him to the small sofa that was there while you moved forward and took off the rest of your clothes, at the same time he did the same.

You climbed onto his lap and took him by the shoulders moving your hips feeling his cock on your wet pussy. Minho threw his head back and grabbed your thighs.

“Shit, Darling…” you didn’t let him finish his sentence as you grabbed his cock and sank down on it making him moan “someone… might see us”

“Then you better do this quickly” you said agitatedly moving your hips up and down marking the rhythm.

Minho grabbed your thighs and squeezed your skin tightly as he felt you bounce on him over and over again, he couldn't stop himself from kissing your breasts and biting your nipples to hear your own moans.

You were so immersed in each other that you had forgotten about everything that was happening outside the doors until after a while you stopped moving out of exhaustion, but Minho grabbed your hips and moved his up to continue until you felt your insides heat up from Minho's release.

You collapsed on his chest and smiled as you heard his heartbeat as he caressed your hair. Everything was calm and quiet until you heard your names over the speakers in the place.

“Did we win?” you asked bewildered hearing the applause of the people “we should go”

“Maybe” he said when you looked up and tried to move, but he held you back “but everything I care about is here”

“You're a fucking romantic”

“And you love it”

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

EPILOGUE

"Don't you dare open your eyes" you heard Minho say as he led you through who knows where, nerves running through your body and you didn't know what he had in store but you were sure it wouldn't top your anniversary gift.

"I'm scared" you confessed with a nervous laugh

"Do you trust me?"

"No" Minho let go of your hands and you searched for him until his hands took your waist and made you move forward a little more between laughs

"You lie"

"Maybe" you felt a warm kiss on your temple and his hands leaving your body

"Wait here" he said before you heard his steps walk away

"No… Minho" you stood still for a moment until the nerves took over you and made you restless "Minho, this is not funny" with labored breathing you took off the blindfold from your eyes but you couldn't see anything, it was dark "Minho… I swear I'm going to…"

Suddenly the lights turned on and you held your breath when your vision adjusted to the place. Your eyes filled with tears when you saw Minho coming towards you again.

"Happy wedding anniversary"

"But… what is this?" you asked as he handed you some keys

"It's what you asked for" he said hugging you "your own dance studio, here you can dance, show others your incredible talent, it's all yours"

You couldn't hold back your tears any longer and hugged him back burying your face in his neck.

"Don't cry darling, it will ruin your makeup" you laughed a little before wiping your tears and hitting him in the chest

"I hate you"

"I love you too" he said before kissing you in the same place where you met.

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

IF YOU LIKE IT PLEASE REBLOG

-> @cultofdionysusnet

Tag list: @zuuhaaa @T.leeknowsaurus @lilol @kissesmellow21  @melanctton @queenmea604

Divider: @fairytopea

[i-hate-peas]

The Old Guard Fic Recs

So I've been a long time lurker within the fandom without ever getting particularly involved, but I wanted to show some appreciation for some of the super talented people who go here, because I have read a lot of incredible TOG fic.

Most (probably all) of these authors have loads of other amazing fics, but I've tried to just chose one from each, to keep the list a vaguely reasonable length. Although then I cheated and did some honourable mentions.

** just a note to say I started this list year (s) ago and forgot about it until literally today when I saw fic recs going round. Any of these fics I haven’t put a description for it’s because I didn’t do it at the time, and if I go back to reread them all this would never be posted, not through any lack of affection or enjoyment **

If any writers want tagging/ untagging etc please let me know! (i knew/ could find some blogs more easily than others lol)

Within Canon

Old Olives by aeli_kindara

Garden of Gethsemane mention = instant tears

Death in Her Hands by superblackmarket

Nile's growing relationship with Joe and Nicky. All of their fics are so beautifully written, but I especially love Nile's relationship with the boys and her facing her own immortality.

Honourable mention: Station to Station

Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (@hauntedfalcon)

Andy! Nile!

Ouroboros by CypressSunn (@cypresssunns)

Set after the film, literally just read it.

compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R

A pair of early days Joe Nicky fics that reminds me of 'my wife is a bitch and i love her so much'

let's give them something to talk about by lacecat

When The Cherries White With Blossoms, Be Ready & Be Brave by chapstickaddict

Unearthed by merle_p

I think this is one of the most kudosed fics in the AO3 tag, but it deserves the hype!

Kidnapping for Dummies by Amiril

Similar to above, already very popular, but great and very funny!

The Last Man on Earth by Survivah (@optimismology)

I will admit I don't normally go for Booker/Nile, but this fic sold it to me. Looking at them and their developing relationship as the newer immortals.

Canon Divergent

Retrograde by Pinkninja

I mean this fic is the Big Bitch of the fandom for me, if you haven't already read this, where have you been? But also if you haven't already read this I am so jealous, read it and take your time with it and bawl your eyes out over it and appreciate the joy of reading it for the first time. The level of detail and planning in this fic is indescribable. It follows Nicky trapped in a Time Travellers Wife style life where he jumps back and forth throughout his own timeline, whilst Joe lives his life in chronological order. Exquisitely written.

If Never Again, If Every Day by gallifreyburning and takiki16 (@gallifreyburning, @takiki16)

Another absolute Titan of the genre. I know you’ve already been recommended this 500 times, what more can I say.

though I'm dying to (fall in love with you) by yusufsmoon (@babygirlyusuf)

Travellers from an Antique Land by kaydeefalls (@kaydeefalls)

Andy, not Quỳnh, trapped under the sea. I love all their fics.

AUs

Makes Me Want You More by Sixthlight (@sixth-light)

Perhaps not the typical favourite choice from Sixthlight, one of my absolute favourite TOG authors, but one that is funny and lovely and sweet that I keep coming back to. Shorter than many of theirs but perfectly formed.

pumpkin gnocci verse (series) by Liadan14 (@bewires)

I mean it's got estranged family, suspenseful chronological structure, cooking, spies, intimate and honest sex scenes, hilarious misunderstandings involving keeping halal, lovely found family moments, and the actual recipes used. What more do you want.

The Reality of Everything by Marbletopempire

One of the fics I desperately waited for each instalment for. Very funny, lots of sexual tension, plenty of Cate Blanchette spotting opportunities.

sine qua non by mellyflori (@werebearbearbar)

One of the first of their fics I read, with a very sweet build up of misunderstanding to friends to lovers, involving growing up, discovering sexuality, trying to be nice about your best friend's bad boyfriend, and a long suffering sofa.

The Brooklyn Verse (series) by GayLittleEarring, yusufsmoon, nicelytousled (@marwankenzarisgaylittleearring @babygirlyusuf @nicelytousled)

I saw the creation of this on Tumblr before it was a fic, and it lived up to every expectation. Very sweet and sincere, with lots of great discussions about art, whilst also very funny (Lamp the free loader, Joe sending thirst traps out of irritation) and hot. ItalianAmericanNickyfromBrooklyn and Joe my beloveds.

a good (eighth) impression by deaniker

I love a good hook-up to 'oh shit I have feelings' fic, and this is even more entertaining because Nicky is Lykon's ex, and Joe has very much seen him at his worst.

You do not have to be good by emjee (MerryHeart) (@emjee)

At one point a tumblr post about Joe the Professor and Nicky the Priest got very popular, and I'm not sure if this fic was inspired by that, but is one of the great fics with similar concepts. Such a lovely, gentle fic about love and also identity, featuring also Nile and a very sweet snail.

it's such an almighty sound (series) by raedear (@raedear)

A secret service AU that goes full enemies to lovers, with lots of tension, plotting, betrayal, frustration, and tenderness.

Honourable mention: take my hand (you got me rockin' and rollin')

fight 'til the day that i die 'verse by incurableromancer

Suspenseful, noir, super hero AU that has such a great writing style and is very atmospheric.

if you do take a thief by knoepfchen (@knoepfchen)

Cluedo style AU with lots of fun twists and slow building of backstories, with the whole gang.

Honourable mention: life is not the things that we do (it's who we're doing them with)