#this is written like a joke but i'm also like. we're really doing this in the dragon age fandom? in 2024?

[yellowocaballero]

i see you reblogging aa, is this a sign an ace attorney fic is on the horizon 👀

I resign myself to the fact that any reblogging spree of one work inevitably results in people in my inbox asking if I'm currently writing fanfic about it. I can't complain, because the answer is usually yes absolutely of course I am.

I will say that the Great Phoenix Wright Trilogy Playthrough Of 2024 was this summer! It was very much a tether to sanity and I'm very grateful towards @lazuliquetzal for letting me watch her play and for making the experience so much fun. A very intricate bedrock of lore/in-jokes developed. Edgeworth thinks he discovered homosexuality and younger sister figures are mandatory in a court of law. We found it extremely well-written, very funny, and really interesting in character dynamics. I also got her to play Ghost Trick, which was awesome as usual. We're currently both obsessing about different things - and my fanfic to-do list is already VERY long - so no fanfic is actually in the works right now.

Of course I've already written some, who do you take me for. I wrote this just for us, so it's unfinished and rife with our in-jokes, but somewhat shockingly it probably has the densest joke-to-word ratio that I've ever written. Sometimes I want to continue writing something, but I look at it and I'm like, 'This is too good. I can't keep up this level of good. I can't reach this high again'. The short fanfic - sourced from our recurring jokes/efforts to figure out [SPOILERS FOR ACEATT3] how blind Godot is exactly, and what I would have found the most interesting - is, believe it or not, too good to keep writing.

Zany fanfic and spoilers for Ace Attorney 3 under the cut.

           As it turned out, there was a prosecutor’s lounge.

           Like a lot of Phoenix’s least favorite facts, it was both obvious in retrospect and deeply disturbing. The defendant’s lounge had an obvious purpose: confer with your client, beg them to tell you simple facts that would determine if they were sentenced to death via electric chair, let your coworkers blow off steam by making fun of you. Gumshoe is useful at the least useful second. None of these banal and extraordinarily stressful events had anything to do with a prosecutor.

           That was why Edgeworth had always wandered into the defendant’s lounge and made vague yet affectionate threats at Phoenix. If he had his own sterile room to stand around awkwardly, he surely would have done so. This felt so obvious it ought to have gone without saying. There couldn’t, like, actually be a real lounge. That would imply a lot of things about Edgeworth’s choices. 

As a result, when Gumshoe tossed Phoenix the updated coroner’s report and asked him to run it to the prosecutor’s lounge, Phoenix’s first instinct was to contemplate suicide. His only remaining link to sanity was the knowledge that running Gumshoe’s errands to an imaginary room was better than the alternative of staying here.

           Much better. Gumshoe was looking at Maggey, Maggey was refusing to look at Gumshoe, Phoenix wanted to be nowhere near any of this, and he was taking the out. Gumshoe might as well have asked him to go check if his refrigerator was running. Call him a mechanic, because he grabbed both Maya and Pearl and high-tailed it out of there.

           He had to ask for directions three different times before he even found the place. It was a place that could be found. In real life. Phoenix better go catch his fucking refrigerator!

It was also right next door to the defendant’s lounge. Had this really been here the entire time? Could Phoenix have been wandering into Edgeworth’s lobby and making vague yet affectionate threats at him? He could have even stood in front of the door and blocked Edgeworth’s ritualistic escape from his feelings. His was a life of missed opportunities.

           “I bet they have free coffee,” Maya said grimly. “I bet they have tacos.”

           “With free avocados,” Phoenix intoned. “As much as they want. Maybe caviar.”

           Pearl blasted her large and doleful eyes up at Nick. “Why don’t you put avocados on the tacos you make for us? I love them…”

           Poverty, but he couldn’t tell her that. Nick settled for patting her on the head. “Avocados are as immoral as the prosecutors themselves, Pearly. It’s a matter of ethics.”

           “Ethics are so overrated,” Maya said mournfully, kicking the doors open. “Let’s go evil, Nick. For the sake of the children.”

           The cops inside did not appreciate Maya’s dynamic entry, but nobody ever did. Disappointingly, the prosecutor’s lounge was identical to the defendant’s one – down to the cops, cheap sofa, and ugly-ass art. The only difference was – son of a bitch, they did have coffee!

           Entirely possible that Godot refused to step foot inside the courthouse unless they installed a coffee machine. But it was the principle of the thing, goddamn it! Nobody ever cared about Phoenix’s hunger strikes!

           Potentially entirely due to coffee, Godot was sitting on the scratchy sofa with his head tilted back and one earbud in his ear. Its cord snaked onto the cushions of the couch, attacked to some small black media player. Was he awake? Was he asleep? Was he dead? If they were really quiet, would he sleep through the trial and leave Phoenix to win by default –

           “They have a chartreuse board!” Maya screeched. “Those rat bastards!”

           Pearl gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Is that sushi? Free sushi!? I love sushi!”

           “Get my purse, Pearl-chan! Grab much as you can!”

           “So it’s hereditary,” Godot growled. Phoenix winced, instinctively checking for coffee cups in his vicinity. The familiar cheap coffee table seemingly only had one, but on closer look Nick could tell that they were carefully stacked into each other. How tidy! “How did you even know this place existed, Trite?”

           One of these days Phoenix was going to start pronouncing his name “guh-dot”. That would show him. He hadn’t mustered the courage yet, but one of these days! “How could I not know it existed?” Poker face, Phoenix. Look condescending. Evoke Edgeworth. Show him what’s what. Literally nobody else you know is scared of him, therefore you are not scared of him, we are manifesting absolute zen in the face of the tallest man Phoenix had ever met in his life. He was sitting down. This shouldn’t be hard. “It’s right next to the defendant’s lounge, how could we miss it?”

           “Is that so?” Godot slowly leaned forward, like a great beast awakening from a mighty slumber. His movements were stiff and disjointed, like a fat bear waking from hibernation. “The spotlight of truth must be like a floodlight to the most enlightened defense lawyers. Illuminating all. Hiding nothing. But shadows cling to the undersides of society, and true darkness lurking underneath the charcuterie board –“

           “I have the updated coroner’s report,” Phoenix said, flapping the envelope loosely. “Gumshoe wanted you to have the other copy.”

           “Yeah, give it here.”

           “If the charcuterie board is evil don’t tell me.” Maya was plowing through a hunk of goat cheese like a rabid coyote. “I don’t wanna know. None of my business. Put the wasabi in my coin purse, Pearl-chan.”

           There was something inherently evil about having a cheeseboard at the workplace, but the legal system couldn’t get much worse. Godot didn’t stand up from the couch – he just thrust out a hand, making shockingly childish little grabby hands, forcing Phoenix to cross the entire room and put it in his hands. Pearl ran up to Phoenix and helpfully smeared wasabi on his hand.

           Godot took the coroner’s report and dropped it on the table. He leaned back, reaffixing his earbud in his ear. “Charmed. Clean us out of the nori, girls, it’s Payne’s favorite and I want him to experience suffering.”

           Pearl helpfully tugged at Phoenix’s sleeve, dying it a light green. If he lost this case because the judge thought he smelled bad… “Can you pour me the last of the coffee, Mr. Nick? I wanna be a big girl and do it for me but the big jug is too heavy.”

           “Are you kidding? You’re way too young for coffee.” The last thing they needed was a nine year old bouncing off the walls. In a courtroom. During a murder case. Phoenix turned to Godot, who was biting his tongue and barely restraining himself from cursing out a nine year old. Was that blood? “You’ll want to take a look at that, Mr. Godot. There’s a new piece of evidence that could change everything.”

           “Save the dramatics for the courtroom.” Godot leaned back again, waving his hand absently. Yeah, that was definitely blood on his yellowed teeth. Phoenix had to admire the restraint. “What’s this new tidbit that’s so important, then?”

           Was he everyone’s errand boy? “The report’s right there, read it yourself.”

           “Seems like I was correct in pegging you as the lazy type, Trite. Look at you refusing to do a simple task.”

           Pearl made an ‘ooo’ing noise behind her hands. Maya broke a cracker in half, giving her the smaller piece. “Don’t say that world, Pearl-chan.”

           “What wo –“

           “You can’t insult me into doing the most basic aspect of your job. You read it.”

           “I’m a busy man. I’m hard at work actually making justice.” But he was sleeping?! “Defense attorneys clearly have nothing better to do than eat our precious cheeses. Show me that you can do the most basic element of the job.”

           Talk about a turnabout! This man had cranked the hostility meter up towards eleven and broke the knob off. Francizka had spent most of a year almost gnawing his face off, but she had never made Phoenix feel so specially hated. “Sorry, Godot, I’m not falling for it. But you’ll definitely want to read the report yourself. It has essential information for the trial in literally five minutes.”

           “If it’s so important than why did we give it to him at all?” Maya garbled, spewing pita chips everywhere. “We could have hid it and won this case!”

           “Because that’s unethical –“

           “You never let anything go! You and your silly ethics –“

           “Silly?!”

           Godot leaned forward and swept his hand over the table with incredibly unnecessary drama. He swept the folder into his hands, yanking the crumpled police report out. He ostentatiously snapped the paper and held it up to his visor, reading it closely. He nodded several times. He even hummed once.

           Finally, Godot straightened and tossed the report on the table. “Boring! So much for crucial evidence. You’re looking at the shadows in the cave and calling them innocent of heinous crimes, Mr. Trite. Turn away from illusions and overcome your cowardice by entering the deepest depths of Plato’s cave, facing your inner demons and reckoning with the truth of –“

           “Boring?” Phoenix cried. “The window for the potential time of the murder is completely different than we thought? And I’m the one living in a fantasy land?”

           Godot stared at him. “Really?” Phoenix made a garbled noise of outrage. Godot ignored him. “What’s the new window, then?”

           “Read it yourself!”

           “Hm.” Godot angled his head to the side, facing away from Phoenix. “Hey, little girl. I bet you can’t read.”

           Going for the throat?! Pearl clearly didn’t know whether or not to puff herself up in indignation or start crying. “I am such a good reader!!!!”

           “Really? Prove it.” Godot picked up the crumpled page and wave it at her. “Or are you a liar?”

           “Being a liar is for bad girls! I am a very good girl!” Pearl reached up on her tip-toes and nabbed the paper out of Godot’s hands. She scanned the page seriously, eyebrows furrowed. “Here! Right here! The new time of death is –“

           “Are you making a nine year old read a coroner’s report?!”

           Maya slurped slivers of ginger with pitying eyes. “She channels the dead, Nick.”

           “And that’s the time,” Pearl finished smugly. Phoenix hadn’t even heard her say it. She held out the papers to Godot again, who ignored her. “Now you know the time, because I am such a good reader.”

           “You’re a diamond in the rough, kid,” Godot told her seriously. “Never let these dullards dull your shine.”

           “My name’s not Diamond,” Pearl informed him, equally seriously. “It is Pearl Fey. Don’t feel bad. It’s a very common mistake.”

           “I don’t make mistakes, kid. I’m just one step ahead of reality. Count on it.”

           “You don’t have to be prideful, Mr. Godot.” Pearl smiled brightly and encouragingly at him, as if she was trying to connive a pit bull into a doing a trick. “It’s okay if you aren’t a good reader. Or if you aren’t a good speller. I’m a bad speller but that doesn’t make me a bad reader. Being a bad speller has nothing to do with being a good reader. I am a piece of decisive evidence about that.”

           Maya looked grimly at Phoenix, who was contemplating suicide again. “We’re ruined her vocabulary.”

           “We let her sit in during murder cases, Maya.”

           “And it’s ruined her vocabulary.”

           “What’s ruined your brain?”

           “Do you need me to read more things for you?” Pearl asked sweetly. “I like practicing my reading. I’m always practicing with Mr. Nick’s court records. They’re lots of fun and very educational. I can read ‘five counts of manslaughter’ very well. Do you want to see me spell it?”

           Godot looked at Maya. He looked at the coffee table, where the papers were not. He looked contemplative, maybe. Finally, he said, “How are you at serving coffee?”

           “If the jug is medium sized I can be very good at it!”

           “You’re hired.”

           Alright, that was enough. Phoenix had a lot of responsibilities, but his responsibility to Maya and Pearl came before every single one. That conviction had been put to test during that awful Engarde case. Phoenix almost sacrificed his integrity as a lawyer for Maya’s sake - he was not going to lose it now!

           “Absolutely not,” Phoenix said. It didn’t matter how insanely tall this guy was. Phoenix was taking a stand - right here, right now. Granted, the stand would go to his shoulder, but it was the conviction that counted! “Child labor is against the law, and her legal guardian does not give consent for this.” Phoenix made dangerous eyes at a cowed Maya, just to reaffirm that her legal guardian was not giving consent. “Don’t you have your own co-counsel? Make them do your chores, and stop stealing mine!”

           “I wasn’t planning on paying her,” Godot said affably. “That’s a violation of child labor laws, you know.”

           Maya appeared to be seriously considering his proposal. Which shouldn’t have been a big deal, but please refer back to the legal guardian wrinkle in this case. “I don’t know, Nick. Don’t you think it’s time Pearl flew out from underneath your shadow? It’s not exactly as if you pay me either.”

           “You’ll get paid when you do something helpful that gets me paid,” Phoenix said instantly. Maya glumly accepted this reality. “There’s no paycheck in moral support, Maya. Godot can use his own co-counsel –“

           “I don’t have a co-counsel,” Godot said. “Do I look like I’ve received an ounce of moral support in the last four years? Of kindness? Hell has no comradeship.”

           Phoenix flapped a hand. “Yeah, whatever. Your plucky imouto, co-counsel, whatever. Just get her to do it.”

           For the first time, Godot actually gave him a baffled look. Maybe. It was insanely hard to tell. “What would I do with a – younger sister, is it?”

           Everybody froze. You could have heard a penny drop. Maya and Pearl’s eyes practically goggled out of their heads.

           Godot just stood there, ignoring Pearl and Maya but clearly unsettled by the silence. “Cream and sugar undercuts the delectable bitterness of the black coffee. A life without siblings is a satisfyingly dark roast.”

           Slowly, Phoenix said, “I’m sorry. You’re a lawyer with no plucky female sidekick?”

           “I’ve had kouhai,” Godot said defensively. “I have a certain talent for mentorship –“

           “Mentorship? What makes you think you’re qualified to give any sort of mentorship? You’re a rookie!” Phoenix said the word ‘rookie’ like how Edgeworth said ‘polyester’, which was deeply satisfying. “And haven’t you lost every case you’ve ever taken?”

           Maya looked close to tears. “No wonder he’s such an awful lawyer…he doesn’t have a single imouto.”

           “Is that the ‘hell’ Mr. Godot talks about?” Pearl asked, voice wavering. “A world with no women?”

           “You’re projecting,” Godot snapped. “Just because you’re surrounded by teenage girls all day doesn’t mean any other lawyer is obligated to do the same.”

           “Any good lawyer. Why do you think Edgeworth has an imouto.” The thought of Edgeworth with no Franciska to hone his…edge…how sad. “And Franciska has Edgeworth as an imouto. This is law one-oh-one, Godot.” Phoenix propped his hands on his hips, grinning. “Hah! No wonder you can’t beat me! You don’t know the first thing about law, do you?”

           “And he can’t read,” Maya said sadly. “Maybe Mr. Godot isn’t exaggerating when he tells us how sad and pathetic he is…”

           “You thought he was exaggerating?”

           The tragic sight of the thoroughly baffled man clearly tugged at Pearl’s heartstrings, but she quickly found her resolve too. She rolled up her sleeves, as if they were at the office and she was ready to attack Phoenix’s toilet with a scrub brush. Once she had almost fallen in. “That does it! If Mr. Godot doesn’t have an imouto, then I’ll - ”

           “Nope. His problem, not ours.” Frankly, Phoenix was just trash talking a little. If you pretended Edgeworth and Franciska didn’t exist – impossible for Phoenix, but he could stretch his imagination – then Godot was a pretty good lawyer. To be a pretty good lawyer without the massive handicap of no young girl…Phoenix better stop giving the competition a hand like this. “Come on, the security guard’s started glaring at us again. It’s definitely time to start the trial.”

           “Your face will freeze like that, you know,” Pearl seriously told the security guard. He didn’t visibly react to her words at all. Maybe Pearl was onto something… “Mr. Nick, I have a duty to my fellow man -”

           “You can practice your reading with picture books, like a normal kid.” Pearl indignantly opened her mouth, doubtlessly about to launch into a meandering and breathless rant about her favorite Newberry Award winning children’s book author. “In English, not Japanese. Reading in English is your problem. At this rate you’re going to know how to read legalese and nothing else.” Phoenix yanked open the door, shepherding both girls out. Maya quickly stuffed more California rolls in her sleeve. “Bad enough Maya’s neglecting – Jesus Christ!”

           “You can’t give me a hard time about that,” Maya said reproachfully. “I’m Shinto.”

           Obviously, goddamn Gumshoe was at the door, one fist raised and clearly about to knock. His fist fell at the exact moment that Phoenix opened the door, and Phoenix only barely avoided a royal smack on the head by via Gumshoe’s meaty fist. He really couldn’t afford another concussion at this rate! CTE was a very serious brain disorder!

           “Mr. Wright! Hey, I thought I’d find you here! Right underneath my fist too! How’s that for some detective work, huh!” Gumshoe laughed uproariously, as if his crush wasn’t about to board her kayak and start doing the death row. And as if he hadn’t told Phoenix to go here. “Well, enough playing around! It’s time to get back to it! There’s no excuse for slacking off when Maggey’s life is on the line, you know!”

           “You’re the one who sent me on an errand!” Phoenix snapped. He shut the door tightly behind him. The last thing he needed was Godot adding his two cents. Or, knowing his wordiness, his two dollars. And change. “Did you forget telling me to give Godot the coroner’s report? It was five minutes ago!”

           “What? Why would I do that?” Gumshoe paused a second, creaky and rusty gears churning in his brain. Maya made demonstrative kissy noises. “Oh, yeah! Did you read it out to him?”

           Phoenix was going to have a fucking aneurysm. “Is there some reason why Prosecutor Godot is incapable of doing his own work? I’m already doing half the prosecutor’s job in the courtroom anyway!”

           “Some reason? Uh, yeah.” Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly as if he can read the thing, you know.”

           “Oh my god,” Maya whispered, “he really can’t read.”

           Pearl’s eyes were brimming with tears. “A lawyer who can’t read…he’s so brave!”

           “Brave is one word for it,” Phoenix said flatly. How could he have ever been scared of this guy? No imouto, no literacy…the only thing impressive about him was how he’d even gotten this far. “It’s not my problem if Godot dropped out of fourth grade. He’s giving me enough problems, tell him to solve his own.”

           For some reason, Gumshoe outright glared at Phoenix. Phoenix was getting used to his misplaced ire over Xirneohp, but what did Maggey have to do with this? If anything, he should be thanking Phoenix for refusing to help the competition. “That’s out of line, pal! Haven’t you heard of basic human decency?”

           “In a courtroom? No.”

           “He’s got you there,” Maya said wisely. “When Nick’s putting the ‘Nick’ in ‘panicked’, then he can do some pretty sketchy stuff –“

           “And you call me the narc?!”

           “The courtroom doesn’t matter.” Gumshoe was still scowling at Phoenix. Of course it’s only Phoenix who gets treated like this. Edgeworth insults Gumshoe all day and he’s still his biggest fan. “I told you specifically to read out the autopsy report so Prosecutor Godot could record it into his PDA. Then he always labels it with that funny little label maker of his. You gotta get your ears cleaned out, pal.”

           Phoenix turned to Maya and Pearl, silently pleading for backup. Gumshoe was making Phoenix doubt his own sanity. Normally he just made Phoenix think he was losing it.

           But Maya just looked tragically disappointed in him. “Nick…you didn’t even let Godot label it with his funny little label maker?”

           Desperately, Phoenix rounded on Pearl. He was ready to fake tears. But Pearl just looked ready to whale on him with her little fists. “How could you, Mr. Nick? I didn’t get to see Mr. Godot’s cassette recorder! I’ve always wanted to touch one!”

           “Ah, Prosecutor Godot’s things are always super fun to touch!” At least Gumshoe looked sufficiently cheered up. “His bumpy labels make no sense to me, but I think they’re super cool. Like a secret code or something. But Prosecutor Godot always dumps coffee on my head when I mess around with them…makes me put ‘em back in order, then he says I’m doing it wrong, and…I won’t say I miss the whip, but prosecutors can be so rough sometimes.”

           Wait. Hold on a minute. Several different small pieces clicked into place, and Phoenix’s familiar trusty intuition began to churn its gears. Phoenix raised one finger, and Gumshoe instinctively ducked. “Detective…that label maker wouldn’t happen to be a Braille label maker, would it?”

           Gumshoe brightened, nodding voraciously. Then he apparently remembered he was angry at Phoenix, and started scowling instead. “Yeah, that’s what he called it! And I’ve just caught ya in a contradiction, pal! You said I didn’t tell you about the bumpy label maker. But you obviously knew what it was, didn’t you? You really were lacking human decency on purpose, weren’t you!”

           Cool. Phoenix wished he was dead.

  Both girls looked at Phoenix immediately, correctly deducing the return of his consistent suicidality but uncertain of the cause. Phoenix pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. “Braille is an alphabet for the blind. You read it by feeling little bumps with your fingers. Apparently Prosecutor Godot is some level of blind. And apparently nobody saw fit to tell us this.”

“Did we gotta?” Gumshoe asked blankly. “Mr. Godot doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Yes, you gotta! Now I look like some kind of - you know!”

Sure enough, Maya was giving him the most judgmental look he’d ever seen. Her face when full-ass adult Maximillian admitted that he had asked a sixteen year old to marry him was nothing in comparison. “You were bullying the blind, Nick? I can’t believe you!”

What was it, bully Phoenix for something that was not his fault week? “It’s his fault for not saying anything -”

“Victim blaming?!”

“I thought he was just being an as - jerk again! It’s not exactly out of character!”

“Ableism,” Maya denounced. Phoenix drooped. “I can’t believe it. I expected better from you, Nick.”

“I’m literally ADHD, don’t give me this -”

“Who isn’t autistic?” Maya said frankly. “That doesn’t count.”

“Plenty of people in this world are neurotypical, Maya.” 

He’d had to explain this multiple times. Sometimes she even made him doubt himself. It wasn’t as if he knew neurotypical people. The people in Phoenix’s life either knew they were neurodivergent or thought that normal people were the freak. Most fell into the later category. Unfortunately. Lana wasn’t winning sister of the year, but Ema’s diagnosis and Ritalin prescription was probably his sole link to sanity during that case. Phoenix had a conspiracy theory that Gumshoe plus Ritalin would produce a shockingly competent person. Like everybody else on the prosecutor’s side, he had no idea.

There was no way Edgeworth knew he was autistic, but Phoenix was softening him up for the revelation. He had to take it slow. Couldn’t afford for him to run off to the Philippines to find himself and then come home acting as if he invented autism. Again. Like he did with homosexuality. Shut up about the German discotheques, Edgeworth!

“Mr. Godot is blind?” Pearl gasped. Horrifically, Phoenix was relieved that she knew what blind people were. “Is that why he couldn’t read? And you made fun of him! That’s bullying, Mr. Nick!”

This was a thousand times worse coming from Pearl. “I wouldn’t say I made fun of him,” Phoenix said evasively. “If anything, I really think he’s been bullying me.” This did not impress Maya and Pearl, who somehow only looked more disappointed in him. Phoenix began to sweat. “I got nothing against the disabled, guys. They’re - like, they’re fine! Some of my best friends are -”

“Autism doesn’t count,” Maya said frostily. “You’ll never get your Disability Awareness and Inclusion Girl Scout badge at this rate, Nick.”

“I - am I a nine year old girl now? Seriously?”

Pearl straightened, eyes widening. “I’m a nine year old girl!” Phoenix gestured towards her, emphasizing the handful of differences between them. Gumshoe nodded vigorously. “Can I get a disability aware badge? I’m aware of disabled people!” Left unsaid: unlike Phoenix, apparently. Yet another difference between him and nine year old girls.

“You aren’t a Girl Scout,” Phoenix said, exhausted. “If that’s something you’re interested in, we can sign you up -”

“Girl Scouts! That’s a great idea. I was a Girl Scout way back when. It was awfully rewarding.” Gumshoe gave Pearl a big thumbs up, as if he hadn’t casually dropped the most insane bomb of all time and promptly moved on. “You’re probably overqualified for the Legal Expert and Fortune Teller badges. You could really make it!”

That was it. They had lost her. Pearl rolled her sleeves up, puffing out her chest with pride, and before Phoenix could react she had already turned around and pushed the lobby doors open. They swung open with a theatrical flair, revealing -

Godot, just on the other side of the doors. Judging by his somewhat harried look and unbalanced stance, he had also just barely managed to avoid door-to-face impact. Or, more likely, door-to-visor impact. 

Pearl either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She jabbed a finger at Godot, who still seemed dazed from the unintentional assault. “I’m taking your case, Mr. Godot! I’ll be your co-counsel! I’ll find you innocent of all charges - um, not that!”

“I lost all innocence a long time ago,” Godot said darkly. He pushed past them, flagrantly brushing off everybody. “If you wish to scout for something, scout for that. It ought to distract you from standing around and wasting time with meaningless gossip.”

Phoenix winced. He didn’t seem very happy. But he never really did - cheerful and amused, frequently, but almost never actually happy. “Uh, hey, man. I’m really sorry about - in my defense, you were actively hiding it -”

“Classic defense attorney,” Maya announced. “Always defending himself!”

“Mr. Edgeworth says that the attorney who represents himself has a fool for a client,” Pearl said helpfully, blissfully unaware of that one time Phoenix had to defend himself against a murder charge. Edgeworth had known. Obviously. 

“Save your pity, Trite. Save it for the courtroom. So you can pity yourself.” Godot held up one hand, not even bothering to aim it in Phoenix’s direction. “Out of all of your victims, of course you would pity yourself the most.”

“Dude,” Phoenix said, “did I, like, ghost you the morning after or something? I’m sorry about it, but becoming a lawyer because I didn’t text you back is a little weird.”

“A little weird?” Gumshoe said, baffled. “That’s a crazy accusation, Wright. Who would become a whole lawyer because of a guy?” Phoenix looked at the ceiling. Godot coughed. “I don’t like the sound of that cough, pal.”

“For whom does the bell toll, Detective?” Godot said. Maya looked actively distressed as she attempted and failed to decipher what the fuck he meant by that. “I’ll see you all in court. Prepare yourselves. I don’t intend on losing to the likes of you.”

He turned on his heel, striding down the hallway and escaping them all as quickly as possible. Pearl gasped, and she immediately let go of Maya’s hand so she could set off barrelling down the hallway. “Hold on! Wait for me, Mr. Godot!”

Godot didn’t look back. But he did slow until Pearl caught up, and when she shoved her little hand in his large one he didn’t pull away. 

Gumshoe scratched his chin. Maya squinted at the departing duo, obviously wondering how Godot knew where to take a left turn at the hallway. Phoenix made a mental note of it too. For a blind guy, he was really familiar with the courthouse…which meant that Phoenix’s mistake was perfectly reasonable! Anybody would make it! “Just double checkin’. You two are actually cool with sending off a little girl with the sketchiest grown man ever? Completely unsupervised and stuff?”

What, seriously? Phoenix and Maya glanced at each other before shrugging. “If you can’t trust your coworkers,” Maya intoned seriously, “you can’t trust anybody. Nobody’s more trustworthy than a real lawyer.”

“And Edgeworth recommended him,” Phoenix pointed out. “Good enough for me. The state of California would never have certified him as a defense attorney if he wasn’t trustworthy.”

“That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about the law to dispute it,” Gumshoe said cheerfully, displaying a chain of logic that had proven extremely convenient for Phoenix over the years. Maya had once tricked Gumshoe into letting them into a crime scene by pretending that there was a legal holiday once a year where every law and police procedure was inverted. “Don’t we got a trial to hit, anyway?”

“Shit!”

Pearl’s inaugural performance as the prosecution’s co-counsel/imouto went off without a hitch. Phoenix couldn’t be prouder of her efforts. She played her part perfectly: from the well-timed timed motivational encouragements to tension-relieving funny quips, she was a natural. Her only experience co-counseling with Phoenix had been very stressful for her, so Phoenix was happy to see her shine with confidence. Pearl Fey was truly suited for villainy.

She even went above and beyond into the role of personal assistant imouto. She carefully managed the presented evidence, holding up the right photograph or blood-stained object for the purview of the court. Pearl read out any written reports, described the evidence that Phoenix presented, and reported on any notable body language. Phoenix wasn’t sure if Godot knowing that ‘the Defense looks like you ate the last onigiri he was saving for lunch…’ was remotely helpful, but it was cute. Godot better realize how lucky he was to have such a top-quality imouto at his side today. It confused the judge, but what didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” the judge said, as Pearl carefully withdrew a generic white coffee mug from a large box underneath the table. Seemingly…filled with more mugs.  “Doesn’t that little girl belong to the Defense?”

“The Defense is loaning her out today,” Phoenix said seriously. Pearl began wrangling a coffee pot the size of her head. “Don’t worry, it’s not a conflict of interest.”

“I see!” Pearl carefully tipped the large pot into the white mug. It spilled everywhere, but coffee was poured. “And what is a ‘conflict of interest’?”

“Obscure old legal term. Don’t worry about it.” Pearl reached over the table and attempted to slide the mug towards Godot, as the unlucky draftee from the audience always did. He just pointed at a random pot in the crowd and told somebody that they were in charge of his coffee today. Terribly unorganized way to do things. 

“Watch it, you senile old man. The Defense is distracting you with outdated legal concepts. Focus on the most important aspect of this case!” Why was only the prosecution allowed to insult the judge! Why were they the only ones allowed to get away with that! Seriously unfair! As if Phoenix didn’t want to strangle the judge with his own two hands too?!

The mug scooted forward a little, but barely moved. Pearl scowled and tried again, sliding the mug forward a few inches and sloshing coffee over the side again. Pearl huffed in frustration before carefully cupping her hand around the mug and pushing it forward as she walked down the table. 

Godot cupped his hand on the table and let Pearl push the cup into his hand. Then he slammed the table, throwing his head back and chugging the entire mug of steaming hot coffee in one go. He slammed the mug back on the table. Pearl carefully retrieved it. 

“The fact that the old man and this fake Frenchman saw the accused put poison in the cup!” Godot announced. “That’s one fact that can’t be denied! Not by a reliable witness!”

Pearl clapped. Godot patted her on the head. Phoenix groaned.

Phoenix got his way - as usual - by the skin of his teeth - as usual. He was going to have a heart attack before he was thirty at this rate. Phoenix and Maya waited in the courtroom lobby for almost fifteen minutes before Pearl finally came running up to them. She was beaming, cheeks flushed red with pride. 

“Great job out there today, Pearl!” Maya cheered, clapping her hands. Yeah - a little too good. Godot’s performance in court was way smoother than last time. Maybe he was just getting his sea legs, but Phoenix never underestimated the power of young girls pursuing merit badges. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Nuh-uh! Mr. Godot said he’s gonna take me out for ice cream!” Pearl thrust her hand out, shining the biggest, wettest gaze directly into his eyes. “Can I have money for ice cream, Nick? Please?”

“Typically speaking, when you take people out for food, you’re the one paying,” Phoenix said flatly. “Mr. Godot’s on a prosecutor’s salary and I’m representing a waitress. He can pay.” 

“Mr. Godot doesn’t get paid,” Pearl said frankly. “He said he does it for the love of the game.”

This was somehow the most surprising thing he’d heard all day and completely predictable. 

Maya frowned, tilting her head. It was a gesture he’d seen in Mia a thousand times. Even after all this time, Maya still hurt him in those little ways. “Prosecutors get paid by the government. How do you legally work for the government and not get paid?”

“Maybe he’s a volunteer?” Phoenix suggested. “People volunteer at places, right? Like…in zoos?”

“That makes sense!” Maya said brightly, clapping her hands together. “Zoos, a court of law…what’s the difference, right?”

“After we’re done with it, not much.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t meet the parrot,” Pearl said, crushed by the immovable weight of the world’s injustices. “I wanted to make friends. We have so much in common.”

Maya sympathetically patted Pearl’s back. “You do! You’re both so good at imitating voices! Maybe one day Phoenix can cross-examine you too, huh?”

Nope. No. No way! “Not happening. I’ve accused every imouto I’ve ever had of murder on the stand. Pearl’s merciless enough, we can’t take that chance. She wouldn’t make it a day in prison.” 

“Sounds like a you problem,” Maya said, unimpressed. “Godot would never accuse an imouto of murder. He’s a bro like that.”

“He’s a prosecutor, it’s not his job -”

“Apparently being a prosecutor isn’t his job either.”

“You’d make an unemployed man pay for my ice cream?” Pearl demanded. “For shame, Mr. Phoenix Wright!”

Phoenix sighed and pulled out his wallet. He didn’t know why he wasted time pretending this wasn’t going to happen. Pity he wasn’t in the habit of accepting the inevitable. His life would be a lot easier.

[leliwardens]

oh we are so cooked chat i have been seeing "why do you want to do fictional evil actions in a fictional work? sus :/" and "you want racism in your media?" in reference to veilguard there is no going back i fear

[violentlydefending]

genuinely always so shocked to see mirei hate. like literally god forbid women do anything.

[jetii]

Playing Pretend

Pairing: Wrecker x Twi'Lek fem!Reader

Words: 16,373

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fake married, (not) unrequited feelings, Wrecker yearning x1000, some negative self talk, big "get your hands off my wife!" energy, some minor jealousy, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink obviously, light dom!Reader

Summary: The mission is simple: infiltrate a lavish party, plant a bug, and get out. The only problem: Wrecker has to pretend to be married to you, and he's not so sure he can hide how much he likes it.

A/N: Happy Wrecker Wednesday! This is definitely the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written, down to the nonhuman reader bc I'm getting a little bored with humans. With this, we've officially reached the end of the fics I wrote before creating this account, and we're going out with a bang (literally).

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

This mission is going to be a disaster.

It's not that Wrecker doesn’t trust you, quite the opposite. You’re quiet, quick, and resourceful, and you’re one of the smartest people he’s ever met. You're built for infiltration, for gathering intel, and as far as the Batch is concerned, you have yet to fail a mission. So no, there’s no doubt in his mind you're the perfect spy.

It’s his own ability that gives him pause.

Hunter, Echo, hell, even Tech would’ve been a better pick for any sort of espionage mission over him. When Hunter informed them Wrecker was the one that was going with you, Wrecker laughed. A full belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes and left his face aching, because the very idea of him sneaking around, being stealthy, well, it was ridiculous.

It was so ridiculous he was sure Hunter had meant it as a joke, but when he saw the serious look on his face, the one that told him his brother meant business, Wrecker began to sweat. He hasn’t really stopped since. 

Lying and pretending are two things he’s truly terrible at, coupled with the fact that he’ll be alone with you, playing pretend with you, and he‘s been on edge ever since.

It doesn't help that Cid insisted the only way you could get close to the target is by posing as a married couple. One that are newlyweds, at that. 

Wrecker knows this is a job, just a job, but it's still you. 

He's still going to be touching you, and not because you need him to, or you want him to, but because the job requires it. And the whole thing just has him feeling weird. He knows you can fake being a couple, but he's not sure if he can.

As much as Wrecker hates lying and pretending, he really doesn't hate you. If he's being honest, he probably likes you too much. So that's why, when Hunter told him about the mission, and then later asked if he was alright with the details, Wrecker had said yes.

The look Hunter gave him told him that he didn't quite believe him, and Wrecker wasn't even sure he believed himself. After all, it's no secret he doesn't have the greatest poker face. He doesn't like lying, especially to his brothers. But he also doesn't like disappointing them, or disappointing you, and he's willing to do just about anything to make sure you're safe.

The rest of the night before the mission was spent planning and strategizing, which meant he didn't see much of you. He wanted to check in and make sure you were feeling good about the plan, but he never got the chance. 

Now, here he is, in a small, nondescript hotel room with you, the rest of the squad holed up in the Marauder and waiting on your signal. The room itself is nice, but small, and there's only one bed. He’d felt his nerves spike when he first saw it, but he forced himself to relax. If everything goes according to plan, you won't be sleeping in it.

There are other things he's more worried about, anyway. Like how he's going to pull this off, and how he's going to manage not to fuck up, and most importantly, how he's going to manage spending the entire mission trying not to get too wrapped up in you.

That last part is the hardest.

He's sitting on the bed, the holomap spread out on the small table beside it. Your target is a small-time gangster, and he’s having a party at his penthouse tonight, so it's the perfect opportunity to sneak in. All you have to do is go through the party, find the main office, plant a few bugs, and then get out. 

Easy peasy.

At least, that's what Tech said.

Well, he said a lot more than that, but Wrecker had kind of zoned out around the time Tech started talking about security cameras and frequencies. 

What he does know is the bugs need to be placed somewhere in the office, and the two of you will have to blend in and seem as natural as possible until you can make your way there. Easy for you, but Wrecker knows he'll stick out like a sore thumb, even if he isn't in his armor.

“You alright, big guy?” 

Wrecker nearly jumps at the sound of your voice, heart in his throat as he feels your hand gently grab his arm. He tenses underneath your touch. 

He can’t remember the last time you touched him, or even the last time the two of you were alone together. Probably because it hasn’t happened. He thinks he would remember if it had, because it feels electrifying. Your manicured hand, complete with a wedding ring, slides against the fabric of his suit. It takes everything in him not to shiver.

Then he turns to face you fully, and his eyes nearly fall out of his head. 

No, he’s not alright.

You look absolutely stunning.

It's not like you don't look stunning every day, you do, and even when you're in armor, or covered in dirt and grime, Wrecker thinks you're beautiful. But this...this is something else. It's not fair.

You’ve shared a bit about Ryloth during your time together, and you’d mentioned that ever since you left the hot planet, you felt cold. He’s never seen you without a jacket except that one time you’d been shot in your shoulder, and even then, he was more focused on keeping pressure on the wound and getting you to safety than on what you were wearing.

But right now, he can't focus on anything else.

He, embarrassingly, tends to ogle whenever any inch of your vibrant skin is on display. He walked straight into a wall the time you stretched in front of him, and your shirt rode up to reveal a hint of the curve of your stomach. When he saw your legs in a dress at 79s, he shattered his glass. He couldn’t help it. That was one of the first times he realized he had a problem, but it certainly wasn't the last.

You're just...so much, all the time, and you don't even realize it. He's gotten better at being discrete, or at least, he's better at hiding his reactions.

But this is so, so much.

Made of some fancy shimmering black fabric, the top of the dress left nearly your entire chest exposed along with your arms. With two thin straps to hold it up, he doesn't know how it's staying in place, but he's sure if he looks hard enough, he'll find out.

A deep cut runs down the middle of the dress, starting right under your clavicle and ending in a point just below your stomach. It's long, coming all the way down to your feet and flaring out, and there are two slits up either side of the dress, exposing your thighs as you move.

There's no denying it, the dress is tight, and Wrecker is trying so hard not to look, honestly, but it's like his eyes are glued to your body.

You mentioned you would have a weapon on you just in case, but looking over you now — admiring the way the expensive fabric clung to every curve of you — he struggles to imagine where it could be.

He swallows. Hard.

The hand on his arm lets go to reach up and hold one of your lek, shifting it so both were draped over one shoulder. You’d gone all out with decorating them as well. Sparkling straps of black crisscrossed up to a velvet headpiece that takes the place of your usual bandana, all coming to a point high on your forehead, where a deep blue jewel sits at your crown. It shifts slightly with the raise of your eyebrows, and he realizes he's been staring, and he’s still not saying anything.

Wrecker forces out the first words on his mind.

“Wow! You look—wow..."

You give him a small smile, a hint of color darkening your cheeks, and his heart thuds in his chest. He wants to make you blush all the time.

He reaches out and grabs your hand, lifting it above your head with ease. Wrecker turns you into a spin, and he’s rewarded with your cute laugh and the sound of the dress swishing as you spin. And then he sees your back, entirely exposed all the way down to the dimples at the base of your spine, just above the curve of your ass.

Holy shit.

He has to look away, letting go of your hand to rub the back of his neck, feeling a little light-headed. This is already not going well.

“You clean up well yourself, handsome,” you say between a laugh, and he blushes more than he already is.

Wrecker doesn't consider himself all that good-looking, especially compared to his brothers, but you've told him once or twice he's not hard on the eyes. You've also told him he has a nice smile, which had him grinning like an idiot for a solid day. He's still smiling now, because hearing you call him handsome makes his heart pound in his chest.

Still, he's not used to all the compliments. It's a lot, especially when they come from you.

"Tech and Echo did the best they could, I guess," Wrecker shrugs. The motion stretches the threads of his dark suit, and he grimaces. It's itchy, and too tight, and he hates it. He doesn't get how people wear these things all the time. "Not really used to the fancy stuff."

You tilt your head, looking him over. He resists the urge to squirm.

“C’mere," you tell him, beckoning him with your hand.

Wrecker does as he's told, and your hands grab his tie. The feeling of you tugging him closer by the silk sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he can’t help but grin down at you as he watches you adjust it for him. 

Your mouth is pursed, nose wrinkling slightly as you concentrate on getting it just right, even though you both know he'll likely mess it up in a matter of minutes anyway. You’re so cute, and you're so close, and it would be so easy for him to lean in and kiss you.

He's thought about it a lot, and he's almost done it once or twice, but then you'd pull back, or one of his brothers or Omega would come into the room, and the moment would be gone. It was probably for the best, considering he doesn't even know how you feel about him.

“Thanks," he mumbles.

You're still standing close, your chest practically touching his.

"Of course." The words are soft, and they leave him feeling hotter than ever. 

He looks away from you, and catches sight of the two of you in the mirror. Wrecker has always been a bit of a sucker for a good romance, and this? This is right out of one of his favorite holovids. You're both dressed in the finest clothes, him in a suit, you in a gorgeous dress, and it's just the two of you against the world.

Except, this isn't real.

There isn't any grand romance, and the feelings that threaten to burst from his chest are his and his alone.

“You really do look beautiful," he says, his voice a little rough, but honest.

You meet his eyes in the mirror. He watches as the corner of your lips quirk up, and you look almost shy. It's adorable, and a little confusing, because usually, you're not so modest. He wonders what changed.

"I—thank you, Wrecker."

"And I'll keep sayin' it till you believe me," he adds, because it's true.

"Oh, I believe you," you laugh, and the sound warms him to the core.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah."

"Good. 'Cause you really do. You look—" Wrecker swallows, and then shakes his head. He's getting distracted, and it's not good, not when the two of you have a job to do.

"So do you."

You give his tie one last tug, and then take a step back. Your hands smooth down the front of your dress as you look down at your shoes. He can't tell, but he swears you look almost bashful. It's so unlike you that he wonders if you're actually okay.

"You sure you're good?" he asks, concerned.

You hum an affirmative, and then you mutter, “Just already looking forward to taking this off."

The words are mumbled, barely audible, and he doesn't think you intended for him to hear. Wrecker blinks, and his gaze travels down the length of your body, and his mouth goes dry. His mind can't help but wander. It would be so easy for him to reach out, hook his fingers in the thin straps holding your dress up, and just...

"Yeah, me too," Wrecker admits quietly, the words falling from his mouth without thought.

A second passes. Two.

Wrecker's brain catches up to his mouth. He sees the shift of your jaw and the bob of your throat, and he wishes the ground would swallow him up.

"Uh, yeah, I mean," Wrecker starts, trying to backtrack and failing, "because I hate this thing, and it's not very comfortable."

It's not the worst lie he's told, but it's pretty far up there. Still, the look of relief that crosses your face tells him you believe it. Your arms are crossed over your chest, holding yourself in a way that suggests you feel vulnerable, and the realization makes his gut twist.

Wrecker doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, and he feels terrible that he has. He didn't even realize that the dress, and the mission, could bother you. You always seemed so put together, and confident, and not bothered by much, that he just assumed you would be okay. But, you're not, and now he feels bad, and stupid.

"We don't have to do this," Wrecker offers, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shake your head, and he can see you forcing yourself to relax. "I can handle a few hours."

Wrecker isn't sure what to say. He knows you're capable, and he doesn't think you would offer if you didn't think you could do it, but the way you're standing makes him wonder.

"But you know if you don't wanna, that's fine too," he adds, because it is.

Hunter would probably give him an earful later, but you were the priority, and Wrecker would deal with whatever punishment was necessary to make sure you were safe and comfortable. He doubted Hunter would be mad, anyway. They're family, and family looked out for each other, and you were part of the team, too.

You look at him, and then down at the floor, and then back up at him.

"It's fine."

Wrecker bites his tongue, but only barely.

You're not fine, and he can tell, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why. There's a reason you've always been the one chosen for missions like this, even back when you were still an intelligence officer and he was barely more than a shiny. It's not just because of your training and experience, but also because of the way you look.

The thought makes him angry. It isn't right, and he hates that you've been forced into this position. Until tonight, he'd held out some misguided hope that you wouldn't ever have to be put in a situation like this again.

He knows you can handle a lot more than most, but you shouldn't have to.

"Really, Wrecker, I'm fine," you say again, and it's only then that he realizes he's been staring at you.

"Are you sure? ‘Cause if—"

You step forward, putting a hand on his chest and looking up at him. His eyes catch on the shine of your lips, and the warmth of your hand against his chest makes his heart race.

"If you keep asking me, I'm gonna start to think you don't want to be my husband," you tease.

"I'd love to be your husband," Wrecker replies without missing a beat, and he means it.

The words are true, even if the context isn't. It's the closest thing he'll get to a wedding with you, and that thought makes him want to scream. Instead, he settles on smiling, even as his heart races and his palms sweat.

"I'm sorry, I just don't wanna make you feel—"

"I'm kidding, ma sareen," you say, shaking your head, "I know. But really, it's okay."

He gives a slow nod, not sure how to respond. You've called him that before, and while he doesn't speak Ryl, he does know it's a term of endearment. One that he's overhead Suu say to Cut a few times, and one that you've used with him, and only him.

Every time, it makes him smile. But it's one thing for you to say it casually, and another entirely to say it in front of strangers, pretending to be married to him. He doesn't know why the thought makes his heart pound in his chest, or his ears grow warm.

"And hey, at least I have someone who can protect me, right?"

He grins proudly, and nods. That, he can do.

"You got that right."

"Then what's there to worry about?" you ask, a smile on your face.

That I might embarrass you, is what Wrecker wants to say, but doesn't. Instead, he follows you towards the door. You pause just before stepping through, looking up at him expectantly. He doesn't quite understand until you reach out and hold your hand palm up.

"Well?"

"What?"

"Give me your hand, Wrecker," you laugh.

"Oh, right," Wrecker stutters, slipping his hand into yours.

His hands are rough and calloused from years of fighting, but your hand is soft and gentle, and he tries his best not to squeeze too hard. You lead him out of the room and to the lift. You lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Relax, big guy, you've got this," you whisper, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Wrecker hopes you're right.

He's not sure how long the two of you have been here. An hour? Maybe two?

Whatever it is, it's long enough that his face hurts from fake smiling. His shoulders are tense, and he keeps a steady hand on your lower back, not willing to let go.

As soon as the two of you had walked through the door, the guards had taken your weapons, and it had been the first time Wrecker had felt truly unsettled since leaving the ship. Not only was he unarmed, but now, you were as well, and he was responsible for keeping you safe. They'd even taken the knife you'd tucked into the holster on your thigh.

They'd also frisked you, and while it wasn't the first time, or even the first time for him, it was the first time he'd seen it done like that. The guard had run his hands up the inside of your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to places he never should've been touching, and Wrecker had seen red.

The man was lucky all Wrecker did was grab his wrist and pull it away, his grip tight enough to bruise. The guard had stumbled, his face red as he tried and failed to apologize. It didn't matter to him. The bastard wouldn't be able to use that hand for a while, and Wrecker hadn't felt bad at all.

After, he'd wrapped his arm around your waist and held you close. He knows he probably shouldn't have, but he needed the reminder that you were safe. He could pretend it was just for show, but really, it was to comfort himself.

It doesn't help that every eye in the room has been on the two of you since you arrived, and while the stares are likely directed at you, Wrecker still doesn't like it. It makes his blood boil, and his skin crawl, and all he wants to do is get out of here. He hates how uncomfortable and vulnerable it makes him feel, and the fact that it's affecting him at all is embarrassing.

You seem to be doing just fine, chatting with various people, laughing and smiling and, unfortunately, flirting.

Not with him, no. With all the men and women around you.

It's the nature of the job, he knows that, but it still sucks.

You're doing your best to blend in, and it's working. He just tries his best to keep up with you. He doesn't trust any of these people, not even for a second, and the tension in his shoulders doesn't ease, no matter how hard he tries.

This is the first time he's been in a party like this, and he doesn't think he likes it.

When Tech had said the target was having a party, he'd expected loud music, maybe some dancing. What he got was an old-fashioned cocktail party, the type he's only ever seen in holovids, and the kind where the rich and powerful mingle and talk about politics and money.

It's boring, and the people are rude, and the lights of the chandelier make his eye twitch. But worst of all, no one can take their eyes off you, and he can't blame them. Even after the initial shock of seeing you dressed like that has passed, his eyes can't help but trail down the length of your body. And while you're definitely the most beautiful person in the room, he thinks there's a part of him that doesn't want anyone else to see you.

At least there's good food. And drink. And while he would never dare touch you without permission, it's nice to know he can do so now.

So he's taken every opportunity to do just that, to let everyone around know that you're his. He's kept his hand on the small of your back, the curve of your hip, the bend of your waist, and he's made sure to be close to you at all times. You don't seem to mind, which is the best part, and it makes his chest swell with pride.

Your arm is tucked around his, your fingers laced with his own, and he loves the way you lean into him, like you need him, like he's a safe place for you. He doesn't know if you do, but it doesn't stop him from wishing.

Wrecker looks at the ring on his finger. It's a simple gold band, nothing fancy, and it reminds him that this isn't real. It's just for the job, and he has to keep reminding himself of that. Because if he doesn't, it'll be easy for him to lose sight of that. And if he loses sight, he might do something stupid, like kiss you, and he's not sure if he'd be able to stop.

"So, where did you two meet?"

Wrecker tears his gaze away from you and to the Twi'lek across from him, her blue lekku adorned with jewels. He has no idea who she is, but the two of you are getting along so well he doesn't want to interrupt. You're the only Twi'leks in the room, and he thinks that might be the only reason the two of you are talking at all.

"Oh, it's a little embarrassing, actually," you answer, a shy smile on your face.

You squeeze his hand and glance up at him, and his stomach flutters.

"Not really," he mumbles, cheeks warm.

"You don't think so, but I might," you giggle, and Wrecker can't help the way his mouth quirks up in a smile. He wants to kiss your forehead, or your cheek, or your lips, but he doesn't.

The Twi'lek woman laughs and sips her drink, leaning in close to listen.

"C'mon, tell me, I'm dying to know."

Wrecker's not sure what story you've told everyone else, so he's not sure if this is part of it, but the way you look up at him makes his heart skip a beat. You squeeze his hand again, and he wonders if it's supposed to be a sign. It's a little distracting.

"Well, um, we met when he saved my life."

Wrecker nearly chokes on his drink.

The Twi'lek raises a brow, glancing between the two of you. "Really?"

"Mhm."

"That's not embarrassing."

"Yes, it is. Because he saved my life, and instead of being grateful, I called him an idiot," you tell her, a blush rising to your cheeks.

It's the truth. When you were still an officer, your unit was under fire. You'd been separated from your squad, pinned down, and Wrecker had found you. He'd pulled you from your hiding spot and out of the way, and the two of you had barely escaped unscathed. But the first words you'd said to him were, 'You idiot, you almost shot me.'

In his defense, he was a little distracted at the time.

"What did you say to that?"

Wrecker shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. "Not much."

You look up at him, your eyes shining. "I mean, he did save my life, so I apologized, obviously."

"Obviously," the woman nods.

"And, um, well," you stumble, and Wrecker wonders what's making you so nervous. It's not like you to be caught off guard, but you seem almost embarrassed. "He's the kindest man I've ever met, and I was immediately charmed by him."

Wrecker can't hide the surprise that crosses his face, but he does his best.

"It was hard not to fall for him," you admit, a softness in your voice that wasn't there before, "and, well, here we are."

Your gaze meets his, and the tenderness in your eyes takes his breath away.

"So romantic," the woman sighs, and you nod in agreement.

"Yeah, it's...it's somethin'," Wrecker says quietly, his chest tight.

He doesn't think anyone's ever talked about him like that, let alone in front of a bunch of strangers.

You lean into him, a soft smile on your face. Wrecker's hand slides from your waist to rest on the small of your back, and his eyes linger on the curve of your lip, the slight shimmer on your cheek. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes drop down to watch the motion, and his heart thuds against his ribcage.

He can't help but wonder if maybe there's some truth to what you're saying. It's not like you've been lying the entire time, and Wrecker isn't naïve. He knows this is all part of the act, but the way you're looking at him makes him feel like you might mean it.

Wrecker can't help the way his mind wanders, or the way his stomach flutters when your lips brush his ear as you whisper, "You alright, darling?"

His breath hitches in his throat, and it's hard not to shudder as you trail a finger up his arm.

"Yeah, m'fine," he manages, the words shaky.

Your lips brush the shell of his ear, and he has to fight the urge to groan.

"We've got company," you whisper.

Wrecker tenses, scanning the room. It takes a moment for him to realize you mean the target. He's making his way through the crowd, and it's only a matter of moments before he's approaching.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kasta," he greets, an air of confidence in his voice, "welcome."

Wrecker nods at him, keeping his mouth shut. He doesn't trust himself not to say something stupid. He's already fucked up a few times tonight, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself. Besides, you're already taking the lead, smiling brightly at the man.

"Thank you for having us, Mr. Dralig," you tell him, giving a slight bow.

"Please, call me Bohme," he insists, returning the gesture. "Always a pleasure to meet such an esteemed couple as yourselves. You look ravishing, Mrs. Kasta."

You blush, and Wrecker fights the urge to roll his eyes. You are the most stunning woman in the room, and he can't imagine how this asshole could think otherwise, but the compliment still makes him bristle. He can't understand why you don't seem more annoyed.

"Well, thank you," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice.

"I do hope you're enjoying yourselves," Bohme continues, "the food, the music, the view."

The man's eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and Wrecker doesn't have to be a genius to figure out what he means.

"Oh, yes, very much so," you reply easily, ignoring the implication, "thank you."

Bohme nods, and then turns his attention to Wrecker, giving him a quick once-over. Wrecker tenses. The man is short and thin, his features pinched and pale, but his eyes are sharp, and his mouth is curved up in a smile that's almost predatory.

"I must say, I was a little surprised when I learned the Kastas would be joining us tonight. I was told they were unable to make it."

Wrecker narrows his eyes, watching the man carefully.

"Yes, well, our schedules opened up, and my husband was able to move some things around. It's rare we get a night off, so I jumped at the chance," you tell him, reaching out to grab Wrecker's arm and squeeze it.

He's glad you're playing the part so well. It's definitely not something he's capable of, and he can't help but feel a little useless. But he can at least make sure you're not alone, and that this guy keeps his hands off you.

"Well, I'm glad you could make it."

"We're glad we could too. The party's been wonderful."

"Glad to hear it."

Wrecker shifts slightly, feeling the weight of the man's gaze. There's something unsettling about him, and Wrecker's never been able to hide his disdain for the people they're forced to work for. But Bohme's the mark, and so he tries his best not to stare, but he's never been good at playing nice.

"If I'm being honest, I thought the rumors were exaggerated."

Wrecker frowns, and you look a little surprised.

"Oh?"

"I see the scars aren't," Bohme adds, gesturing to Wrecker's face.

Wrecker doesn't reply, only glares. The scars have never bothered him, not really. Sure, sometimes people stare, or ask him about them, and sometimes that's more than a little awkward. But he doesn't hate them. He mostly just forgets they're there until he gets one of the phantom pains, or someone points them out.

This man, though, he's staring, and not with curiosity, but with judgement, and it makes Wrecker’s skin crawl. He clenches his jaw, looking for the words to tell him off that won’t make the entire operation fail, but thankfully, you're quicker than him.

"No, but I quite like them," you say, reaching up and brushing a hand over his scarred cheek.

Wrecker swallows, his head tilting down to meet your gaze. Your touch is gentle, your thumb brushing under his eye, and he watches as your eyes shift from cold fury to something warmer, kinder.

"They remind me of just how brave and selfless my husband is," you tell him, the words soft, almost as if they're just for him.

Wrecker blinks, his lips parting. He wants to respond, but his throat is dry, and he's not sure what he would say even if he could.

"And I would be lost without him," you add, your fingers sliding across his jaw.

He knows this isn't real, that it's just for show, and he's just a means to an end, but he can't help the way his heart races in his chest. Because the way you're looking at him isn't fake, and neither are your words. He doesn't know how he's so sure, but he is.

He can't find his voice, and he doesn't trust himself to speak, so instead, he takes your hand and presses his lips to the inside of your wrist. You gasp, and your mouth parts, and he's so focused on the warmth of your skin and the way you blush that he barely registers the sound of Bohme's laughter.

"Oh, to be young and in love."

Wrecker doesn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation. He doesn't care. All he can focus on is you. The way you look up at him, and the softness in your eyes. The way you're pressed against him, and the way his arm is wrapped around you, and the way it feels like you belong there.

You've always felt right in his arms, like you fit perfectly, and every time you touch him, he wonders if it's the last. That's how it is now. Like it could end at any moment. So, he's memorizing everything, every detail, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice, the scent of your perfume.

Because when this is all over, he'll never be close to you like this again, and he'll never forget it.

"Ma sareen." 

He snaps out of his trance at the sound of your voice. "Hmm?"

"Could you be a dear and get me a drink?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

Wrecker leans in, pressing his lips to your temple, and he relishes the way your cheeks turn red and the sound of your breath hitching in your throat. He doesn't know what he's doing. All he knows is that it's worth it to see the look on your face, and the way Bohme looks like he's swallowed a lemon.

He gives your waist a gentle squeeze and turns, making his way through the crowd to the bar. It's the furthest place from the door, and the longest walk of his life, because his head is swimming, and his heart is pounding, and it’s giving him too much time to think.

And when he does, all he can think about is you. He's not blind. He can see the way you've been looking at him tonight, and the way you're touching him. It's driving him crazy, and the more time he spends here with you, the harder it is to convince himself that you don't feel the same.

Maybe you do feel the same, and he's just been missing the signs, too afraid to see them. Maybe he should do something about it.

The thought is scary. What if he does, and he's wrong?

But then he remembers the way your fingers slid across his cheek, the way you leaned into his side,  and the way you blush whenever he calls you sweetheart. It's enough to give him hope.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks.

Wrecker blinks, glancing down at him. He'd forgotten why he was here, and his cheeks warm as he fumbles for an answer. Champagne seems like the right call for you. You'd both had a few glasses earlier, and it was fine, but he needed something much stronger if he was going to have a chance at getting through the rest of the night.

"Whiskey, neat.”

He doesn't pay attention as the bartender pours his drink. He turns around toward where couples are dancing, scanning the room for you. When he finally finds you, his stomach twists, and he has to force himself to breathe.

Bohme has his hands on your hips, and your hand is on his chest, and the way his head dips toward yours sends a flash of anger through him. The two of you are dancing, swaying back and forth, and while Wrecker knows it's a mission, and that you're just playing a part, it still makes his stomach churn.

Because even from here, he can see the look in the man's eyes, and it's not one of someone who's just playing a part.

"Is that all?" the bartender asks.

"What—no, no. Give me another," Wrecker mutters, grabbing the first glass and downing it in a single gulp.

It burns his throat, but it's the distraction he needs, because the two of you are getting closer. He's not sure if Bohme is going in for a kiss, but he knows he's not going to be able to watch it happen.

The second glass goes down just as quickly, and Wrecker winces, slamming the glass back on the bar and turning around. He doesn't know what's come over him. He's not a jealous person. Never has been, not even a little. He's been on plenty of missions with you, and seen you get close with other men, and while he didn't like it, he's never felt this.

Wrecker pushes past the dancing couples and walks toward the two of you. As soon as Bohme's hand slides lower on your back, Wrecker knows it's too much. You've gone along with the plan, but Wrecker's not going to stand here and watch you be taken advantage of, not by him, or anyone.

He storms up to the two of you, ignoring the startled looks on your faces and those around you. Before he can even think about what he's doing, Wrecker wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. His hand settles on your lower back, your skin warm and soft against his palm.

"Can I cut in?" he growls, his voice low and gruff.

"Uh—"

"I was talking to my wife," Wrecker snaps, his eyes narrowed.

The man's face pales, and his mouth drops open. He glances down at you, and then back up at Wrecker, and then steps back, holding his hands up in surrender.

You press your hand to his chest, and the motion is so familiar and comforting that his shoulders relax. He looks down at you, and his breath catches in his throat. There's a hint of a smile on your face, and you look happy, and his stomach flutters.

"Of course, darling," you murmur, your fingers curling into his shirt, "we were just having a nice chat, weren't we, Bohme?"

Wrecker glares at the man.

"Yeah, sure, we were," the man replies, taking a step back.

Wrecker knows he should leave it alone, and let you take care of it, but the whiskey has loosened his tongue, and the man's wandering hands have left him feeling more than a little possessive.

"Don't get any ideas, pal. She's married," Wrecker tells him, his voice a deep growl.

He's being harsh, but he doesn't care. You've had to deal with this asshole enough for one night, and Wrecker's tired of watching him touch you, and talk to you, and look at you.

"Of course, I would never," Bohme says, shaking his head.

Wrecker's not convinced, but he's not going to start a fight over it. As much as he'd like to knock the guy's teeth in, he doesn't. For your sake. And for the mission's, though he's caring less and less about that as the night goes on.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Wrecker asks, his tone gentler, more concerned, as he leads you away.

"I'm fine, darling," you answer, giving his arm a squeeze.

He's not sure if he's imagining it, but he swears you sound a little breathy. Wrecker's not surprised. If his heart is racing from the adrenaline of pulling you away from Bohme, then yours probably is, too.

"Sorry I forgot your drink," he mutters as he picks up his pace, "that guy just rubs me the wrong way."

"It's okay," you say, looking up at him with a small smile. As the two of you get further and further away, you add, "I was kind of hoping you would."

He stops walking, his brow furrowing. "What?"

"Nothing, ma sareen."

"Wait, were you—" Wrecker glances over his shoulder, and the realization hits him. You'd known the whole time, and were counting on him to notice, and he had. He's not sure if he should be mad, or embarrassed, or something else entirely. "Oh."

You tilt your head, looking up at him with an amused expression. "Yeah, oh."

"That's why you wanted a drink, wasn't it?"

You bite your lip, a blush rising to your cheeks. "Well, I was thirsty."

"I—"

"I knew you wouldn't leave me alone with him."

"I wouldn't," he says, shaking his head, "not in a million years."

You look down, and his grip on you tightens. He doesn't mean to, but he's still shaken up, and your nearness is a comfort, even if it shouldn't be.

You lean into him, and he takes a step forward, pulling you close. His other hand comes up, his fingers brushing your cheek, and his eyes drop to your lips. He doesn't mean to touch you like this, but now that he has, he doesn't want to stop.

"I know," you say softly, your breath warm against his palm.

"Good," he murmurs.

Your hand slips down his chest, and Wrecker shudders. You're standing so close, and your face is only inches from his, and your eyes are shining. The words leave him before he stop them, his voice a low rumble.

"And I don't want anyone else touching you, either.”

The sound that leaves your mouth sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he has to fight the urge to kiss you.

"Good," you whisper, the word nearly lost to the music.

"Really?"

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes, and his heart skips a beat. "Mhm."

Wrecker lets out a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to cup your cheek. His lips are only inches from yours, and he's not sure if it's the alcohol or the dress, but he feels bold. Too bold.

"Then, is it okay if I—"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"Yes," you tell him, leaning closer, "but not here."

Wrecker freezes. Did he hear that right? Or is he imagining things?

"Why not?"

"Because," you start slowly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "if you kiss me, I'm not going to want you to stop. And we're in the middle of a party, and the mission's not over."

Wrecker doesn't even realize his mouth has fallen open until you reach up and close it for him. Your touch is gentle, and his cheeks are warm, and the softness in your eyes makes him melt. 

Your hand drags down to adjust his lapel before you slip something into his pocket.

"Got his keycard," you whisper, patting his chest.

Wrecker doesn't care. You could've told him you'd stolen the man's starship, and it still wouldn't have mattered. Not with the way you're looking at him.

"You're really somethin', y'know that?" he asks, and if he sounds a little breathless, he doesn't care about that either.

"So are you, ma sareen," you answer, smiling softly, "so are you."

"Almost done," you say, your voice soft, but urgent.

Wrecker is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze locked on you. He's careful not to touch anything in Bohme's office as you make your way around. His eyes are on the sway of your hips, and the soft curves of your body, and it's all he can do not to reach out and pull you against him.

You'd managed to slip away, and while Wrecker is a little disappointed the two of you had to leave, he knows the sooner you're finished, the sooner you can be alone.

"Anythin' you need help with, sweetheart?"

"No," you answer, "I got it."

You're bent over, looking for something, and the view gives him a perfect view of the curve of your ass. It's a bit distracting, and his mind is wandering. He's thinking about how nice it would be to hold you in his arms, and kiss you, and the things he would like to do if he had the opportunity.

The list is getting longer by the minute.

"Just need a few more seconds."

"I'm not in a rush," he answers with a shrug. His eyes are locked on your ass, and the way it moves as you work. You'd asked him to keep watch, and that's what he's doing, just keeping watch.

"Yes, you are," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice.

"Maybe," he admits, not bothering to deny it.

He doesn't care if it's a little pathetic, or desperate. He doesn't want to hide his feelings anymore. Not from you, and not from himself. He wants you to know, and to understand.

You glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his. You're wearing a smile that makes his stomach flutter.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, a sultry note to your voice that makes his head spin. You walk over to the lamp on the wall and unscrew the glass. One of the bugs Tech had given you slips into the empty socket before you replace the bulb.

Wrecker blinks, his mind foggy.

"You."

You look surprised, and for a moment, he wonders if he's gone too far. But then, you smile, and he knows he's made the right choice. "Yeah? What about me?"

"Just how lucky I am," he tells you, the words sincere.

"Lucky?" you ask, raising a brow.

"Mhm."

You shake your head, letting out a soft laugh. "I think I'm the lucky one."

"I dunno. Pretty sure I'm the one who gets to take you home," Wrecker points out, a grin on his face.

Your eyes widen, and your lips part, and for a moment, you just stare at him, stunned. You let out a shaky breath, your face falling, and it's then that Wrecker realizes his mistake. You’re worth more to him than a quick roll in the sheets, and while he wants you, and the thought of it makes him hot and bothered, he's not interested in a one-night stand.

"I, uh, I didn't mean it like that," he stutters, his cheeks growing warm. “I—“

"Don't worry, darling, I know what you meant," you say, a hint of disappointment in your voice.

"It's not like—"

"We should go, Wrecker. The others are waiting."

"Right," Wrecker says quietly.

He doesn't like the tension in your shoulders, or the way you won't look at him. He's not sure what to say to fix this. All he knows is that the moment is over, and his heart is pounding.

When the two of you step out of the office, the door slides shut behind you, and he grabs your wrist. You don't stop, and you don't turn around. But you don't pull away, either.

"Hey, c'mon, just wait a sec, please."

You stop, letting out a quiet sigh. "It's okay, Wrecker, you don't have to—"

"But I want to."

You look up at him, your jaw set, and there's something in your eyes that tells him you don't believe him. It breaks his heart a little. Because it's true. He's been wanting you for a long time, and even if you don't feel the same, he's not going to let you leave without knowing it.

Wrecker takes a step toward you, and another, and another, until he's pressed against you. He lets go of your wrist, and his hand settles on your waist.

"Wrecker, what are you doing?"

"Trying not to be an idiot."

"You're not an—"

"Yeah, I am," he interrupts, a soft smile on his face. "I'm not good with words, and I don't always know the right thing to say. But I'm gonna try."

"Wrecker," you whisper, your eyes wide, "you don't have to."

"But I want to. I wanna tell you the truth."

"The truth?"

He nods.

"And what's that?"

"That I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met," he tells you, his voice soft. "I think you're the bravest, and the kindest, and the smartest. I think you're the best, and I wish I was half the person you are."

"Wrecker, you're—"

He squeezes your waist gently. "Not done yet."

You smile up at him, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart race, and you nod.

"And I know I don't deserve you, and I know you're probably just being nice, and that maybe, I'm reading into this too much, but I don't think so."

You look like you want to interrupt him again, but you don't. He's grateful.

"I think there's something here. Between us,” he says. “And I've never been good at keeping my feelings to myself. I think about you all the time, and I can't help it.”

"Wrecker, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably."

You shake your head, laughing. "Wrecker, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to tell me you have feelings for me."

"Well, that's because I do."

"What?" you ask, sounding almost as surprised as he felt earlier.

"Have feelings for you. I have a lot of 'em," he tells you, a smile on his face. It feels good to finally admit it. "I've had them for a while."

"How long?"

"Pretty much since I met you."

"Really?"

He nods. "Really."

"That's...a long time," you murmur.

"Mhm. So, that's the truth," Wrecker says. "And if you don't feel the same, or if I'm wrong, or if I'm misreading things, then just tell me, and I'll never bring it up again."

"I don't think I could," you answer, "not now, after all that."

"So, then, maybe—"

"Wrecker," you whisper, his tie and pulling him closer. Your lips brush his, and he has to fight the urge to groan. "I have a lot of feelings, too. I just didn't know you did."

"Yeah?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah," you breathe, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't bother fighting the groan this time. He can't. Not when you're this close. Not when he can feel your breath against his skin. Not when your lips are ghosting over his, and the scent of your perfume is filling his nose, and the warmth of your body is pressed against him.

"Then, does this mean—"

"You can kiss me," you murmur.

Wrecker doesn't hesitate.

His mouth crashes against yours, his hands slipping down to your hips and pulling you against him. You let out a whimper, and it's all he can do not to moan.

He doesn't want to push too far, or scare you away, so he holds back. He kisses you with restraint, with tenderness, with love. Your lips are soft, and pliant, and your fingers tighten in his shirt as he deepens the kiss. It's even better than he imagined, and he's spent hours imagining it.

He doesn't care that anyone could see you. He doesn't care about the mission, or the bugs, or the fact that the others are waiting for you. He only cares about you, and the way you feel in his arms.

"Wrecker," you mumble, breaking the kiss.

"Hm?"

"We should go," you remind him, your voice soft.

"Right," he says, "just one more."

"One more," you agree.

Your lips are on his again, and it's just as good as the first time. Wrecker doesn't want to stop, and he doesn't, not until his comm buzzes, and his brother's voice rings out in his ear.

"Wrecker, status report. We need an update."

Wrecker groans, pulling away from you. "Tech, not a good time."

"Now is precisely the time," his brother replies, sounding exasperated. "What is the status of the mission?"

Wrecker glances at you, and you look back up at him with a soft smile on your swollen lips. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and the feeling is so comforting and sweet that his chest aches.

"It's good," Wrecker answers, smiling. "The mission is going really good."

"Good?" he hears Hunter repeat. He's not sure if it's confusion or disbelief in his voice. Maybe a little bit of both.

"Great," he corrects, leaning down to kiss you again. "Really, really great."

"Oh," Tech mutters, and Wrecker can hear the gears turning in his head. "I…did not expect that."

Wrecker smiles down at you. "Yeah, well, neither did I."

“I see.” There's a pause, and the sound of shuffling, some muffled voices, and then Tech adds, "In that case, we will let you get back to your, ah, mission."

"Thanks, Tech."

"Mhm," his brother hums, sounding a little awkward. "You’re welcome. We'll see you both when you return.”

The comm clicks off, and Wrecker sighs. "Guess we should get back to the ship."

"Yeah, we probably should," you agree, though neither of you move. "Or..."

He perks up. "Or?"

"Or, we could go back to the hotel," you suggest, a playful note in your voice. "We did pay for the night, after all. It would be a shame to waste it."

"A real shame," he nods, his voice grave.

"Besides," you add, your hand sliding down his chest, "we could use the extra time to...discuss the details of the mission. Make sure we're on the same page, and everything."

Wrecker bites back a moan. The feeling of your hand on his chest, and the sound of your voice, and the suggestion in your words, and the glint in your eyes. It's enough to make his knees weak.

"What do you think, ma sareen?"

"I think," he murmurs, kissing your neck, "that's the best idea I've ever heard."

The two of you barely make it through the door.

As soon as it slides shut behind you, Wrecker’s lips are on yours. His hands haven’t left your hips since you entered the elevator. He guides you backwards, his hands roaming across your back and sides. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and the sound you make sends a rush of heat straight to his cock.

Your back hits the wall next to the door, and Wrecker lifts you up, wedging a thigh between your legs. The dress is riding up, and his hand slips under it, and he's never been more grateful for Tech's insistence on getting a hotel room.

His tongue slides across the roof of your mouth, and he swallows the gasp that leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you roll your hips, grinding against his thigh. The sound that leaves his mouth is embarrassingly needy as his hand moves higher, squeezing the soft flesh. Your knife has been safely returned to its holster, and his fingers run along the strap.

He wants to take his time with you, to make sure you know how he feels, but he can't stop touching you. You’re so soft, and he's been wanting to do this for so long, and the dress makes it so easy to find new places to explore.

"Wrecker," you whimper, arching against him.

He nips at your neck, and the soft whine that escapes your throat makes his knees weak. His hand squeezes the back of your leg, and his mouth travels lower, his teeth dragging across your collarbone.

"You look so fuckin' good in this," he tells you, his lips brushing the swell of your breasts. "Drivin' me crazy."

"Yeah?" you ask, reaching up to loosen his tie.

"Yeah," he grunts. He leans down, pressing his mouth to the tops of your breasts. You make a soft noise, and he smiles, his hand slipping up your thigh and pushing the hem of the dress higher. "Been thinkin' about taking it off all night.”

"Well, why don't you, then?"

Wrecker pulls away, and you look up at him, your eyes half-lidded and dark. Your cheeks are flushed, and your chest is rising and falling, and you look so fucking gorgeous, he can't stand it.

He doesn't respond. His lips find yours again, and he pushes your skirt up higher, his hands bunching the smooth fabric. He tries his best to be gentle, but it's hard. The thought of ripping the dress from your body, tearing it off and tossing it to the side is appealing, but he won't. It's not his to ruin, and he doesn't want to make you mad.

"This okay?" he asks, breaking the kiss.

"Yeah," you answer, nodding. Your hands join his, and together you pull the dress over your head, and toss it aside.

He nearly drops you.

He doesn't, but it's a close thing.

"You—oh, fuck," he groans, his head falling to the crook of your neck, "you weren't wearin' anythin' underneath?"

You let out a breathless laugh, and the feeling of it makes his head spin.

"Surprised?"

"Uh, yeah."

He's not sure what to say, or what to do.

The only thing he can think about is the way your bare pussy is pressed against his thigh. Your nails drag across his scalp, and he shudders. He’s pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting, because all he can do is stare at you.

Your makeup is messy, your headpiece a little crooked, and your chest is rising and falling in short, shallow breaths, and you're looking up at him with a smirk that makes him want to drop to his knees and worship you.

"What's wrong?" you ask, tilting his chin up. "You can't talk now?"

Wrecker grunts. You're teasing him, and he can't even pretend he doesn't like it. He likes it too much.

"You're not playin' fair," he complains, his voice gruff.

"No?"

"Nope."

"Well, neither are you," you say, rolling your hips. The motion drags your pussy across his thigh, and the dampness on his skin has him groaning. You lean forward, your mouth next to his ear. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"

He growls, and you gasp as his hands slide down, grabbing your ass. He hoists you up, putting your chest level with his face.

"Gonna show you," he rasps, "just how much you drive me crazy."

He's never seen anything hotter than the way you're looking at him right now, and he's not sure he ever will. He doesn’t want to close his eyes, doesn’t want to blink, but he can’t help it when his tongue darts out and his lips close around one of your nipples.

The soft sound that escapes your mouth makes his cock throb, and he presses your back against the wall, holding you up with ease with one hand as the other comes up to fondle your other breast. His tongue is hot and insistent against your skin, and your breath catches in your throat when he drags his teeth across the sensitive flesh.

"Fuck," you hiss, arching into him.

"Told ya you look good," he mumbles. He nips at the swell of your breast, and a moan escapes your lips. "Good enough to eat."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," he hums. "Can I?"

"Please."

You let out a squeak as he hikes you up further, his lips ghosting over your ribs, and then your sternum, and then the soft swell of your stomach. Your thighs are draped over his shoulders, and his hands are on the backs of your legs, holding them up and apart, and the sight of you above him is almost too much.

"You smell so fuckin' good," he growls, burying his face between your thighs.

You're already wet, and his nose bumps against your clit as he presses his mouth to your pussy. You're so warm, and soft, and when his tongue slides against you, you moan, the sound desperate and needy.

"Shit, Wrecker," you gasp, your hands coming down to grab his head.

"Just relax," he tells you, his tone a little patronizing. "I gotcha, sweetheart."

He dives in, his mouth eager and unrelenting. He licks and sucks and nips at the sensitive skin, and when his tongue pushes inside, you arch your back, rolling your hips. Your thighs squeeze around his head, and the noises that are leaving your lips are sending sparks down his spine.

He does it again, and again, and again, trying to coax more of those sounds from your mouth. He wants to see what he can get you to do, wants to know what makes you cry out, and moan, and scream.

You're trembling above him, and your pussy is so wet, he can feel it running down his chin.  

"Oh, fuck," you curse, and he can't help but grin.

Your hips buck against his face, and he grabs your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. His fingers sink into the plush skin, and he spreads you apart, his tongue circling your clit. You shudder, and your thighs tighten around his head. He can tell you're getting close, and he can't wait to feel you fall apart, to see your face twist in pleasure, and hear his name on your lips.

He's never been good at this. He's always felt a little out of his depth, a little awkward, a little clumsy. But he's learning. He's watching your reactions, listening to the sounds you make, feeling the way your body responds. And he's paying attention, because he wants to be the only person who can make you feel like this.

He knows it's possessive. He knows it's a lot, especially since the two of you haven't talked about what this means. But he doesn't care. Not right now. He just wants you, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that's what happens.

You're writhing above him, and he can feel the muscles in your thighs tensing as his lips close around your clit. He makes sure he's got a good grip on you with one hand before sliding the other in between your thighs, and he pushes one finger inside you, and then another.

"Wrecker!"

He's pretty sure that's the hottest thing he's ever heard.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers pushing deeper and deeper. He's not even sure if he's hitting the right spot, but from the way you're writhing, and moaning, and cursing, it seems like he's doing something right. Your walls are squeezing his fingers, and he curls them, trying to find the spot that will make you scream.

You do.

Your whole body tenses, your thighs clamping hard around his head, and you throw your head back, crying out. He watches in awe, his eyes wide, and his mouth slack as you come apart above him. He can feel it, can feel your walls tightening, and the rush of heat as you climax, and he can’t resist the urge to press a kiss to the soft, swollen flesh.

"Wrecker," you choke out, your voice cracking, and he knows he's never going to get enough of this. 

He keeps his fingers buried inside of you as he pulls away from the wall. You cling to him, and he carries you over to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress. His fingers slip out of you, and he watches in fascination as you clench around nothing, your body still trembling.

"Fuck," he groans, dropping to his knees and burying his head between your legs again.

You let out a noise of surprise, and his hands push your thighs open, keeping them spread wide.

"You did so good, sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen lips. He licks you clean, his tongue swiping through your folds. You squirm, and his grip on you tightens. "Gonna make you come again."

"Oh," you whimper, letting out a shaky breath.

"Just breathe, cyar'ika," he tells you, his lips trailing up your inner thigh. He can't get enough of the taste of you, or the way your body is reacting. You're still shaking, and the knowledge that it's because of him is making him delirious. He's pretty sure this is the best night of his life.

"I'm gonna make you feel good," he says, his voice soft and low. "I promise."

"You always make me feel good, Wrecker," you whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "Always."

Wrecker grins and leans back, shoving his suit jacket off his shoulders. He's not sure where you want him, or how far you want to take things, but he's happy to follow your lead. He’s happy to do this all night, every night, for the rest of his life, if you asked.

He unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls up the sleeves, his eyes never leaving you. You're looking up at him, your cheeks flushed, your chest rising and falling. He can't believe he gets to see you like this, so vulnerable and trusting.

"What is it?" you ask with a tilt of your head. The motion moves your lekku, and Wrecker's gaze follows. He's fascinated by the way they shift, and sway, and twitch. He wonders what they feel like, if you’ll let him touch them, if they're as sensitive as he's heard.

"Nothin'," he answers, shrugging.

"Liar."

"No, really," he says. Then, a grin spreads across his face, and he can't help himself, "I just like lookin' at ya."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"What about me do you like looking at, ma sareen?"

"Everything," he tells you, and the sincerity in his voice seems to catch you off guard. "Everythin' about you. You're gorgeous, and I'm lucky as hell."

"Wrecker, you're not just saying that, are you?"

"Never," he promises, "not when it comes to you."

You bite your lip, and the way your teeth sink into the plump flesh sends a rush of heat through him.

"You're too good to me," you mumble, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart swell.

"Could never be too good to you," he replies quickly, shaking his head. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and leans back down, kissing the curve of your stomach.

"Wrecker," you sigh, your hands settling on his shoulders, "you're such a gentleman."

"A gentleman?" He laughs, his forehead resting against your hip.

"Mhm," you hum.

He glances up at you, his brows raised. "Sweetheart, I've had my face between your legs for the past fifteen minutes, and you're tellin' me I'm a gentleman?"

"Maybe I like a man who knows how to treat me," you suggest.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Wrecker chuckles, and then he kisses the top of your mound, and then the crease of your thigh, and then your knee. You make a soft noise, and his eyes flick back to your face.

"So, do you still want me to keep treatin' you?" he asks, and if the words come out a little nervous, he can't help it.

"Of course," you say, a hint of surprise in your voice, as if you can't believe he would think otherwise. You smile sweetly, and the weight in his chest lifts. "I want everything with you, Wrecker. Always."

"Good," he sighs, the tension leaving his body. "Because I want everythin', too."

Your head falls back against the pillows, your hands slipping from his shoulders to his head. You pull him closer, and he's more than happy to follow your lead.

"Then, come on, darling," you murmur, lifting your hips and spreading your legs wider, "give me everything."

Wrecker swallows thickly.

"Yes, ma'am."

His mouth is on you again, and you don't hesitate to let him know how good he's doing. You're not shy, and you're not quiet, and you're not afraid to take what you want.

And, gods, does Wrecker like that.

He's still a little in awe, a little dumbstruck by the fact that this is happening, and that it's not just some fantasy he's making up in his head. This is real, and you're here, and you're enjoying yourself, and the sound of your voice, the way you move, the softness of your body is so fucking overwhelming, it's making him delirious.

He wants to do this every night, for the rest of his life.

Your scent fills his nose, and your taste coats his tongue, and the slick, wet noises his mouth makes as he eats you out are driving him crazy. You're shaking beneath him, and your legs are draped over his shoulders, and your nails are scraping against his scalp. Your heels dig into his back, and his hands move down, holding you steady. He's not stopping until you tell him to, and from the way you're moaning, he doesn't think that's going to be anytime soon.

"You're so fucking hot," he groans, his teeth scraping against your folds. "Gonna make you come again. Gonna get you nice and ready for me."

You whimper, and he knows he's made the right choice.

"Sound good?" he asks, voice muffled by your cunt.

"Mhm," you nod.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you moan, "yes, please, please, I want you to fuck me."

"Oh, I'm gonna," he growls, his lips brushing against your clit, "but first, I'm gonna make you scream."

He's not sure where he found the confidence, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice. He's too busy trying to get you to come for him again. He's licking, and sucking, and kissing, and nibbling, and it's only when you're begging him to fuck you that he finally pulls away for air.

"Not yet," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease of your thigh.

"Please," you whimper, "please, Wrecker, I need it. Need you."

He chuckles, his stubble scratching against the inside of your thigh. "I know, sweetheart, I know. Not yet, though. Just a little more."

He slips two fingers inside you, curling them, and your whole body jolts.

"Wrecker, please, I'm so fucking wet, just—"

"I know," he grins, pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your pussy is soaked, and the sound of him fingering you is obscene. It makes him want to shove his cock into you, to feel how tight and warm you are. "Gettin' you nice and wet for me."

"Don't—don't tease me," you huff, and Wrecker laughs, kissing your clit.

"I'm not," he insists. "Just tryin' to make sure you're ready."

"Ready?"

"Mhm." He pushes his fingers deeper, and he can feel the way your walls are already fluttering, the way your muscles are twitching. You're close, and he can't wait to see what you look like when you fall apart. "Wanna make sure you can take me."

"I can," you assure him, "please, I can."

"I'm gonna make you come again," he says, his voice soft. "And then, when you're all nice and relaxed, and you're beggin' for my cock, that's when I'm gonna fuck you."

"I'm begging now," you whine.

"I know, baby," he murmurs, his tongue pressing flat against your clit. "Be patient. It'll be worth it, I promise."

"Okay," you say, and the sound comes out strangled, like it's hard for you to talk. The way your voice breaks, and your chest rises and falls has him grinning, and he leans down again, his mouth eager and insistent.

"Fuck," you gasp, "oh, fuck, Wrecker, I'm—I'm gonna—"

"Go ahead," he encourages, his voice husky, "lemme see.”

Your head falls back, your whole body trembling as you come for the second time that night. It's even more beautiful than the first, and the way you pull his fingers deeper has him moaning against you. He doesn't stop until you're pushing him away, and even then, he doesn't go far.

Wrecker pulls back, slowly, his eyes on yours. You're breathing heavily, and your cheeks are flushed. Somewhere along the way the headpiece you were wearing had come loose, and it's resting on the pillow next to you. Your eyes are hooded, a dazed look on your face, and you look absolutely gorgeous.

"That was so fucking hot," he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Wrecker, that was..." you trail off, letting out a quiet sigh. "I've never come twice that fast before."

"Really?"

You shake your head, laughing breathlessly. "Nope."

"So, I guess I did a good job?"

"Good?" you repeat, looking almost offended. "Darling, it was incredible."

He grins wide and presses a kiss to your stomach. You cup his cheek, and your thumb brushes his lip. It's damp with your arousal, and the realization sends a wave of heat through him.

"I'm just glad I made you feel good," he says.

"Trust me, you did," you assure him, and the earnestness in your voice has his cheeks flushing.

"Glad to hear it," he murmurs. He nips at the underside of your breast, and you whimper.

"Wrecker," you mumble.

"Mhm?"

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Because," you answer, sitting up and grabbing his tie, "I want to kiss you."

He lets out a laugh. "Is that all?"

"No," you say, and the honesty in your tone makes him shiver. You tug on the tie, pulling him towards you until your lips meet in a messy kiss. He's careful not to put his weight on you, keeping most of it on his forearms as he presses closer. Your tongue is hot and insistent against his, and when your teeth scrape his bottom lip, a groan escapes his throat.

"Please," you mumble against his lips. "Please, Wrecker, fuck me."

“Was hoping you’d say that,” he grunts, a smirk on his face.

He kisses you again, and it's rough and needy and a little clumsy. Your hands are roaming across his back, and when they tug on his shirt, he reaches around, pulling the hem out of his pants and working the buttons open.

He doesn't have the patience to undo them all, so he tears the shirt and tie off and tosses them aside. He breathes a sigh of relief at finally being free from the restrictive fabric, only to suck in a sharp breath as your nails scrape his sides. The sensation sends a shiver through him, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, panting.

You don't let up, your hands exploring the planes and divots of his bare chest. His skin is on fire, and his muscles are flexing beneath your touch. Your mouth finds his neck as your fingers move to undo his belt, and his whole body jolts.

You hum, pleased, and Wrecker knows he's in trouble.

Your teeth sink into his shoulder, and your tongue swipes over the marks, and when you press a kiss to his pulse point, he has to remind himself not to get carried away. He's not even inside you yet, and he's already on the verge of losing control.

"Wrecker, I'm tired of waiting," you whine, your hand sliding under his pants and squeezing his ass. "I need you."

"Shit," he curses, his cock twitching in his boxers. "I need you, too."

"Then, what are you waiting for?"

"Nothin'," he says, sitting up. "Absolutely nothin'."

He gets to his feet, pulling off his shoes and socks faster than he's ever undressed in his life. He shoves his pants and boxers down, and his cock springs free. You let out a quiet noise, and he feels a surge of pride as your eyes move down his body, and widen.

"Oh, Wrecker," you breathe, and the awe in your voice is so fucking satisfying. "You're..."

"Yeah?"

"It's so big," you murmur.

He feels the tips of his ears burn. He knows he's big. He's bigger than most, and he's always been worried about scaring people off.

"Do you think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," you say quickly, nodding.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

He's not convinced. "It's okay if you can't, y'know."

"I know, Wrecker," you answer, sounding amused. "I can handle it."

"I just don't want to hurt you."

"I know. And it's sweet. But if you don't come here and fuck me right now, I'm going to go crazy."

"Well, we can't have that," he mutters, a smile playing on his lips.

He climbs back onto the bed, and you move to meet him halfway, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you kneel together. Your chest presses against his, and you're so warm and soft, and he feels like he's going to melt.

He kisses the tip of your lek, and you let out a squeak, and the sound is so cute, he has to kiss the other one, too. He wants to kiss every part of you, and he plans to, someday. Right now, though, he's got something more important to take care of.

His mouth finds yours, and he cups the back of your neck, holding you still. You're pressed together, skin to skin, and he can feel the heat radiating from your body. Your hands are moving over his shoulders, down his chest, across his stomach, and when your fingers wrap around his cock, his hips buck.

"Fuck," he groans.

You give him a slow, languid stroke, and his eyes nearly roll back.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, your hand moving up and down, spreading precum along his length. You press a kiss to his shoulder, and then his collarbone, and his jaw, and his chin, and his mouth.

"I—ah," he grunts, his forehead falling to rest on yours, "You're kiddin', right?"

"Why would I be kidding?"

"You've got a lot more goin' for ya than me," he replies, his cheeks flushing. "A hell of a lot more."

"Nonsense," you say, shaking your head. Your grip tightens, and his breath catches in his throat. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and the things I want to do to you are..."

"Are what?"

"I'd rather show you," you admit, and there's something in your voice that makes his heart skip a beat.

"Well, go ahead, then," he encourages, giving you a toothy grin. "Show me."

Wrecker lets out a surprised yelp when you grab his shoulders and push him back, his back hitting the mattress. He laughs, and then you're on top of him, and his laughter dies, his breath coming out in short, shallow gasps.

You're straddling his waist, and the sight of your naked body above him is the most incredible thing he's ever seen. His hands move on their own, running across your thighs, your hips, and your ribs.

"This is a good look for you," you say, smirking.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

You lean down and kiss him, and he can't help the way his hands wander, one moving up to squeeze your ass, and the other finding your breast. He can't get enough of you, and he doesn't know if he ever will. He squeezes, and rolls, and fondles, and when his thumb brushes your nipple, you break the kiss with a soft moan. You pull away, and he chases after you, his lips pressing against yours.

"Wrecker, stop," you giggle, swatting his hand away.

"I can't help it," he tells you, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your neck. "You're too kriffin' sexy."

"I need you inside me," you say, pushing his shoulders back. "And I'm not going to be able to get there if you keep distracting me."

"Alright," he sighs, falling back against the mattress. "Go ahead, I'll be patient."

"Good boy."

His eyes go wide, and his cock throbs at the words. He knows he likes being praised, and he's not ashamed to admit that, but the way it makes him react is almost embarrassing.

"Oh," you grin, and the mischief in your eyes has his heart racing. "You like that?"

"Yeah," he nods, his cheeks flushing.

"What else do you like?" you ask, leaning forward and grinding against him.

He swallows thickly. "Um."

"Wrecker," you say softly, and his eyes dart up to yours.

"I—" he stammers, his gaze flicking back down to your cunt. "I, uh—you know, I've never really had anyone ask me that before."

"Well, consider this the first time," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Tell me."

"Uh."

"Come on," you urge, kissing the other side, "tell me what you like."

"I like makin' you feel good," he blurts out. "I like it rough, I like bein' told what to do. I like knowin' I'm doin' a good job. And I like you, so—so just...tell me how you feel, or somethin', and I'll be happy."

"I can work with that."

You sit up, and the motion brings your pussy closer to his cock. He watches with wide eyes as you raise yourself up and guide his cock between your folds, the tip brushing against your entrance. His hips twitch, and his hands come up to grip your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

"Kriff, you're gorgeous," he breathes, his eyes on the place where his cock is just barely penetrating you. "You're amazing."

"So are you," you reply.

He's not sure he agrees, but he doesn't have time to argue, because you're sinking down onto him, and his brain stops working.

You let out a quiet sigh, and Wrecker tries his best to keep his composure, but the wet, hot, tightness is too much. His hands tighten, his fingers digging into your sides before he realizes what he's doing. He relaxes his grip, his palms sliding across your skin, his eyes still on where your bodies are joined.

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I just—"

"Don't apologize," you interrupt, your hips shifting, and his cock pushes a little deeper.

"I can't help it," he huffs, "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You're not hurting me," you promise, one hand settling on his chest. The other takes his hand, and you lift it up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I'll tell you if you are, alright? So, don't worry. Just relax."

"Okay," he nods, taking a deep breath. "I can do that."

"Good boy," you praise, and Wrecker feels a wave of heat crash through him.

Your hips shift, and you sink down another inch. He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into a fist. Your mouth is hot and insistent against his knuckles, your tongue swiping over the sensitive skin. You kiss his fingertips, and then his palm, and then the back of his hand. You nip at the fleshy part beneath his thumb, and he hisses, the sensation sending sparks up his arm.

"Fuck," he groans, and his hips buck, and his cock slides a little further inside.

"You're so big," you murmur, your hand sliding up his arm and over his chest. Your nails scrape his skin, and he trembles. "So fucking big, Wrecker."

"Yeah?"

You nod, your mouth open, and your cheeks flushed. Your eyes are a little glassy, and your breathing is shallow, and he can't believe how lucky he is to be here, with you, in this moment.

"I'm gonna—gonna make you feel good," he promises, and you laugh, your walls fluttering around him.

"Oh, darling," you sigh, lifting your hips and sinking back down, taking him a little deeper, "you already are."

His eyes squeeze shut, and his grip on you tightens. He tries to remember to breathe, and not to buck his hips, and not to pull you down and bury himself to the hilt. You're still kissing his hand, and the softness of your lips has him melting, his shoulders falling back against the bed.

"Look at me, ma sareen," you murmur.

Wrecker does.

The sight that greets him nearly sends him over the edge. You're hovering above him, his cock buried inside you, your lekku dangling in the space between your bodies. The lights in the room are dim, but the glow is bright enough to highlight the curve of your breasts, the swell of your hips, and the way your skin seems to shimmer.

You're breathtaking.

"You're amazin'," he says again, because he doesn't have anything better to say.

"You're so sweet," you chuckle, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love that about you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

You kiss him again, and his mouth opens under yours. He groans when you bite his bottom lip, his hands moving to your hips, guiding your movements. You roll your hips, and his cock slips out of you, before sliding back in. You do it again, and again, and again, until the tip of his cock nudges against the end of your channel.

"Oh, shit," you gasp, sitting up, and bracing your hands against his stomach. "Oh, gods, Wrecker, you're—you're so fucking deep."

"Does it feel good?"

"So fucking good," you whimper.

He sits up and wraps his arms around you, holding you close. He can feel the tips of your lekku resting on his chest, and they're even softer than he imagined. He presses a kiss to the base of one, and then the other, and then he's kissing your neck, his stubble scratching against your skin.

"Ah," you sigh, your hips rocking. "Wrecker, fuck, it feels so good."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Good," he growls, and then he grabs your ass and pulls you down onto his cock.

You let out a surprised cry, and then you're moving faster, grinding down on his length. He thrusts up, his hips meeting yours. Your hands are everywhere, roaming across his back, his shoulders, and his chest. You're not shy about it, and you don't hold back. You squeeze, and stroke, and touch every part of him, and it's making him dizzy.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you moan, and Wrecker grunts, his teeth scraping the base of your lekku. "So fucking good, Wrecker."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, and then you're pulling away, and his chest aches at the loss. You push him back against the pillows, and he stares up at you, his lips parted as you ride him, bouncing up and down. Your hands are planted on his chest, and your nails are digging into his skin.

He watches in awe as you take him, his cock disappearing between your legs. No one's ever taken him like this, no one's ever been able to handle him the way you are. You're not afraid, and you're not shy, and you're not afraid to get what you want.

"You're kriffin' perfect," he says, and then he's reaching for you, his hands cupping your face.

Wrecker kisses you, and the sound that leaves your throat is so needy, and desperate, that he can't help but thrust up into you, harder and faster. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you suck on it, drawing a groan from his chest. He's trying to hold on, to last as long as he can, but it's not easy. Not when you're riding him like this, and making him feel like this.

You pull away with a gasp and bury your face in his neck, and the warmth of your breath makes him shiver. He can't see your face, but he can feel the way you're shaking, can hear the quiet noises you're making.

"You like that?" he asks, his voice rough.

"So much," you whine.

"Gonna come for me?"

"Yes, please, yes," you whimper.

"Gonna scream for me?"

"Oh, Wrecker," you moan, your teeth sinking into his shoulder, and the pain goes straight to his cock. "Wrecker, you're making me—I'm so close, please, harder."

He doesn't hesitate to follow your orders.

He lifts his legs, spreading them wider, and you slide a little further down his length. His hips snap up, and your whole body jolts. The first slap of skin against skin has him groaning, and the second has him cursing, and by the time his balls are slapping against your ass, you're begging him not to stop.

He's not sure he could, even if he wanted to. He thrusts again, and again, his pace building. Your cunt is dripping, the wetness seeping from your entrance, and the lewd squelching sound fills the room.

His hand cups the back of your head, holding you close. You nuzzle against his shoulder, your lips pressed to his collarbone, and the sensation is so fucking intimate, so sweet, he's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to hold out.

"Sweetheart," he grunts, and he doesn't have the words to continue, doesn't know how to tell you he's going to come, doesn't want this to end.

"You're so good," you whisper, and he can feel his balls tightening, "so fucking good, Wrecker."

"Can I—I'm gonna come," he warns.

"Oh, fuck, me, too."

"Where—where do you want me?"

"Inside," you whine, and Wrecker has to grit his teeth to keep from coming on the spot. "Wrecker, inside, please, fill me up, I want it, want you."

"Shit," he groans, "fuck, fuck, sweetheart, you're—oh, shit, I'm—"

Your body goes stiff, your walls fluttering around his cock, and his mouth falls open. He's not prepared for the feeling of your pussy gripping his length, or the sound of your breathy moans. He's not prepared for the way your thighs tremble, or the way your back arches, or the way his name spills from your lips.

He's not prepared for the orgasm that crashes over him, the heat and the pleasure that rushes through his veins, and the way his whole body shudders as he comes inside you.

He can't remember the last time he came this hard, the last time he lost control like this. The feeling of your cunt around him is too much, and his head falls back, his eyes squeezing shut. The only thing that keeps him tethered to reality is the sound of your voice in his ear, a string of words in a language he doesn’t understand falling from your lips.

Wrecker holds you, his arms wrapping around you, and his hips buck, his cock twitching. He can't get enough, can't stop coming, can't stop fucking up into you. Your moans are soft, and gentle, and it's not until his own climax has subsided that he realizes you’re slumped against him, your breathing heavy, your face pressed to his neck.

"Shit, sorry, cyar'ika," he mutters as he realizes his grip has tightened. He moves to pull his hands away, but you reach out, taking his wrists and placing his hands back on your waist.

"No," you whimper, "please."

"Sweetheart, I'm hurtin' you."

"Just a little longer," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the base of his throat.

He's not sure why, but the request brings tears to his eyes. You want him. You want him to hold you, and touch you, and the realization makes his heart swell.

"Alright," he agrees, and you sigh and nestle closer.

He lays there, his softening cock still buried inside you, his arms around you, and his fingers find their way to your lekku. He strokes them gently, and you shiver, your body trembling.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels nice."

"Good," he says, smiling. "I like touchin' you."

"I can tell," you laugh and press a kiss to his chest.

He continues, his fingertips tracing a path down the side of one, and then the other. He doesn't know how much time passes. He's lost in the feeling of you, in the warmth of your body, in the softness of your skin. He doesn't even realize his eyes are closed until he hears you laughing.

"What?" Wrecker asks, opening his eyes and looking down at you.

"Are you asleep?"

"No," he answers, shaking his head, though the blush on his face gives him away. "I was just restin' my eyes."

"You sure?" you ask, and there's a teasing tone in your voice.

"I'm sure," he says, and then you're pulling away. His arms drop, and his cock slips out of your cunt, and his mouth falls open. Your combined release is leaking out of you, dripping down his cock and onto his stomach.

"Wow," he breathes.

"Is it a bad 'wow' or a good 'wow'?" you ask, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

"The good kind," he answers, his eyes roaming over your body before returning to your face. His brows furrow. "Can I kiss you?"

"Wrecker, you don't have to ask," you tell him.

"Well, um," he starts, his cheeks turning pink. "It's just, I'm not really good at this part."

"What part?"

"The after part," he tells you. "I mean, it's always been, you know, in the dark, or quick, and I don't know how you feel about kissing and cuddlin' after, and I just...I dunno, I just like you, and I want to do it right."

"Oh, Wrecker," you laugh, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I like kissing and cuddling."

"You do?"

"I do," you nod, a smile on your face. "There's nothing more I'd rather do than kiss you, and cuddle with you, and hold you, and fall asleep with you. That is, if you'll have me."

"Oh.” He blinks. "Yeah, um, I'd like that a lot."

"Then, by all means, darling," you tell him, "kiss me."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you nod, grinning. "Please."

Wrecker leans forward, his hand cupping your cheek, and he presses his lips to yours. He licks into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours, and the soft moan that leaves your lips makes his heart soar.

"You're incredible," he breathes, and the smile on your face is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You are too," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I hope that was everything you were hoping for."

"It was even better," he says, his hand moving down and resting on your hip. "Can we do it again?"

"Right now?" you ask, and he can't help but laugh.

"I was thinkin' tomorrow, maybe," he tells you, his thumb stroking your skin. "I'm gonna be honest, sweetheart, I don't think I'm gonna be able to go again for a while."

"Me either," you reply, laughing.

"But," he starts, his grip on your waist tightening, "when I am, you want to?”

"Of course," you tell him, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck. "I have some other ideas I'd like to run by you, if you're interested."

"I'm very interested." He grins. "Lets get cleaned up, and then you can tell me all about ‘em.”

"Mm," you whine, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “But I don’t want to move.”

“Not a problem,” he replies, and before you can say anything, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him. You squeal, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he slides off the bed, holding you against him.

"Wrecker, put me down," you giggle.

"You're the one who didn't want to move," he reminds you.

"Put me down," you say, but your voice is full of laughter, and you’re smiling.

"No," he teases, shaking his head.

"Wrecker," you sigh, rolling your eyes.

"Sweetheart," he replies, mimicking your tone. “I’m a gentleman, remember? And a gentleman always carries his girl to the shower."

"In that case," you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face against his throat, "thank you, sir."

He walks toward the refresher, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and his chest is bursting with pride. You're smiling, and laughing, and holding onto him, and it feels like a dream.

Wrecker sits you on the edge of the counter, and you wince, a soft hiss leaving your lips.

"You okay?"

"Just a little sore," you admit.

"Shit," he curses. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, no," you shake your head, your hand finding his wrist and squeezing. "It's a good sore, I promise. You were wonderful."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm," you nod, biting your lip. "Best I've ever had."

He laughs. "That can't be true."

"Well, it is," you tell him, and he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "I mean, I've never felt anything like it."

He smiles, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. You reach up, your fingertips brushing against his cheek, and he turns, kissing the palm of your hand.

"You're not just sayin' that, are ya?" he asks.

"Why would I?"

"I dunno," he admits.

"Wrecker," you sigh, your thumb brushing across his lower lip, "it's been a long time since I've felt anything for anyone. The truth is, I've had a crush on you for months. You're sweet, and kind, and funny, and the things you did tonight...the way you made me feel, the way you treated me...I've never felt so safe. Or special.”

"It was nothin'," he says, his cheeks flushing.

"It wasn't nothing," you insist, and he knows the look in your eyes means you're not going to let it go. "You made me feel beautiful, and wanted, and cared for, and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. And it's going to take a lot more than a rough fuck to get rid of me."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

"Yes," you say, pressing a kiss to his chin.

"Okay," he nods. "So, we're gonna try this, huh?"

"Do you want to?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I do," he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I just didn't want to push."

"Well, consider this your official invitation," you tell him, your hands sliding down and squeezing his biceps. "I'm all yours."

"All mine, huh?"

"Yep."

"Good," he nods, and then he's scooping you back up and carrying you toward the shower. "Because I'm all yours, too."

"Even better," you laugh, and the sound is like music to his ears.

Wrecker kisses you again, his hands gripping your thighs, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. You smile against his lips, and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face. He's not sure how this happened. He's not sure why you picked him. But he doesn't care.

All he cares about is the feeling of your lips against his, and the sound of your laughter filling the room. All he cares about is the taste of your mouth, and the warmth of your skin, and the way his chest swells every time you look at him.

He doesn't know where this is going, or how far it will go, but he knows one thing.

He wants it. All of it. With you.

Translation: ma sareen = Ryl for "my sweet"

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

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@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

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@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

[rainybubbles]

How do you meet COD men after your break-up with them ?

Price, Ghost, König, Soap, Alejandro, Gaz, Alex

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC. )

P R I C E :

-In a waiting room at the hospital with him baring his ass and you in your white coat, that's how you meet after your break-up.

-"I can't believe we're both at the hospital," John sighs in pain.

-"Yeah, I thought this was the trendy coffee shop. Turns out, my navigation skills are terrible," you joke.

-He lets out a small laugh.

-"So how did you end up with your ass burnt, John ? Did you try some sexy wax ?"you ask while you begin to examine him.

-"Do you really need to ask why something is burn ?"

-"Soap ?" you guess.

-Price nods.

-"Shit, I think you have some third degree burns on the right side."

-"Soap wanted to make a firework on the base, to light up the mood of everyone on the base. He tried to test the fireworks before, and I was there at the wrong moment."Price explains while you help him walk towards the surgery room.

-"It must have hurt like hell. Lay down here on your stomach, I'll call my colleague. His specialty is the burns, so you'll be in good hands. Normally your ass will only have scars on the right side."

-"Guess I have the other half to seduce people then." he jokes.

-You smile.

-"You know you have a great ass, John. Don't worry about that."

-"I know, love."

-You both stare at each other when he said the nickname. It has been eight months since you broke up. It was on mutual agreement, because you had a promotion on your job that didn't let you time for a relationship.

-You gulp and nod.

-You leave the room and ask the help of your colleague and continued your job.

-You tried to ignore the tension you had with John when you were talking. You tried to ignore the image of him smiling.

-Hours later when you have finished your duty, you were walking out of the hospital when you noticed John.

-"Someone of the team picks you up ?" you ask.

-"Yes, but they're late."

-You hesitate to wait with him, after all you had nothing to do. But your mind reminds you it would be a bad idea.

-"How's your job ?" Price asks.

-"I...Fine. In fact I was transferred to another service two months ago. So it's calmer and I don't have many 24h shifts now. And you ?"

-"Still busy."

-You nod.

-"I quit smoking." Price says suddenly.

-You raised your eyebrows. Cigars were like Price's identity. Like Spiderman has his mask, Price has his cigars and hats.

-"Why ?" you ask.

-"I know you hate the smell."

-"Oh."

-"I think we made a mistake back then, I wanted to text you but..." Jon starts.

-"But you get your ass burnt and me seeing your naked ass before you could do it."

-He laughed.

-"Yes."

-"So you think we should give us another chance ?"

-"I'm sure. I mean we always managed to find time for us with my busy schedule, so why would it be a bother if you have one too ? Plus you said you were transferred so I guess your schedule is back to normal ?"

-"Yes,"you say.

-"Do you want this, sweetheart ?" Price asks looking at you in the eyes

-"I..."

-"You ?"

-"I missed you," you admit.

-"Me too."

-"And shit, I didn't know what to do when I saw you again, but I'm sure I don't want to give up when eight months later you still make me flustered by just a look."

-John smiles.

-"Then we have another chance."

-You nodded.

-"Yes we have."

-I guess Soap burnt some ass, but also help to light the fire of love.

G H O S T :

-The rain was falling.

-Soldiers were wearing their uniforms, and the silence was omnipresent.

-Nobody dared to move, to speak. Only the sobbings of a widow were heard.

-It was Thomas' funeral.

-Thomas was one of Ghost's men, but also someone you knew as a friend.

-So when you arrived at the funeral, you saw Simon.

-It has been two years since you saw him. After your break-up it was as if you had imagined Ghost.

-There were no traces of him, not even in your shared flat, or in your phone.

-You didn't know what to do now he was here in front of you, so you stayed back.

-You ignored the pain of loss and bitter you were feeling about him and the situation.

-But then he was next to you. Like a shadow who didn't dare to approach you, too scared to burn himself with your lighting presence.

-"Simon," you decided to whisper.

-"Y/n," he answered.

-It was awkward. You didn't know what to do. You were with him during four years, but it was like you were strangers again.

-"I...Had Thomas said something before he died ?" you asked.

-You knew Ghost was the one who found Thomas' corpse on the mission.

-"He talked about his wife. And ask to protect the kid."

-"...I see,"you whispered.

-He didn't add anything else, so you sighed.

-"And you ?"

-"me ?" Ghost asked.

-"Simon, he was one of your men. You have known Thomas for three years, even though you didn't have a bond with him like Soap, I know you're feeling guilty now."

-"I'm guilty."

-You wanted to slap him.

-"Guilty of what, Simon ? You can't save everyone. You can't just sacrifice yourself to save the ones you love. It doesn't work like this."

-"It worked for you."

-"Are you really bringing this up ?"you whispered angrily.

-"You're happier now."

-"No I'm not. I just have tried to live again without you. Shit, you left without any warnings, without...without telling me. I had to guess you were breaking up with me."

-He stayed silent.

-"Simon, say something."

-"Why did you keep pursuing me ?"

-"Why did you let me to ?"you asked.

-"...I couldn't lose you."

-"But you did."

-"I know. But I had told you not to choose me."

-"But I did."

-He stayed silent.

-"And I will always choose you." you added.

-Simon raised his eyebrows.

-"...I screwed up." Simon whispered.

-"You did."

-"It's too late, now," Simon said.

-"It's never too late to make up for it, Simon."

-"It's been two years," Simon added.

-"But I'm here."

-"You deserve better," Simon said.

-"My tastes are shitty, what can I say ?"

-He smiled under his mask.

-"I don't ask a new romantic relationship with you, Simon. I just want to be in your life. I don't care if it's platonic, romantic or something else. Just, let me be here for you."

-"Even though we end up strangers again ?"

-"Yes."

-"You're stubborn."

-"I learned that from my ex," you joked.

-He smiled.

-"Okay," he whispered

-"Okay," you answered.

The next day he texted you.

K Ö N I G :

(/!/TW,chemo mentionned, Implied panic attack, it's not said clearly but it's clearly implied.)

-You were visiting your grandma when you saw König in the building.

-It was awkward, you both pretended to not have recognized each other but now you were both in the lift.

-Well stuck in the lift.

-Because a lift is not supposed to tremble and let out a ringing.

-"I...I think we can stop pretending we don't know each other since we're stuck for at least two hours now," you said while you sat on the floor.

-"I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry," König whispered quickly.

-"Me too, and when you didn't say anything, I thought it was better to stay silent too."

-He nodded.

-"So...you're here for your grandma ?" he asked.

-"yes."

-"Does she still have chemo or ?"

-"No she's in remission. You remembered that ?" you asked surprised

-"Yes, you talked a lot about it."

-You stayed quiet. One of the reasons for the break-up was your feeling of being alone in this relationship. König was always gone and at home it seems like he didn't listen to you, or avoided you a lot.

-You only talked once about your grandma and it was two years ago.

-"I see" you said

-The silence was awkward. But then you heard König's breath rushed.

-You noticed how his eyes were widen and how hard he gripped his own clothes.

-You know what was coming, so you held his hands like you were used to.

-"König, focus on me."

-"I'm sorry."

-"Don't apologize, focus on me and my voice. Everything is okay."

-"We're stuck in an lift. It's not okay. Scheisse."

-"yes it is, I mean it's kinda cozy ?" you tried to joke.

-He snorts.

-"Okay it smells like piss and it's small, but we're alive and breathing." you said.

-"I'm sorry," König said.

-"Don't apologize for being anxious, König. Just focus and breathe slowly."

-You inhale with him slowly.

-He calmed down a bit.

-"I'm sorry," he continued.

-"You don't have to apologize, I told you. It's not your fault the lift is-"

-"Not about this, about us." König said anxiously.

-"Us ?"

-"Yes, I...I was so worried you would leave me if I made a mistake that I ended up to avoid you and, and I couldn't stop and..."

-"And I broke up with you."

-"Yes if had communicated better with you, none of us would be hurt. I'm so sorry." König said, crying.

-"Shh, don't cry. Just focus on my voice and breathe," yousay "Can I ask you a question ?" you asked.

-He nodded.

-" Why are you saying this, now ? It's been three months since we broke up."

-"Because it felt like my last chance. I...I don't believe in fate but being stuck in an lift with you feels like a big coincidence."

-You nodded.

-"yes. I'm sorry too, König. I should have talked before making suppositions. I know you have anxiety, and I didn't consider it."

-"you couldn't have guessed."

-"yes, but I could have waited for you to explain."

-König nodded.

-"Do you feel better ?" you asked.

-"yes, but don't let go my hand, please."

-You nod. You know physical touch helped him a lot.

-"I still have one of your mask at home." you said.

-"I'm sorry I could take it back and-"

-"And my dog refused to let it go. I hide it, but it seems like my dog always finds your mask and sleeps with it like it's a plush."

-König's heart melted. Your dog was a puppy when you started dating him, he helped you with it for two years so of course your dog still feels attached to him.

-"it's cute."

-"I wanted to send you a picture of it, but it didn't feel right. Because I used to do that when we were together. So I didn't know if it was appropriate."

-"It is appropriate." König said, quickly, "I mean, send them please, I miss your dog."

-"okay, I will," you smiled.

-One hour later the lift was fixed, when you came back home you send him a photo of your dog

and...

-One year later, König was on the photo too. Guess your dog and a lift were just what you needed to have another chance.

S O A P :

-Half-naked in a chair.

-That's how you met Soap after your break-up.

-Both of you stared at each other, surprised.

-"I-" you tried to start.

-"I-" he also said.

-"Maybe you can...put your shirt back on ?" you tried.

-"Oh shit, aye. 'm sorry yer colleague says to get ready and..."

-"It's not a striptease club, Soap. She was only talking about your references," you chuckled.

-He smiled.

-You sat on the chair in front of him.

-"Do you still want to do it, even though you know it's me ? I can call a colleague if you prefer."

-"I always have trusted yer art skills. I want ye," He said without hesitation.

-It was true. Back then Soap always supported you when you confessed you wanted to become a tattoo artist.

-"I guess you didn't know who I was. Or perhaps you enjoy being shirtless at your ex's workplace ?" you joked.

-He smiled.

-"Naw, I didnae ken. Plus there's nae picture o' your face on yer Insta. I liked yer work, so I just booked an appointment, I didn't know yer artist name was that," Soap says.

-"yeah" you said. "so, you're here for a cover. I bet you and Gaz made a bet, you were drunk and a creepy tattoo artist accepted to tattoo you ?"

-"Youknow me, well." Soap smiled.

-"How ugly it is ?"

-"I have a portrait of Price on my chest, but it looks like Michael Jackson and under there is written"no pen, no gain.""

-You tried to not laugh.

-"Price ?"

-"It was to show my respect."

-"You can respect someone without having their face tattooed." You laugh.

-"I know, I was drunk and...I regret it. Dae ye think you can do something ?"

-"Well now, I need to look at it."

-"Ye said it was not a striptease club."

-"Guess I was wrong."

-He laughed and put off his shirt.

-You looked at the horrible piece on his right pectorals.

-"Shit, his teeth are stuck to his noses and one eye is like twice the size of the other,"you noticed.

-"I know."

-"But you're lucky."

-"Why ?"

-"Your terrible tattoo artist use light inks, it's easier to cover than a black and white piece. The more the piece is darker, the more it's difficult to cover it."

-"Okay, so ye can do it ?"

-"I can erase Price and no pen, no gain. Yes. Do you have any ideas about your cover ?"

-"You." Soap said.

-You blinked.

-"smooth, Mac Tavish, really smooth."

-"So it's a yes ?"

-"It's a no for me being the tattoo."

-"But ?" Soap smirked.

-"But yes for a coffee."

-He smiled.

-"but before let's erase Price from your body, I don't want to wake up at your side and see him staring at me."

-Soap laughs.

A L E J A N D R O :

(TW /!/, there's some reference about something put in some food)

-You met him in the street at 1 A.M.

-Alejandro had drinks with Los Vaqueros at a bar to celebrate a successful mission. He was going back to his car when he noticed someone who limped.

-He approached this person, maybe they were hurt and...

-"Y/N"

-You looked up.

-Shit.

-"I can explain," you said.

-"Explain why you're limping in a Patrick from Sponge bob in heels ?"

-"...yes ?"

-"Why does it sound like a question ?"

-"Because I don't know, I- It was a friend's birthday and they love Sponge Bob and I saw that on Tik tok. It was fun but..."

-"You sprained your ankle with your heels."

-"yes, but I came on foot."

-Alejandro looked at you.

-"I can drive you."

-"Alejandro, you don't need to. I mean it's already enough awkward and-"

-"I don't want you to hurt yourself, plus it's dangerous for everyone to walk on streets at 1 AM, hurt."

-You knew how Alejandro was serious and stubborn.

-"okay." you said, but Alejandro started to kneel down.

-"Wow, what are you doing ?"

-"Taking off your heels, your ankle is swollen it musts hurt like this."

-You let him do it.

-"I feel like Cinderella," you said.

-"Except you're in Patrick's costume and near to some piss in a street."

-You laughed.

-"I guess you were celebrating." you said pointing at the bar behind you.

-"yes, we finished the mission." he said and quickly looked away.

-This mission.

-The one which made you leave him.

-Alejandro was too absent.

-You tried to accept this, he warned you before you dated but after four years, you couldn't bear it anymore.

-"I see."

-He put your shoes in his backpack and looked at you.

-"I will carry you."

-"You don't need it, Alejandro I can walk." you said while you tried but you only hissed at pain.

-"No, you can't."

-"You can't give me a piggyback ride. You have a backpack and..."

-"Bridal style, it's only the time we reach my car."

-You looked at him hesitant and nodded. Then he carried you. This man didn't have muscles for nothing and you knew it but you were still self-conscious.

-Once you reached his car, he drove to your flat. But when you were supposed to enter to your building, you stayed in the car.

-"Alejandro."

-"Y/N."

-"Thanks for tonight, I know for you it's normal, but not a lot of people would have helped their ex like this."

-"Not a lot of people have amazing exes."

-"You're a smooth talker."

-"I am." He smirked.

-"How's Rudy ?" you asked out of nowhere.

-Alejandro was surprised.

-"Fine, but why do you ask ?"

-"I don't want to go back to my flat."

-"Y/N..."

-"I...I don't know if it's because I'm tired, but shit, I want to cry. Because you met me again like this. But also because I thought I could....I could forget you, but I can't because I know we broke up because of an impulsion. I was upset, yes. Yes you ignored me when I was telling you about your absence. But I never tried to think with you of solutions, I only shouted and I felt bad about it," you said tears in your eyes.

-And Alejandro noticed how your body language was unusual.

-"Did you drink, Y/N ?"

-"No, but I think there was something in the food at the birthday's party," you said.

-"okay, then I'm staying with you to be sure you're okay."

-"thanks. And sorry I shouldn't have vent like this."

-"you're not yourself, it's okay, mi cielo." He said while he carried you at your flat's door then opened it.

-"I missed this," you whispered.

-"Miss what ?"

-"you speaking Spanish. Did you know I subscribe to Duolingo after our first date ?" you said.

-"You never told me that."

-"I wanted to impress you."

-"But you have never spoken Spanish to me."

-"Because I never went more further than unit one on duolingo, I'm shitty at this."

-(sorry if you're fluent or good in Spanish ;)

-He laughed.

-"I could have taught you Spanish." Alejandro smiles while he helped you to remove the pink paint on your face.

-"I never think about it."

-"Because you always want to carry everything." Alejandro whispers.

-"I have to."

-"No."

-"But if I don't, who will ? Nobody will carry me." you answered.

-"I will, I wanted to."

-You stayed quiet.

-"I let the trainings of cadets to Rudy one month ago, I also started some cooperation with another squad so I would have more time."

-"But I broke up with you." you realized.

-"It's okay, you didn't know. I...I wanted to surprise you, but I forgot how much I let you carry for me, how much I relied on you without helping you back."

-Tears were rolling on your cheeks. Alejandro wiped them with his thumbs.

-"I'm sorry, corazon," Alejandro said.

-"Me too."

-"We both need to talk next morning, okay ?"

-"okay" you whispered.

-Then he helped you to go to bed. The next morning he was on your sofa.

-And you talked.

-Maybe some things were unfinished between you.

G A Z :

-You met because Soap is a fanboy.

-Let me explain.

-You and Gaz were high school sweethearts. But after his enlistment you both decided it was better to break up, because with you beginning university and him being in the military you wouldn't have had time for each other.

-And you didn't meet again.

-But years later, Soap invited Gaz and Ghost to a concert.

-Soap had been talking for months about this band he loved.

-He even played the music during missions or on the base.

-He played it to wake everyone up, at one point where Price had banned this music of the base.

-So as a result Gaz and Ghost knew the lyrics and could accompany him to the concert.

-Gaz said 'why not ?' he liked the music.

-But when the concert started, he realized you were the bassist for this band.

-His heart beat faster; the nostalgia was here.

-He knew you played bass, hell he couldn't count how many time he let his head on your lap while you played with a smile.

-"You look like you have seen a ghost." Soap said.

-Ghost snorted. (he only came because he liked the music and because the band's logo was a skull.)

-Gaz gave them a look.

-"You're not funny, but yeah I..I know the bassist."

-Oh boy !

-Gaz should never have told that to Soap.

-Johnny had sparkles in his eyes and was jumping for joy. He begged Gaz to talk to the bodyguards, so they could go to the dressing room and get autographs.

-Gaz tried to explain, but he could barely open his mouth before he found himself standing in front of the guard.

-So when they were in front of the dressing room after the concert, Gaz was sweating. How would you react? It had been years since he saw you. Even though it was on good terms, you both had broken up, he didn't know if you want to meet him again.

-The door opened and...

-"Kyle ?" you asked with a smile.

-Gaz fainted.

-Ghost caught him, and you immediately helped them seat Gaz in a chair in the dressing room.

-"Is he okay ?" you asked Soap.

-"I don't know, it's the first time I've seen him like that. I mean we have seen worst than someone smiling ?" Soap said lost.

-"I'm sorry, it's the stress." Gaz said, "I'm happy to meet you again, Y/N."

-"Yeah, the bodyguard told me you wanted to talk. I was so happy. I mean it's been a while," you smiled.

-"yeah." Gaz answered.

-A silence fell.

-Ghost sighed.

-"Are you both going to let the sexual tension in the room continue or can we know how you both know each other ?" Ghost asked

-You cleared up your throat at the comment.

-"You were high school sweethearts. Our relationship lasted like 2 or 3 years ? But we broke up when Kyle enlisted."

-Soap had a big smirk on his face.

-"Really, high school sweetheart ?" Soap asked

-He was going to tease Gaz on the base about this.

-"Yeah, but it's been awhile. Well, we won't bother you anymore. You played great, and we were just here to congratulate you." Gaz said flustered, he hated to be exposed like this.

-"and to ask if you were free, I mean we love your music and want to know more now we know about your past with Gaz" Soap asked.

-You raised your eyebrows and laughed.

-"Sure, I'm free. I guess you have a lot of embarrassing stories about Gaz."

-"I like you already." Soap smiled.

-Gaz never survived the meeting between you and Soap.

-It was one of his top ten embarrassing moments, after calling Price 'dad' in a meeting with Sheperd.

-But at least he had your number now, years later who knows what could happen.

A L E X :

-You met him at a wedding to arrest him.

-"When we were called for a fight at a wedding, I didn't expect you, Alex. What happened ?" you said while you helped him with his bleeding nose.

-"The bride thought her fiancé who's my friend, was cheating on her with me." Alex said while he furrowed his brows

-"And ?"

-"I wasn't. Leo had coffee on his suit, so I brought him a new one and when she walked on us, she saw him half-naked, and I red-faced because I had run from the shop to the wedding."

-You laughed.

-"She had quite a punch," you said while you looked at his broken nose.

-"Yes, she could compete with Price honestly." Alex sighed.

-You didn't say anything else while your colleagues calmed the bride.

-"I guess you're no longer invited to this wedding anymore," you joked.

-"I guess there won't be a wedding anymore either." he added while he laughed.

-"Do you want to see a doctor, or are you okay ?"

-"I'm okay, it's just nosebleed, nothing I haven't dealt with before."

-"Well I should go now that the situation is fixed."

-"Yeah."

-You began to leave, when he called out your name.

-"Yes ?" you answered.

-"It was...nice to see you again."

-"Yeah"

-"I'll text you once I'm home."

-"Okay."

-You left.

-Alex hurried home as quickly as he could to his home as fast as he can.

-Maybe some things were unfinished, like this wedding.

If you want more COD : COD masterlist

And if you want more of my works in other fandoms : my masterlist

[02chois]

APPLE CIDER

pairing: kang taehyun x reader

summary: friends— that's all what you guys are, yet why does he brush your hair so fondly? why does he holds your hand as you walk home? And you don't even like each other that much. wait, fuck, maybe you do? does he though? you have to find out someway or another.

genre: romance, comedy, light angst, non-idol au

content: smau + written, reader uses she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, light slow burn, denial of feelings, uni au, cheesy texts, platonic flirting, mutual pining, questionable humor, twt and also my humor, inspired by beabadoobee's song apple cider, passive aggressive jokes, kms jokes

featuring: yeojin from loona as reader, kim chaewon from le sserafim, and kim minji from newjeans

main story status: completed (230329 - 230423)

spin off status: on going

schedule: whenever I'm free

CHAPTERS & CHARACTERS ✰

the five dwarves / 4lyfers / preview

01. Who tf is Kang Taehyun 02. Obviously not you 03. All this for me? 04. You're delusional 05. Point of view 06. I need a tutor 07. Midterms k worded me 08. Get over him 09. Start a new life 10. I barely passed 11. We're just friends 12. Operation: MTJ 13. Misunderstandings 14. Your future gf 15. The what operation 16. YN's missing 17. It's really nice to talk to you 18. Let's give this thing a try 19. First kiss 20. Epilogue

Yeonjun spin off:

01. I'll treat you better 02. My healing 03. A date to remember 04. Epilogue

[more to come]

[myfairstarlight]

An Ode to Friends to Lovers - Colin and Penelope's story

Fine, I give in.

As someone who considers themself more of a casual viewer (as in, I've never engaged in the fandom before), I went into this new season with mild interest. And then I fell down the rabbit hole. I should have suspected it though, Friends to Lovers is a trope I affectionate particularly when it comes to romance, unfortunately one I very rarely think is done well. So I was still skeptical going in.

But by God, did they deliver on that front and I need to break it down and talk about it. So I guess this is my review of Bridgerton s3, part 1.

Under the cut though, because this is gonna be a long one (seriously, this is a warning).

I don't particularly think Bridgerton is a complex show, and one can argue all day about whether it is even good (in my eyes, as long as it's entertaining, I don't care if a show is "good"), however, the number of takes I've seen online not understanding basic story-telling worries me a bit.

Don't get me wrong, I agree this first half has pacing issues but I do not think Penelope's and Colin's love story suffered that much, it did not feel rushed to me since we already knew these characters for two whole seasons (and I maintain Colin has always had more depths than what people pretend he does, it seems like, just like the ton, viewers like to overlook him and just characterise him as naive).

And I guess this long ass post was born in the process. So:

Part One: Penelope's glow up

Yes I'm starting by looking at them individually first. I think this post on reddit sums it up so perfectly. I get we're all joking about how unrealistic it is that no man was ever interested in Penelope despite how she looks like an absolute goddess (and I maintain she was the cutest in both previous seasons as well!) - unfortunately it is realistic. That's the reality of bullying, it doesn't get solved by a glow up. Even her association with the Bridgertons through Eloise and Colin did not lessen the bullying, so without them? Even the prettiest dresses would not have changed the ton's perception of her, and she's still the awkward, anxious girl she's always been, and unfortunately, most of these men are not attracted to that. It's not satisfying, she doesn't get her triumphant revenge on a society that always ostracised her - and I think it's important that she does not. That she accepts it. She should not have to change for a ton that will not change for the better either. And it's a lesson she learns quickly - someone will love her for who she is, pretending will only lead to misery. And, it is when she's being herself that she successfully gets the interest of some gentlemen (shout out to Lord Remington! I was so hoping we would be seeing more of him on top of Debling. He's such a Whistledown fan I thought that even after the whole lesson reveal scandal he would have stuck to call on Penelope the next day to gossip together, it would have been cute but I guess he too wanted to avoid being written about) (also I'm just saying in fics he should be the one considered as a proper other suitor for Pen since they seemed to have a genuine connection, meanwhile Debling was really searching for practicality).

The thing I wanna add to that post is this: despite all that, she decided to change her looks for herself. When I first learned of the plot of this season, Colin helping her find a husband, I was scared it would mean Colin would be the one to tell her to have a makeover. It doesn't happen. Sure, Penelope subconsciously requests for a more Parisian style for her new dresses because it is the last place Colin went to, but by that point she has already given up on him. She wants something new, and to feel good in herself. That's how she blooms, by finding a style that she feels comfortable in, finally free from her mother's horrendous tastes. That's what allows her to be more confident as well, the new looks and her motivation to move on from her "unrequited fantasy". As for Colin? He never comments on her change, he compliments her dress (and mind you, that is when he's trying to play up the charm because he knows she's upset with him and he gets humbled, hard) but he never says it looks better on her than what she wore before, he never has a "I never realised how beautiful you were" moment we see a bit too often in friends to lovers stories, because to him she's still his Pen, new dresses, new hairstyles, but the same Pen he's always loved, even if he didn't realise to what extent yet.

But Penelope's confidence... is not quite there yet. Difficult to be, when she's grown up in a loveless home, with horrible sisters, a father who barely cared and a mother who constantly puts her down. Whenever she gets a compliment, her first reaction is "ah, it must be a joke" - that isn't even exclusive to Colin, in the brief interaction between Edwina and Penelope, when Edwina compliments her dress, Penelope also dismisses it. And then, there's Colin, who is always oh so honest with her and does not shy away from praising her. But I'll touch more on that later.

Part Two: Colin's new self.

And then we have the opposite: Colin showing up with a new attitude, and succeeding at it (well, on the surface). Something I haven't seen people bring up a lot though is that he's already tried a new look in s2, and he got mocked for it. The only one who didn't? Penelope. Why didn't he try to emulate being a rake back then? Because Penelope's letters grounded him, he admits it himself. It's seeing himself through Penelope's letters that gave him confidence. But that kind of confidence was not enough in the ton's eyes, and on top of that, between s2 and s3, this time Penelope doesn't write back, and neither do his family. He grows insecure, he's lost the one person who kept him grounded, he thinks his family is annoyed with him, and he still is in search of a purpose, so what does he do? He clings to Anthony's words in s1 after the disaster that was his engagement with Marina: he's too green, time to "fix" that and be more like his big brothers. They got it together, they know their purpose (well, Benedict lost his again but that's a story for another day), so surely, if he acts more like them, and not like the sensitive and naive boy he was, then surely everything will be alright! Right? Note that as opposed to s2, where he kept talking about his travels and it annoyed everyone, in s3 he doesn't go into details about them anymore, even when he's asked. They're only interested in the company he kept during the travels rather than the sights he saw. And honestly, it was heartbreaking to see right away how much of himself he was holding back, even with his own family. Penelope, however, gets the details without even asking because he already knows she likes hearing him talk about them and she makes him comfortable, and he's fully aware of that when he apologises in s3e1.

(I also want to note that, even if this new persona is fake, his new style genuinely fits him better. Just like Penelope, this season Colin found the style that makes him feel good and confident.)

And here's where I need to praise Luke's acting for a bit, because he absolutely nailed the subtle way Colin behaves differently with Penelope vs everyone else. His voice is softer, he is effortlessly charming (I was kicking my feet when he recalled how they met), his smile is bigger, even his whole face looks more relaxed whenever Penelope is around, meanwhile he always appears stiff and like he's calculating his every move when around his "friends". In fact, it is in the carriage scene we finally truly see s1&2's Colin back. When he has that look on his face, as he decides right there and then he's gonna marry her, and then a second later when he asks the question, his face. By God, his eyes are sparkling, he's so happy, and he looks as youthful and carefree as he did in previous seasons, far are the thoughts of trying to fit in a society that he hates.

Because above all, these two know and understand each other in a way no one else in their lives does. And that is a fact that remains despite the outward changes. So yes, I liked that their dynamic did not shift to romance because of their "glow ups", but because they are spending even more time together now. Speaking of which:

Part Three: Authenticity and Vulnerability

One big theme this season is being true to oneself. It's no coincidence mirrors are such a big part of it (even outside of the yet to be seen spicy scene), because looking at a mirror means looking at oneself, and be vulnerable. If s2 was about duty vs heart, eldest siblings trying to do right by their family to the point of self-sabotage, s3 is a battle between the head and the heart. It is not even exclusive to Polin - Eloise is learning and growing by trying to take genuine part in society but struggling to fit in. Cressida wants to become a better person, torn between the pressure put on her shoulders by her parents and this new friendship with Eloise. Benedict is looking for his purpose after learning Anthony paid his way to art school, and feeling like a fraud as an artist. Anthony and Kate are unashamedly in love, as they deserve to be after the struggles they went through last season. Francesca has no care for the suitors the Queen and her mother parade in front of her as the "sparkler" of the season (sidenote but I hated that, stupid name, should have stuck to diamond or select another gem) as her heart seeks out the handsome and quiet John Sterling instead. And this will continue in part 2, as Penelope will have to be honest about Lady Whistledown (because she's always her most authentic self around Colin, there is still this big secret she is so determined to keep to herself, when she should not).

The beauty about friends to lovers stories to me is the small declarations of love sprinkled throughout the relationship. It's about the trust already built in with no expectations and the vulnerability we'd never allow anyone but our closest friends to see, something even our family can be ignorant to. I mentioned earlier that Colin never shies away from praising Penelope, way before their dynamic shifts to lovers. He tells her she's good, constant, loyal, special, warm. All of these are declarations of love, even if not with romantic intent, it's about showing his appreciation for her, for the role she holds in his life. And Penelope responds in kind as well. That is why I believe people who think the romance was rushed in s3 either did not watch the past two seasons or see friendship and romantic love as two distinct things rather than a cohesive continuation of each other. In s1, people focus so much on the Marina stuff, as if that cancels out Colin's friendship with Penelope. We still do see Colin actively seek out Penelope at balls, and defending her against Cressida, he compliments her and tells her she's the one who inspired him to travel. Then s2 rolls in, and they're exchanging letters, which will become the cataclysm for their dynamic changing later on. And then there's one of my favourite scenes with them: them talking about their purpose. They both open up here, Colin about his insecurity, Penelope about her dream, it is so intimate. And then, there's of course Colin protecting the Featheringtons from ruins. I'm mostly emphasising Colin's actions, because Penelope's crush on him was always in your face, and while Colin may not have realised it yet, he's always cared about Penelope in a special way, as manifested by his actions and how vulnerable he allows himself to be around her, when even his own family has no idea about what's going on inside his head.

There's a misconception that Colin calling her his friend was him rejecting her, and yet we see in s3 he had no idea whatsoever that she has a crush on him, so he could not lead her on (unlike his book counterpart, who was aware of Penelope's infatuation and was careful never to toe the line until he realised his feelings. Show Colin though? Completely oblivious. And it makes sense, he's still young.) He asks Violet "how do you know it was reciprocated" and not "how do you know you're in love with your best friend". As of right now at the end of part 1, he genuinely thinks he's the one who fell in love first, or at least realised it first. His "You're Pen, you do not count, you're my friend" in s2, was not a rejection in his eyes, but a declaration of love; he's forsaken love and women but not his Penelope, never her, she's his exception And it's not like Penelope resented him for that friendship he so readily gave her, yes she had a crush, but she was proud to call him her friend! He was, with Eloise, her solace away from her family. At the end of the day, this is a friends to lovers story, it is silly to get upset that they considered themselves friends first before there is a click as they realise they are now on the same page to shift their relationship.

Side note but I've never liked the term "friendzoned" because it makes it sound like being friends is a bad thing. I've had unrequited feelings before but I've always felt grateful that being friends with them allowed me to stay close to them even if I knew nothing else could happen. I was still very much happy and content. But maybe I'm projecting on Penelope and that's another debate.

See, what I ended up loving about the lesson plot, which I was so wary of at first, is that Colin barely teaches Penelope anything. At first, he goes for the "do what society expects women to do" (since it worked for him) but then she acts awkwardly, she can't fake it, and it surprises him for a moment. That's when it clicks for him, she just needs to be comfortable because with him, she's always smart, witty and charming, she's herself. He's always seen her that way, and he did not quite realise he had that privilege in the first place. And I love how we see him slowly realise it is no longer a privilege thanks to his help. We see it in e2. When she talks to the guy with the dead horse (forgot his name, oops), Penelope forces the flirt and Colin is amused by it. Fast forward Penelope approaching Lord Remington by herself, without Colin's initiative, and she's being more authentic, and suddenly Jealous by Nick Jonas plays in the background and Colin doesn't look proud, but apprehensive, or dare I say jealous. The shift in Colin's head happens long before Debling is in the picture. I'd argue it already shifted earlier in that episode, in his study, which he flashbacks to in e4.

His journals detail how unfulfilled he feels when he lays with random women in his travels. He longs for emotional intimacy. And guess with who he finally finds that, when a certain red-head asks the one question that allows them to break the physical barrier they had to keep between them for the sake of propriety?

Ah yes, that first kiss. To Colin, everything has been building up to this, this is his true Oh moment. A favour turned into a revelation. For Penelope, this is quite literally the end of her fantasies. This is Penelope's most vulnerable moment. She bares her heart, she's sad, she's desperate. And some people have been calling that moment pathetic, interpreting it as her being weak and giving in to her crush again, saying that she should not have to beg for that man's affection. I concur that she is brave, and bold. I also concur that some of you all are a bit too attached to the girlboss archetype forgetting that allowing oneself to be vulnerable is also a strength. She's never had to beg for Colin's attention anyway because he readily gives it to her, but in this one instance, for once in her life, she is truly being honest. In her head, she has nothing else to lose, and she wants to experience the one thing she thinks she can never have so of course she's gonna turn to the one person she's always trusted and feels the most comfortable with, because before her crush, Colin is her friend. She's asking a favour from a friend. And then she can move on, whatever "moving on" will turn out to be. In this instance, she has the power in her hands.

And it is her bravery that is the true cataclysm for things to change properly. Of course, things have already started to change the moment she stopped replying to the letters, but that moment really expedited their relationship.

Part Four: Lovers, but in a best friends way

The thing with Bridgerton, in the books or in the show, is that each couple has their trope. This is not news to anyone, I think. We've had fake dating, and enemies to lovers, and one characteristic that these two tropes share is a growing tension between the characters before it snaps. There is a reason the early marketing for s3 focused on Penelope being cold towards Colin, tension and conflict are more appealing on the surface. And then the first half of the season comes out and that conflict between our main couple? Solved after one episode because they did one thing that is severely missing in most romance dramas: communicated healthily. Penelope laid out why she was upset (although she does not stay to let Colin explain and then vents out her feelings in Whistledown... she still has some learning to do), Colin immediately went to apologise and make up for it. All of this by talking. And yet I'd argue friends to lovers still has its own tension, just not to the same intensity as the other two, and more difficult to market. The tension comes from the brewing feelings, the way you start seeing every touch, every interaction, in a whole new light, and wondering if it's only in your head or if it's reciprocated. But now combine that with Colin who's always been so earnest about his feelings with Penelope? And Penelope who's always quietly wanted their relationship to evolve that way? Of course they figured it out quickly and got together in half a season. And I'm delighted that we will see them handle the whole Whistledown mess as a couple, as two people aware they love each other deeply, which gives a whole new meaning to the conflict compared to the book where I felt like it was brushed over a bit too quickly (because they got distracted in that carriage). It is the last secret between them, their last obstacle.

I also do not like the "Colin should have grovelled and pined more" argument, when he is the one who insisted on the lessons to help her find a husband in the first place, and then has to face the fact that actually, he doesn't like the idea of another man taking Penelope away, and oh, isn't that the consequences of his own actions? He is grovelling, you just don't see Penelope holding it over his head, because that's not the person she is, this is not a revenge fantasy story, in fact she does not realise the power she has on him because she is used to Colin seeking her out. I like that he didn't stew on his feelings and decided to act on them right away. I also don't like how this whole grovelling thing makes it sound like love is a competition, that just because Penelope has known she's been in love for longer and "suffered" longer, that means Colin needs to do the same to even the planes. Because in my eyes love isn't exactly something to be earned — it is given. Now, are you worthy to keep it? To nurture it and make it bloom and last? That is the real question.

Admittedly, since this is only the first half of the season, we do not see them in a romantic setting a lot. That first half is focused on them rekindling their friendship lost during the summer when Penelope stopped responding to the letters, and Colin having the realisation he cannot live without his best friend, not just because she is his best friend, but also because he loves her. But we do have two important, and obvious instances.

So let's talk about that first kiss again. It is, in my opinion, one of the most gentle and romantic moments in the show so far and also showcased their friendship really well. Colin trying to joke to lighten the mood as Penelope spirals down (peak best friend behaviour actually), the gentle, swelling music, the light of the moon, Colin's deep exhale of realisation as he holds her face when he goes back in for the second kiss, with the furrowed brows of a man on a mission. This is Penelope's most vulnerable moment and Colin's big realisation. And I felt like I was intruding.

And same goes for that carriage scene, but even before they go at it; now this is Colin's most vulnerable moment, and Penelope's realisation that they can be more. He chases the carriage by foot, then goes on his knees to confess his feelings to his best friend in the softest and most determined voice we've ever heard him use this whole season, eyes wide, tears threatening to fall as it is his turn to bare his heart and ask for a chance. Meanwhile Penelope takes it all in, running her hand through his hair because she can finally touch him, melting under him. Things get steamy. And then... and then... The carriage stops, they get startled, Colin jokes that the driver should have kept on driving and then... they laugh. They just made out, and went to second base together, and yet here they are now, laughing. It is such a genuine and lovely moment. And it's then that Colin has that look in his eyes, that "I'm gonna marry her" look. That is when he realises he cannot live his life without her. That his purpose is now right in front of him: making Penelope Featherington, soon to be Bridgerton, laugh until the end of their lives.

Conclusion

There's no conclusion, I just love them so dearly. Yes, there still is the whole Whistledown mess to deal with and sure, the argument with Eloise may make you think great angst is ahead but if there is one big difference between Colin and Eloise, it is this: Colin has always listened to Penelope, and this is not a diss on Eloise. Eloise, bless her heart, can be pretty self-centred, she's loud and a bit immature, something she is growing from in s3, and you cannot ignore that she did not really listen to Penelope (she has no idea Penelope wishes to marry when Penelope tells her she does in s1, we can blame the writing, but I do think it fits with Eloise's journey to realising how privileged and dismissive she is. Penelope was too polite to call her out until their falling out. Meanwhile Cressida is exactly the type of honesty she needs for a wake up call). Colin, on the other hand, is very sensitive and a good listener. Furthermore, this season, Penelope is learning to be more confident, to voice what she wants, and I like to think it is leading to her finding her own voice and not needing Whistledown to hide behind anymore. If there's someone with whom she has no filters, it is Colin, so I have faith that when the reveal happens and an argument breaks out, this new Penelope will not back down and will lay out all her reasons and all her regrets, and Colin may be stubborn, but he loves that woman and he always listens.

A part of me also wishes they keep the jealousy he felt about her writing in the book, and that they don't focus just on the whole "you lied to me" aspect (we've already had that with Eloise). How he, himself, is insecure about his writing, and here Penelope is, less fortunate than he is, and yet who did have the courage to get her writing out there, even if publishing under another name. Because that is also a reality in relationships, when your partner is at a different stage in their career, and how they can communicate to support one another.

Anyway, I'm just rambling now (as if that isn't what I've been doing this whole time). I like them. A little. Just a bit. I'm very normal about them <3

[sebscore]

hi ! I love your gen z driver series so much !!

i have a request that she and zhou show up to the padock in the same outfit unplanned

like i feel this would happen - they both fancy showing up in something so different and the other would be wearing the same thing !! <3 fashion icons think the same 😌

THE HELMET BET

pairings: zhou guanyu x driver!reader / f1 grid x driver!reader 

warnings: swearing. based on the 2022 grid. mention of sexism and racism. joke about doing an orgy.

author's note: idk if this is what you had in mind, but I had already written a small part of this fic and then your ask came in and I couldn't help myself. I love zhou so much, ugh thats my man fr. also, thank you for loving the series, it means a lot to me 💞

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''We're gonna get in trouble.'' Zhou said, shaking his head. 

Y/N frowned at his words. ''Why would we get in trouble? It's always super boring and our bet can at least spice it up a little.'' She reasoned, using a lot of hand gestures to show how serious she was. 

''You know those meetings are about our safety, right? We should take them serious.'' The Chinese driver didn't want to get in hot water with the stewards. 

''But this is a serious matter! We're putting an end to the debate,'' she retorted back, not seeing the harm in using the upcoming driver's briefing for their bet, ''lately, I've been seeing way too many people saying you've got better style than me and I've had enough of it.'' 

The female driver had seen the countless online discussions between fans regarding the most stylish driver on the grid, the winner usually switching between herself, Lewis and Zhou. In her opinion, Lewis had the best style, she didn't need to think twice about it. But it is important for her to know who his successor is, who is the number 2? 

To answer that question, she had come up with a brilliant idea: her and Zhou wear their best outfit to the next driver's briefing, not some team merchandising, and they get the other drivers to vote on which outfit is the best and therefore, which person has the best style. The person with the most votes gets to design a helmet for the loser and they have to wear it at the next racing weekend. 

''Okay, I'm in,'' Zhou admitted, shaking hands to commemorate the challenge, ''be prepared to lose, Y/N.'' 

''Don't worry about me, Guanyu.'' 

Y/N was confident in her win. The young woman knows she has style, her several brand deals with high-respected fashion houses being the proof of that. However, she knew not to underestimate her rookie friend, Zhou has had some killer outfits in the ongoing season. 

They had known each other for some years, but it was only this year that the pair had gotten close. Y/N broke the ice by complimenting one of his outfits at the start of the season and the rest was history. 

The outfit she had gone with was simple, but she looked good and she felt great in it. It was inspired by one of Michael Schumacher's paddock outfits (reference), knowing she would at least have Mick and Seb's vote with that one. 

Y/N got out of her car, ready to make her way to the F1 paddock and straight to the driver's briefing. In the corner of her eye she noticed Zhou's car pull up, his performance coach waving at her through the window. She reciprocated the action and decided to wait for him, thinking it would be nice for the two of them to enter together. She was curious as to what her friend would be wearing, secretly hoping he had fumbled the bag really hard. 

Her hopes came crashing down as Zhou got out of the car, observing the clothes he was wearing and noticing one clear detail. 

They were wearing the same outfit. 

Her eyes seemed ready to bulge out of her head, in complete disbelief. ''Are you fucking kidding me, Zhou?'' 

The Chinese man appeared to be much more amused by the situation, covering his laughter with his hand. ''You look very nice, Y/N.'' He giggled, greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

''It's turned into a ''who wears it better'' challenge, what the heck.'' She commented, eyeing him up and down before glancing at her own fit. 

Zhou chuckled. ''Well either way, I'm winning.'' A small smirk appeared on his face, still sure of his win over his friend. Y/N simply scoffed, grabbing her pass from her purse and walking to the entrance. Zhou and his coach followed her steps, still entertained by her annoyance. 

As soon as the paddock reporters noticed the sight of the two drivers, their cameras were whipped out from their bags and they began taking candid shots of the pair. Zhou and Y/N played along for the cameras, pointing at each other's outfits and pretending to look annoyed. 

Eventually they made it to the right room, already seeing most of the drivers waiting inside. Zhou went in and greeted the others, while Y/N waited outside, ready to lock the door as soon as everyone had arrived and was inside. 

Lando had been the last one to walk down the hallway. ''Hurry up, Norris!'' She exclaimed, her hand motioning for him to pick up the pace. 

''Why? I'm on time.'' He replied a bit agitated, it was a bit too early in the morning for him to be scolded by his friend. 

Y/N didn't respond to him, simply pushing him into the room and locking the door, making several drivers look up from where they were sitting or standing. 

''Y/N, what are you doing?'' Sebastian spoke up, curious as to what she was up to this time. 

The young woman urged Zhou to get up from his seat and to stand next to her. The man felt a bit embarrassed, but followed her orders. Y/N stood in the place where their director normally sat when he answered the drivers' questions or listened to their concerns. She placed both her hands on the desk, looking like a teacher that was about to scold her students.

''As we all know, Mr. Hamilton over there is widely accepted as the driver with the best style,'' she pointed at Lewis, who nervously smiled as the other drivers glanced at him, ''but that's not why we are gathered here today! We are gathered here today to decide who his successor is. Who is the most stylish person after Lewis? That's a question that we will settle once and for all, here, now, in this room.'' She finished her monologue. 

''Me and Mr. Guanyu found ourselves in a battle for the title of second most stylish driver of the grid, so I challenged him. We would wear our best outfits today and have our lovely colleagues vote for who had the best one. But as you all can see, me and Mr. Dior over here, are wearing the same exact fit.'' Y/N waved her hand between herself and Zhou. 

''So, instead of you deciding who is wearing the best outfit, you'll be voting for the person you think is wearing the outfit best.'' She concluded. 

The crowd had mixed reactions: some looked confused, some seemed entertained by what Y/N had told them and others appeared to not care. 

Kevin was the first one to speak, getting up from his seat and walking towards the door. ''Y/N, this is not the time to do this, we're here to talk about the race.'' He was about to turn the lock when her voice stopped him. 

''Magnussen, you're being a party pooper- do you want to be a party pooper?'' She looked at him sternly, trying to convince him to sit back down and go along with her antics. ''Don't pretend like you're not secretly enjoying this.'' The Haas driver rolled his eyes, but defeatedly put his arms up and went back to his seat. 

''Alright, we'll go around the room and each person says either my name or Zhou's.'' She explained further, moving in front of the desk. 

Checo's hand went up in the air. ''Can we also pass?'' He asked, looking at Y/N. 

''If you refuse to choose, we will consider it sexist and racist as I am a woman and Zhou's Asian.'' She answered him, garnering chuckles around the room and a nervous-looking Zhou who hoped people took it as a joke, since he didn't want to be making enemies as a rookie. 

Y/N clapped her hands together. ''Okay, we'll start with our party pooper, KMag! Me or Zhou?'' 

''Zhou, since he didn't yell at me and didn't call me a party pooper.'' He chose, making the female driver narrow her eyes at him. ''Alright, 1 for Zhou.'' 

The person sat next to Kevin was his teammate, Mick. ''Schumacher!'' He was about to speak, but the woman interrupted him. ''Before you choose, I took inspiration from one of your dad's outfits.'' Y/N tried influencing his decision. 

''I was gonna choose you anyway.'' He told her, making her jump up as her and Zhou had an equal score. ''Thank you, Mickie.'' She smiled brightly at him. 

''Valtteri?'' 

''I choose Zhou, I'm loyal to my teammate.'' He answered, smiling at the man in question. 

''Lando?'' 

''Zhou, because he doesn't humiliate me in front of the entire internet.'' The McLaren driver said, referring to their regular back-and-forths on social media. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. ''You're such a crybaby, Rumplestiltskin.'' Her words caused Lando to give her the middle finger, but it was all in good fun. 

''Anyway, Daniel?'' 

The Australian pretended to think hard about his answer, looking in-between her and Zhou. ''I'm gonna go with Y/N, cause I'm kinda scared what she'll do to me if I don't choose her.'' His answer got a laugh out of the other drivers, some of them nodding their heads. 

Y/N herself couldn't help but break a smile at Daniel's words, happy her friend had chosen her. ''Okay, next one.'' 

The voting was nearing its end and there was a tie, 9 people had chosen Zhou and 9 others had voted for Y/N. It all came down to one person. 

Sir Lewis Hamilton. 

Despite some of the drivers' dislike for the bet at the beginning of the meeting, everyone had gotten pretty invested. ''The maestro himself has to choose his next prodigy.'' Daniel joked, looking at the 7x world champion. 

Lewis shifted in his seat, not too fond of having the last vote on the matter. ''Can't I just say both of you? The two of you look very good.'' 

''No, mate! You have to choose.'' George argued, the others agreeing with him. 

Y/N was quite sure that Lewis would choose her. She was much closer to him than Zhou and the pair had talked about fashion before, discussing how it was a great way to express yourself. She was already designing Zhou's helmet in her mind. 

''Well, then… I guess Zhou.'' 

Her mouth dropped open, shocked that the senior driver had chosen the rookie over her. She wasn't the only one that seemed surprised by his choice, Seb turned around in his seat and Pierre's eyes had widened, mouthing ''wow''. 

The young man next to her, lightly slapped her arm. ''I'll send the design to your team next week, Y/N.'' He teasingly laughed, a big smirk present on his face. 

''This is a joke, right? I can't be number 3!'' She dramatically stated. 

''Hey! What's wrong with being the number 3?'' Daniel looked up, feigning being offended by her words. 

She was about to give another monologue about betrayal and how men are all the same, but several loud knocks on the door interrupted that from happening. Y/N sighed, but took a few steps to turn the lock. 

Their director didn't look too happy. ''Why was the door locked?'' 

''We were having an orgy.'' She sarcastically answered him, not planning on explaining to him why she had blocked the door from opening. 

''Y/N!'' 

The actual driver's briefing began and soon enough most drivers were already dozing off, some of them even wishing Y/N and Zhou's bet had taken a bit longer. They wouldn't admit it to the young woman, but ever since she'd made her arrival to these briefings, her unserious antics had made them much more bearable. Some drivers had even started looking forward to the meetings, because the girl always had something up her sleeve. 

As soon as the last issue was resolved, the meeting ended and everyone was out the door. When Zhou saw Y/N talking with Mick and Esteban, he swiftly moved next to Lewis. ''Hey, man,'' he patted the Brit's shoulder, ''thanks for that, I really appreciate it.'' 

''No problem,'' Lewis smiled, ''we made a deal, I'm keeping my word.'' 

Zhou nodded. ''Yeah, you vote for me and I let you help me design her helmet.'' He recalled the promise they had made a day earlier. 

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

[wonlovie]

— ON THIN ICE.

After a nasty fall, you, world-renowned figure skater and stealer of hearts, are forced into an early retirement. But with a boyfriend who’s the star player in one of Korea’s leading hockey teams and a friend group of trending skaters who refuse to leave you in the dust, the cameras stay on. So, how are you supposed to keep it a secret when Yang Jungwon, your boyfriend’s publicly declared rival and enemy, decides you’re his next target?

— starring. hockey-player!jungwon x ex-figure-skater!reader, ft. enhypen as jungwon’s teammates, le sserafim’s yunjin and itzy’s ryujin as reader’s friends, oc as reader’s boyfriend

— tags. my super unfunny humour, some kys/kms jokes, they joke abt jake being 'dead' but he's not, smau, minor angst, fluff, kind of but not really enemies-to-lovers, slowburn, some mature content in later chapters: [cheating (not by jungwon or reader), brief depiction of drunken assault, nothing nsfw] tags will be updated as needed

— status. in progress [started 2023/09/03]

— update schedule. every sunday and thursday! bonus chapters may be posted at any time :)

— notes. my first smau !! this was originally thought of with stray kid’s han in mind but that was many months ago LOL the plot and everything has since been revamped and reimagined for jungwon so hopefully u all like it ! :)

— teaser. blossom!

— profiles. pretty ICY || jungwon + his six kids

— content.

PROLOGUE. don't drag me down

ONE. #pushkids

TWO. yoon's hit list [smau + written ~0.8k]

THREE. JUNGWON GET HIS ASS

FOUR. respect for the lil guy

⇀ BONUS CHAPTER. the fight [written ~1.5k]

FIVE. uh,,, oops

SIX. embarrassing

SEVEN. no one ditches movie night

EIGHT. we're lying to each other now?

NINE. i'm literally gonna get violent (smau + written ~1.1k)

TEN.

ELEVEN.

TWELVE.

THIRTEEN.

FOURTEEN.

.

.

.

to be updated

taglist [open! send an ask or reply to be added // bolded cannot be tagged]

@jiawji @lovelovelovebts @enhacatalog @manooffline @delulu4-life @sooshibot @nwjws @lilriswife4life @maimoirs @shinrjj @bluxjun @aylin-hijabi @luviehyck @y0ubleedjusttoknowyourealive @jngwnlvs @jaeyunsleftnostril @pansies-garden @ilovecheese09 @enhaz1 @amesification @woncine @zellypop-main @underneaththestarlight @gg1609 @glitterssim @sunukissed @in-somnias-world @catsyoon @angigls @ladyartemesia @clairecottenheart @beatr2x @sunghoonsfeethair @en-happiness @woncheecks

*if you cannot be tagged, your visibility may be turned off! tumblr also doesn’t allow users to tag new blogs sometimes. i will periodically retry tagging you if your user is bolded!

©WONLOVIE please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[melon-kiss]

I know some of you don't speak Polish and we can't afford to translate 40-min-long chaotic interviews for you and I'm a bit bored (meaning: my brain wants a break from writing but I'm stubborn and I want to finish it TODAY), so I thought I'd give you a bit of a trivia based on interviews with the actors and the crew of 1670:

throughout all the interviews, no one really asked if we're getting season 2. I mean, someone did and the response was: "Well, we know nothing" but nobody really asked if they had any IDEA about what would happen in the next season

I'm not sure about the actors but the creative and directive levels went to a series of lectures on how people lived in Poland in the XVII century

they received a substantial funding, especially considering the directors were complete "no-names"

filming took 3 months, December through February 2022 if I recall

they all lived in an open-air museum in Kolbuszowa; in fact, almost all of the building were already there, they only had to build the house, the barn and the forge

there was no delay in filming, which is apparently rare in the industry but that was because they had a very tight schedule and couldn't afford staying longer in the museum

the last episode was filmed on one day and that was the last day of filming and because of technical issues with cameras working in the inn (the short shot of Maciej serving the pig to the Adamczewskis' table had to be re-done 20 times!), they had to completely rearrange the wedding party scenes, turning them into long shots; the entire labor/dancing scenes were supposed to be shot from 13 (!) different perspectives and be arranged in a "music video fashion"

one of the first episodes (if not THE first episode) to be filmed was episode 7

the script was written with Bartłomiej Topa (Jan Paweł) in mind, however, the actor wasn't really convinced about participating in this project and took his sweet, sweet time to decide on it; same goes to Dobromir Dymecki (Bogdan). Topa says it wasn't because he didn't find it good - it was because he was afraid that the project would be underfunded and therefore fail as projects like that usually don't get the attention they need in Poland

Bartłomiej Topa said he portrayed Jan Paweł as evil and conniving for the first two weeks of being on the set and the first scene they recorded was the one with the "Adamczycha" sign falling down; only after that time, after one scene in particular (don't remember which one, sorry), he finally saw the true nature of his character and changed his approach to the portrayal

surprisingly, Michał Sikorski (father Jakub), unlike Topa, thought of his character as a silly, innocent man and he changed his mind only after seeing the Aniela-Maciej dance scene where he says Love is peaceful, love is kind, love is... unacceptable - he understood he got to play a villain

the actors were FORBIDDEN to improvise; their lines had to be memorised prior to filming

they shot the barrel-cleaning scene (the thing they do before blowing the magnate's son's head up) for 2h because Bartłomiej Topa and Andrzej Kłak (well, he plays Andrzej) couldn't stop laughing; Topa mentions he doesn't even remember how they managed to get it done

all the mud was brought there ON PURPOSE

Kirył Pietruczuk (Maciej) is a debutante when it comes to film, however, he is the only actor in the crew with an acting degree; not only that - he graduated with honors

when asked about this, Michał Sikorski said: "Well, but it doesn't matter, does it? Because, even thought I haven't graduated, I got to play a nobleman and he... well..." (obv that was A JOKE; he is like the sweetest person ever!)

he also said he wrote a "Maciej's journal" during filming and spent a lot of time creating a backstory for his character; he said it was helping with the a-chronical shooting; he read one of the entries out loud in his interview

he jokingly said his favourite episode is the last one because he got to kiss Martyna (Aniela) there

as mentioned before, casting Maciej's role took the longest. They interviewed about 300 candidates and none of them fit. Kirył recalls it was right after he signed a deal with an agency for the first time in his life and he immediately received a call after his first cinema audition and it was 1670, of course! However, he reports that the process was extremely long - he had to go through several stages, each one of them revealing more and more of the script and he wasn't informed it would take that long

The creators said they looked for someone who'd understand the character and his role in the film - as he is the eyes and ears for us, people from XXI century. "He's basically like a viewer of the events, one of us", Kordian Kądziela (director, episodes 5-8) says. It was important he had a good chemistry with Martyna (she was the first and only "Aniela" he had to do short scenes with and the chemistry was immediate) and was able to break the fourth wall properly - he had to have the talent to comment current events with just one look and I personally think he does it perfectly. The actor was also supposed to be "easily likeable by girls"

The first scene they shot together - meaning as Aniela and Maciej - was the dance scene and Kirył says it's his favourite scene in the entire show

Kirył said the scene with the magnate's son was initially very aggressive on his part, however, after speaking to the directors, he decided to tone it down as it was, indeed, not fit for the character to be this angry

they all said, once they got down to it, they had a feeling they were a part of something special

Feel free to add your trivia or correct me if I'm wrong.

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

things that seemed reoccurring this update:

- Meat

- peas

- jelly

- Hibernation

- Eddie's absence

- Acting out a script (Sally mumbling asking if it's her cue and Howdy changing the script of the narrator in Homewarming storybook, characters general interactions with the narrator, different moments in the video, like the Sally and Frank ad break or the song a barely silent night, where the two literally fight over who get to sing, Sally mentions she wrote the lyrics, and Frank says she already has a song. yeah all of these are easy to see as meta goofs in the original material, but it's the fact there's so much of it this update) (of course all this wrap up with the end of the video where Eddie and Frank are obviously acting off script)

- Being alone (Eddie not having any news of anyone and not even seeing anyone outside (which is interesting as the story says that Sally was up in a tree near his home and saw him fret over having nothing to do), Wally saying it's so quiet during Homewarming and it's just he and Home for a while (potentially the show putting out a christmas special and then being on break? can a show do that?), and in the normal website material, the end of "An ode to hibernation", Frank saying "Where all that's left is me", the "me" being a "...me?")

- Welcome Home being used to sell stuff (cigarettes, medicine, eggnog, cereals, and the cookbook lists ingredients that are a specific brand)

(I'm putting under read more my rambling thoughts so you can just reblog the list without having to see them)

so I can't really make sense yet of all the food stuff. Maybe there are cultural elements/expressions I don't know that explains it? But I still find it very interesting how fucking unhinged that cookbook is yet the commercial and the website treat it normally. The cookbook is overall extremely interesting, because some of the recipes seem to actually be written by the characters; Barnaby who only presents you weird hot dog dressings with pictures but no recipe (and all jokes), Frank who lists not just the ingredients but also the material, and overexplain each steps (at least overexplain compared to the other recipes. it's actually interesting to know why you do x or y), and Julie who turns her recipe into a game at the end, and felt a bit harder to follow? anyway.

The cookbook, the Homewarming tradition of hanging a ham in the tree, Santy Claus being said sometimes instead of Santa, the ham for Santa? Once again, the christmas commercials being so casual about some of the weird stuff it says and presents? This almost feels like an alien who only has a blurry grasp of Christmas and what humans enjoy made the cookbook and the live commercial.

Sometimes, Welcome Home feels like it never actually aired and produced things, but we're making it retroactively exist. Something is making it exist. Like a retcon of the universe, "What do you mean you never heard of Welcome Home? No, of course it always existed and was very popular, look at all this old material we find!"

So maybe whatever is making it exist doesn't fully get humans and accidentally creates things that are weird to prove its existence. Like a cookbook that tells you a single pea in a buttered plate is a classic meal, or that of course you give Santa ham on Homewarming! (tbh almost getting an AI weirdness feel)

But in total contrary, in its story, Welcome Home also feels like it always existed, but got somehow completely wiped from people's mind, as something caused its sudden stop, and its characters gained consciousness of what they are and their world. As an existential dread fell on them one after the other, slowly realizing something isn't right. As Eddie felt anxiety and nervousness over no one being there or contacting him, to then having the story acts lightheartedly about it, the narrator saying things have been solved but he doesn't feel it, and suddenly Home is staring at him.

Both "It never existed but the universe is being retcon into it existing" and "it existed but something terrible happened that erased it from peoples mind" seem plausible. If two theories contradict each other, that means there's a third one that needs to be found.

Maybe it existed. Maybe it truly was popular, but something corrupted it, leading to its disappearance. A disappearance so big it stopped to exist. And now the thing that corrupted it is trying to crawl back, make it exist again, but it's making it come back completely off.

Anyway.

Also, I think the show may have been on hold during the Holiday season, "hibernating", and the character who got some self awareness realized that something was off. They're alone because there's nothing new, so no one is there bringing life to the neighborhood.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Eddeth

Day #30 - Fame & Fortune | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Fake!Eddeth, Steddie | Tags: Modern AU, Stop Trying to Make Eddeth Happen, It's Not Gonna Happen, Eddie & Gareth Are Best Friends, They Are Also: Idiot², Paparazzi, Social Media, Luddite Eddie, Steve Harrington Has To Clean Up All Their Messes, But What Else Is New?

"Did you know they're shipping us?" 

"Shipping us where? I hope they poke holes first," Eddie says, looking over at Gareth as he's scrolling on his phone. Gareth isn't listening to him, doesn't even laugh, which Eddie thinks is rude. That was a great dad joke.

He's picked up dad jokes from Steve, because Steve's corny as fuck. 

"Not like that," Gareth says, "like, shipping us together. We have a name and everything."

"Speak English," Eddie demands.

"You know, like Bennifer? But we're Eddeth," Gareth says.

"Who's Bennifer?"

"Which version?" Gareth asks, "Nevermind. You don't care. It's the ship name for Ben and Jennifer together. Do you never read the tabloids?"

"No. And I don't like that," Eddie says.

"Well, I knew you wouldn't. But now they're thinking about us. Together. Romantically. Enough that we have a mash-up of our names together."

Eddie barks out a laugh, "Well, alright. Whatever floats their boat."

Gareth sits there quietly for a bit, then says, "Maybe we can use this. Drum up some attention for the band. Get our name out there. Be a trending hashtag."

"I don't know what that means," Eddie says. 

"I know you don't. But we could, like, get in the zeitgeist."

"I hate everything you're choosing to be right now," Eddie says.

"Eddie. This could blow us up."

"Well, sure, in that case I'll tell Steve to just step aside."

"Not for real, dummy. Just for the paparazzi. Get our names talked about more. If they see more of the band, they may like the band more."

Eddie says he'll think about it, but he has no intention of doing any of that. They are exactly the right amount of famous. He can walk down the street without being harassed, but they live comfortably. He isn't about to upset that apple cart.

But it persists. There's buzz, apparently. At least according to Gareth, anyway.

So, at the next show, Eddie hops up on the drum riser and covers Bang Dem Sticks, while flirting with Gareth. It is possible to flirt platonically, and he does it very well. 

The next day, Gareth shows him all the chatter. The tiktoks. The commentary. And, well, maybe they could use this to their advantage. Just for a minute.

So, they walk down a dozen different sidewalks, and no paparazzi cameras pop out to snap pictures. Which is normal. He isn't sure why Gareth suddenly thought they'd make TMZ. 

But Gareth persists, and they even go to the Ivy, and still nothing. 

Even LAX is a fucking bust. 

That night, Eddie crawls into bed next to Steve, and sighs.

"What's the matter with you?" Steve asks, tipping down his iPad to look at Eddie.

"Nobody will take my picture with Gareth."

Steve laughs, "What the hell are you talking about?"

So, Eddie tells him their grand plan, and Steve is laughing his fucking ass off before Eddie can even finish. 

"Eddie. You have to call the paps if you want to do a pap walk. They aren't mind-readers. They don't just show up. Do you think all those pictures of celebs you see are actually candid? They definitely aren't."

Well, Eddie never looks at pap pictures. He has no fucking clue. He likes to fly under the radar.

"Really?" Eddie eventually asks. 

"Really. Do you want me to organize a pap walk for you?" Steve asks, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Well. Kinda," he says, "we're Eddeth."

"I know, honey. I've seen all the videos of you flirting with him on stage."

Eddie laughs, "You know that's not real, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm not new here," Steve says, "I'll call it in tomorrow. You can be photographed to your heart's content."

And they are. As if it were magic, a handful of photogs are suddenly very aware of where they'll be on various outings. Eddie holds the door for Gareth. Hugs him on the street corner. They get an inordinate amount of coffees that Eddie doesn't even like.

The pictures run, and not a lot of people care, but they are being discussed in some circles. 

So, they keep doing it. Dinners and movies and trips through the airport where they're not really going anywhere. Only going through security, as if they were.

That's a brand new kind of torture. Who goes through TSA when they don't actually have to? 

More coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee. Eddie's never bought this many drinks in his life. 

And then the bottom falls out. 

Someone makes a video that goes extremely viral, explaining everyone in their Corroded Coffin circle. 

Including Steve. 

In fact, it's almost mourning the breakup of them. Steddie. They're Steddie, apparently, and now the fans, the real fans, those that actually have followed them, are upset. Pointing fingers, assigning blame. Some to Eddie, some to Gareth.

Fuck.

"Uh, we've got a problem," Eddie tells Steve, and Steve just shakes his head, already aware of the situation.

"Do we have to do a pap walk now?" Eddie asks, worrying his hands together. 

He never did anything romantic with Gareth. It can all be explained away, swept under the rug. 

He thinks.

He hopes.

"I really don't want to," Steve says, and that's that. They won't.

Now, Eddie's either a cheater in the eyes of their actual fans, or they think Steve's gone. 

Instead, Gareth does a couple pap walks with his girlfriend, and she's branded a beard, immediately. They really fucked this up, big time. 

"We'll go to dinner. The four of us," Steve says, "I'll call it in."

And Eddie kisses his cheek, over and over.

Just to be safe, Steve has their publicist send TMZ a copy of their marriage certificate, and some boilerplate that Eddie and Gareth are just best friends, and always have been.

As they settle into the booth at the restaurant, pictures still being taken, Steve asks, "Are we done trying to be tabloid fodder? Have we learned our lesson?"

"Yes, Steve," Eddie and Gareth both say in unison.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[genericpuff]

yeah so let's talk about the scenes between hades and thanatos that went from being goofy "haha a boss being hard on an employee" 'jokes' to child abuse as soon as it was revealed that hades was thanatos' adoptive father

and yes i'm putting a content warning jump for ❗❗❗ child abuse and neglect ❗❗❗

so first off, before we even get into the Thanatos / Hades father son relationship thing, I wanna mention a sequence in Episode 39 and why I think Rachel included the scene of Hades reaming Thanatos for being bad at his job.

And it's simply because of what happens the episode before.

Persephone's ableism aside (seriously, I have legs, that doesn't mean I want to walk everywhere, I also own a car, that doesn't mean I have to drive everywhere, maybe flying is tiring? Maybe he's injured and shouldn't be flying? Maybe he has a disability that results in him having wings that can't fly? Check yourself Persephone 😒) this is one of the earliest signs of LO's "Revenge for Persephone" problem which is CONSTANT throughout the narrative - that anytime Persephone is slighted or inconvenienced in the slightest, then the narrative needs to ensure there's some kind of revenge, either directly for her sake or indirectly for the audience's, and it's often always facilitated through or by Hades.

And that leads us to Episode 39, which is when we get exactly that.

Moving onto the scene itself, this is what we call in the work environment a "dressing down". This is not how legitimate employee reviews are given. Hades is not planning on giving him any sort of formal review or constructive criticism. He's planning on tearing him a new asshole just for the fun of doing so. You can even see it written on his face. He's doing this just for the joy of tearing him down. As someone who's been subject to this kind of behavior in previous work environments, I can assure you that this is not normal behavior that's indicative of a functioning workplace, this is abuse.

Taking that train scene into account, it's a way to indirectly "avenge" Persephone. She was slighted by Thanatos, so now Hades is going to make his life hell. But here's the thing - this not revenge for Persephone's sake. Hades doesn't even know Persephone's in the building, and Persephone doesn't know that Thanatos is being berated by Hades. But the scene is here anyways because of course the audience needs to feel "better" about Persephone getting pushed by a stranger at the train stop.

Now, scenes like this have been done in other stories, often times to explain the behavior of bullies/aggressors/etc. because in many cases, textbook bullies, whether children or adults, are abusing others because they're being abused by a higher authority so they take it out on those "weaker" than them.

But this doesn't work in LO, for several reasons.

First off, it pretty much plays it off like a joke, especially when the scene continues after Persephone has walked into Tower 4.

But beyond that, the higher authority abusing Thanatos is someone we're expected to root for. He's the main love interest. While this could be written as a legitimate character flaw, we all know now, in the year 2023, that Rachel sees Hades' behavior as a feature, not a bug. While most scenes written like this would cast a new perspective on a bully and allow some room for understanding and empathy from the audience, in LO's case, we're still not expected to empathize with Thanatos here, they want us insulting him right alongside Hades.

And of course, that brings us to the big blue elephant in the room - the knowledge of Hades and Thanatos' relationship completely re-contextualizes these scenes in a way that's far too depressing and horrifying for a writer like Rachel to be able to wrap up confidently.

Of course, she tried, but her efforts... can't even really be called efforts. For starters, because a lot of it is played off as a joke, as if Rachel can't handle even a single moment of legitimate emotion, she has to "write off the awkward" by making things "funny".

But when she does try to seriously write these scenes of introspection, reflection, and communication, it just winds up turning into the main protagonists going "woe is me, I was the real victim!" and never actually suffering consequences for their actions as a result as they Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss their victims into apologizing to them. It still isn't asking us to empathize with or side with Thanatos, it wants us to end up right back at square one supporting Hades' side of the story.

Literally "well you weren't that bad, at least you were there!" bare minimum accountability, followed by "well I didn't make your life easy so I get it" from someone who was literally a child who was abandoned and left to live with an abusive asshole. It wasn't his fault that he was in the situation he was in, it wasn't his fault that he was a "handful" for Hades because he was a CHILD and Hades was the ADULT, but the comic paints it as Thanatos being at fault anyways for being "ungrateful".

But there are even more subtle signs that point to Thanatos' childhood with Hades that, while not specifically mentioning it, do paint a pretty nasty picture of how Thanatos views Hades and the people around him as a result of his childhood, in a very fridge horror "stop and think about it" kind of way.

First of all, the fact that Thanatos hasn't even been allowed to touch Hades' car. Obviously he's referring to specifically driving it but it makes me wonder what kind of bare minimum accommodations Hades made for his own adopted son. Again, played off for a joke.

And of course we have this one piece of concept art-

Now to be fair, this is concept art from before it was retconned that Thanatos was Hades' son, but it still casts an icky implication in hindsight both because of Hades' treatment towards Thanatos as well as the implication that Thanatos was getting "too close" to Persephone for Hades' liking. This sort of weird dynamic can be found in the actual comic when Hades admits he knows Thanatos was sleeping with Minthe.

And then there was this one scene, which prompted me to write this post in the first place, shared in the ULO Discord.

Thanatos has just met Daphne, so it's not necessarily weird for him to be suspicious of her asking for his phone, but the actual dialogue... doesn't line up with what you'd assume he would be suspicious of.

He doesn't say "you're not going to peek through it, are you?"

He specifically says "You're not going to smash it, are you?"

Now, if this line were intended to be anything more than some throwaway "haha funny" line (which, again, where's the punchline here) then maybe it could point more to something that happened between him and Minthe. But there's nothing that implies she was ever violent towards him, and the one time she IS violent towards anyone, it's implied that's the first and only time she's ever escalated things to that point and that even she's shocked and disgusted at her own behavior.

There is plenty to imply that Thanatos was abused by Hades, though.

So reading this line in hindsight... really just feels like further proof on a growing pile of evidence that Thanatos was constantly being berated, controlled, and abused by Hades, a guy who he never asked for as a father figure, but was still expected to apologize to anyways.

But there is one last thing I wanna mention before I wrap up. One thing that was mentioned by yet another user in the ULO community that really stood out to me because it just goes to show how horrible Hades has been towards Thanatos, both in the past pre-retcon and in the present well after it was established that they were father and (adopted) son.

And that's Hades' two dream sequences that involve him having children with Persephone.

One of these scenes is from before the retcon. The other is from after.

Neither one features Thanatos as a part of Hades' visions for the future.

Hades has been Thanatos' entire life. But Hades doesn't see Thanatos as even a part of his.

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Surrounding Characters: Caleb

Age: Unknown

Birthday: Unknown

Occupation: Fighter pilot

Workplace: Deepspace Aviation Administration (DAA)

Family: Though not related by blood, he was also raised by Grandma Josephine and has a sibling relationship with the protagonist

Spoiler warning: If you have not finished Chapter 4 of the main story, this post contains major spoilers.

Details:

Caleb is the protagonist's childhood friend, a friend so integral to her life that she considers him family. Grandma Josephine also took him in when protaganist was 7 years old. The protaganist sees him as both reliable and trustworthy.

He attended Aerospace Academy in Skyhaven and now works as a fighter pilot for the Deepspace Aviation Administration (DAA). Once he started studies at the Aerospace Academy, he didn't see the protaganist much anymore. But he comes home to spend holidays with Grandma Josephine and protaganist.

Appearance:

He is always shown wearing a black hoodie underneath a DAA jacket, dark cargo pants with "DAA" on the left leg, and calf-high boots. He's even wearing this DAA outfit when leaving home for the Aerospace Academy. The jacket has "DAA" and "C6" embroidered on it, along with various symbols/logos. But I'm we've yet to learn what "C6" signifies.

On his left wrist, he wears a bracelet with one of the DAA symbols on it. And around his neck, he wears a necklace the protagonist gave him when he left for school.

Visiting Grandma Josephine:

When they both visit Grandma Josephine and have dinner, the TV news channel says there have been many recent explosions throughout Linkon City which the Hunter's Association has attributed to Wanderers.

"So far, 22 have been wounded with no casualties. We advise all citizens to be careful when outside...".

Caleb reacts by saying "Explosions, huh?" Before asking the protagonist if there have been many Wanderer activity recently.

During dinner, the protaganist gets an alert about Wanderers in the neighborhood. When she leaves to investigate, Caleb insists on going with her. She suspected he was trying to tag along with her, but he claimed he was just going the store to "buy some vinegar and whatnot".

After asking him to also get her some snacks and fruit and warning him not to follow her, Caleb finally enters the convenience store. But after the encounter with the mysterious man, Caleb returns notably empty handed. No vinegar, snacks, fruit, or any groceries in sight.

The protaganist keeps the encounter a secret so as not to worry Caleb and Grandma Josephine. When Caleb asks about it and she chalks it up to a false alarm, he's pretty offended that she wouldn't tell him what really happened.

"But why do you have to hide it from me? Don't you trust me now that we're all grown-up?"

"If not me, who else could you possibly turn to for..."

He stops mid-sentence with a small laugh. When asked about it, he says she wouldn't understand even if he told her and to forget it. He seems to let the situation go after this and tells her to hide the blood on her sleeve before coming in.

"Since you're a grown up now, I won't cover for you this time."

Seconds after he goes inside Grandma Josephine's house, the explosion occurs. His necklace somehow ends up outside the burning house next to where the protagonist landed.

Random Facts:

He calls the protaganist "pipsqueak" and Josephine "Gran"

He doesn't like cilantro

He can make braised chicken wings

He jokes(?) that he "talked her into becoming a hunter"

When the protaganist expresses concern for Grandma Josephine's health, Caleb announces that he applied for a long-term care ward for her (without consulting/informing either of them about it)

Zayne's family and the protaganist's family had been friends for years, occasionally getting together for meals. So, Caleb also knows Zayne, but he hasn't seen him in a long time

Written on his necklace are the words "When U come back". It was a parting gift the protaganist gave him before he left for the Aerospace Academy.

When Caleb calls her after her first day, he says things at his job have been peaceful and his current military flight operation had wrapped up nicely. But other than a few basic details, he says the information is top secret. The protaganist then says "everything is a secret with you people in the Deepspace Aviation Administration".

Speculation:

The Passing Car?

When Caleb is confronting the protaganist about lying to him, something kind of strange happens. Just as he's asking "If not me, who else could you possibly...", he trails off as we hear a car passing by. The light reflects off of his hair and face as it does. And it's after the car passes that he has that realization he says she wouldn't understand.

I only point this out because I've never seen that happen in scenes with other characters when they're near a street. Because of that, it felt like an intentional detail to potentially take note of?

The Explosion

I find it too eery of a coincidence that the topic of explosions comes up the same day there's an explosion at Grandma Josephine's house. And Caleb delaying her entry, going inside first, and the explosion happening seconds after he closes the door is kinda... kinda sus

Shadowed Man?

I won't rewrite it all here, but I posted this theory about Caleb and the shadowed man Rafayel meets at the Nest.

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 12

I will be honest: if Joris started seriously using this thing he would simply get scared like "WHAT IF I AM GOING TO DIE ON ACCIDENT AND NOT NOTICE DOING TOO MUCH". Also, his pride wouldn't allow him to overindulge.

What I'm getting at, is that his usage of this thing is literally the most in-character, funniest thing that he could have possibly done.

Yes. It's the demons again. I don't actually have anything to add. He looked pretty.

>touch eldritch artifact that feeds on life energy to make people powerful >use it to enhance your nonexistent magical huppermage abilities that were killed both by lack of education and the fact you have a weird fucking dragonized body to summon a tresstump magic wand from a different country >stop using eldritch artifact in any way Literally nobody does it like him. I can just hear him praying that nobody notices or thinks he's weird. But I do. I do.

...If he didn't have The Stump on his mind, he probably wouldn't have stepped anywhere close to this thing.

I thought about how many times Joris has probably had to read out war speeches, to be able to pull something this good sounding out with no preparation, and got a bit sick in the head.

There is nobody better to read out a speech like this, I think. I don't have any thoughts because I am now clinically insane.

At this point, they have discussed the plan for infiltrating the Necro world.

And I keep thinking about the fact that, Just like everyone in this place, Joris has a family to return to and protect (<- taking poison damage actively) and that Joris, like everyone else, is distinctly aware that if they die — not only will their loved ones be sad, they'll also be dead as well.

I really like this little moment of "I really hope you know what you're doing (I don't know what we're doing, and I'm scared)" and the way his voice sounds worried...

I can read complex emotional motivations into ANY Joris dialogue. Just watch me. The worms inside my brain guide me.

The little nod as their plan commences...

If Joris + Sword = Atchan behaviour, then Joris + his stupid log = Kerubim behaviour... From his full-front and full-back pirouettes, to the way he holds positions himself.

As I've said, while it might not be Ankama's intention even now, Joris's fighting style has always resembled Kerubim and Atcham a lot. Which would fit, considering they were probably the ones to actually teach him to fight. (However, by now, I'd be sad if it wasn't their intention...)

Though in the original movie scripts, I'm pretty sure it was Kerubim was the one who actually gave him the log and taught him to use it... So, maybe my jokes about Joris's style in the first seasons are actually pretty-on point and Joris's fighting style has always been based off his?

Whatever the fuck is going on with Joris and Kerubim's bond is at this point, like, written in the fabric of the universe. It's a big comfort to know that the one and only reason I began liking Joris as a character (that reason being his relationship with Kerubim) has always existed in some way

...Ankama please make Kerubim teaching Joris to use the log as a weapon canon already! For years, even before researching movie history, my headcanon has been "Kerubim asked Joris what weapon he'd like to learn to use first — expecting the answer to be something like "a staff" or "a wand" due to Joris's lineage... and Joris responded with "yours :) blunt damage to the bones yippie" which was unexpected but pleasant."

I'm fucking crazy you know. Yugo took Joris's hit... The way Joris softly says "Yugo! :(". The way he immediately rushes at Toross... Friendship is so real and poignant.

Joris "I can't show people they're getting under my skin or that I'm uncomfortable bc that's a sign of weakness" Jurgen saying this is just. you know that he's just fucked. that he's stressed out. and maybe scared of dying. if he was feeling normal, he would not fucking say this.

He probably means this in a "you're not even the 1238423th person that I outlived and defeated to try and get at me like this" but it comes across as "I'm so tired of it".

He's always been disrespected. No matter how hard he tries or how hard he works, everyone just treats him like a child, calls him a little guy at best, a midget at worst — even if he is a politican, even if he is 600 years old. Every person that doesn't know him tutoyers him. Even his family sometimes treats him like a child — albeit for different reasons.

He has 20 mental illnesses, and half of them would be solved by indiscriminately shooting anyone who calls him "petit" or "nabot" or "garçon" with a gun.

[walks into the sea]

On the first watch-through, I genuinely cheered and clapped. Ya!!

Kill him Joris. Kill him and be reborn as a lotus flower.

:(

[ivelle-serenity]

Skateboard 13

Wind breaker

fem bodied reader | smut | action | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | joker/fml | hyuk/fml | owen/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | the other woman (?) | reverse harem | fluff | SLOW BURN! | all characters featured are 18+

author's note: thank you all for waiting!

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

✧˖° — this is a story not one shot.

I knew right away that something had happened earlier while Mia and I were away. From Dom's behavior and the way they looked at us when we arrived, they seemed uneasy. I didn't let on that I noticed their actions. I sighed and ran my fingers through my fake blonde hair. Why do I have the feeling that Gramps told them something about me? Frustration was written all over my face as I walked out of the school with Mia. We immediately saw the boys waiting for us outside by the car.

"I just realized that blonde suits you, Demitra. You look different!" Dom said, watching me as I walked. I glanced at Jay, who was now avoiding looking at me. Relief washed over me; he better keep avoiding me because I literally don't trust myself around him. I can't even control my actions when I'm near him.

"Yeah, but I think I still need to wear a mask. Shelly and I don't have the same features, obviously," I said with a laugh, which Dom awkwardly echoed as he scratched the back of his neck. I looked over at Minu when he held out a hair tie. I furrowed my brows.

"Shelly ties her hair when she rides."

Oh! Of course. How could I forget that?

"Oh, noted. I thought she just liked to show off her beautiful blonde hair to the audience," I joked as I tied my hair. The three guys remained silent, which annoyed me. They know something, I just know it.

"And also, she always wears these gloves. They're her favorite," Mia said excitedly, handing me a pair of black and blue gloves. I almost scoffed. Do I really have to completely imitate her?

"You know, if Shelly were here, she would have liked you as a friend." I felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on me at Mia's words. I froze, staring at her before quickly looking away. I almost tore the gloves I was holding.

"Uh, Mia? Come on, let's head to the car," Minu interjected, though I could hear the panic in his voice and didn't understand why. Confusion was evident on his girlfriend's face, but she went along with him. They had their own car, and I guess I was riding with Jay in Dom's car.

"We should go. We can't be late, guys," June said with a smile as he opened the door for me. I smiled at June. When I noticed that Jay was also getting in the back seat, I immediately moved away.

"I'll sit in the front," I said, opening the door to the passenger seat. Dom's driver looked surprised.

"kid, that's my master's seat—"

"hey, it's alright," Dom said to his driver. "Are you sure you want to sit there? You could sit in the back; it's safer there—"

I cut Dom off when my eyes met Jay's. I laughed and shook my head. "I'm fine here, Dom. Don't worry."

When the car started, I heard June clear his throat. I looked at him through the rearview mirror. I saw Dom and June exchanging signals, seemingly deciding who would speak up. Meanwhile, Jay had his eyes closed, head tilted back, resting against the seat.

"Demitra..." I glanced at June. "Uhh-we've decided that we need to keep you out of sight from the audience, since what we're doing clearly breaks the competition rules," June said cautiously. "We just don’t want you to get into trouble," he added, his concern unmistakable. I felt a comforting warmth in my chest and hoped that his concern was sincere. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions about how much they cared for me, just because they wanted to protect me.

"We know you're really talented, and we can't deny that. Like, come on, you could probably win this right away," Dom said. "But I think it would be better if you stayed behind June, you know..." He couldn't finish his sentence.

"You mean to be just a display, I got it." I chuckled. "And besides, I don’t really plan on taking this too seriously because, as you said, your team is relying on me. One mistake, and I could jeopardize the Hummingbird," I said with a nod. June sighed with relief while Dom watched my face, trying to read my reaction. I avoided his eyes.

"And after this, you won't need me anymore, right? Hopefully, in the next round, they won't require a full team."

"Yeah, we hope so. We don't want to take advantage of your kindness. This is more than enough," June said, and I didn't respond. I could feel my chest tightening. After all of this, I would be out of their circle. Why does it hurt? I don't even talk to them that much. Maybe I'm just used to their presence, their friendship, the laughs, the jokes, everything. I bit my lower lip as I remembered seeing Nick earlier.

There's no way I would stay at that school. I came to Korea specifically to distance myself from anything related to her, so why would I willingly remain in a place that constantly reminds me of that part of my past? Being here was supposed to be a fresh start, a way to escape the shadows of my history.

My mind was a mess. I had no idea what to do after this race. Should I transfer to another school? But where would I go? Or should I leave Korea, knowing that Shelly might come back? Yet, I can’t just pack up and leave with my debt to Wooin still unpaid. It’s not as simple as walking away—I have responsibilities here that I can't ignore

I didn’t realize we had arrived at the League of Street Racing venue until Dom opened the door for me. I thanked him as I stepped out. It was odd that Yuna wasn’t with us—perhaps she had classes to attend. As soon as I exited the car, I was met by a sea of people. I bowed my head and adjusted my face mask, staying close behind Dom and June, who seemed to understand that I preferred to be shielded by them.

I noticed that Jay was standing beside me, so I subtly moved away while looking at the other crews. I couldn't see the Sabbath team, which was a huge relief. I knew Wooin would be furious if he saw me here.

"Stop it." Jay suddenly spoke next to me, startling me. He had been so quiet earlier. What's up with him now? Wait, was he talking to me? "You’re supposed to stick close to me." His cold voice sent a shiver up my spine. My ears grew warm, and I looked away.

"So she's clingy, huh?" I teased.

He glared at me, but his eyes weren’t angry. It was just...there was no emotion. As usual. "Don’t avoid me. It’s too obvious." He turned his gaze away from me. I almost let out a sigh. I had no choice but to move closer to him. Our arms touched. I looked up at him, checking if what I did was okay, but he had no reaction, as if he expected me to do it.

"Why did the crowd suddenly get bigger?" Dom asked irritably, running a hand through his hair.

"GO HUMMINGBIRD! WE LOVE YOU!" Girls were cheering, obviously for Jay, not the whole crew. How did I know? They were literally looking at Jay with stars in their eyes. Damn, this boy is popular.

"I know. That's why we need to be careful," June whispered to us. I just nodded.

"Isn't it just me, or has Shelly shrunk?" I winced at the comment.

"Ha," I scoffed. "They even memorize your team's height. Can you believe it?" I murmured to Jay. I didn’t expect him to respond because I knew he wouldn’t.

The MC took to the stage, and the crowd erupted with excitement. I glanced at the big screen, which was showing us and the other crews. The Monsters were here, and I’d heard they were quite skilled. If I weren’t here to replace Shelly, I’d love to compete against them. They seemed interesting.

"ARE YOU ALL EXCITED FOR THIS NEW ROUND?" the MC shouted, prompting the crowd to yell even louder. "I know, I know. It's been so long, and I know you’ve all been waiting for this to happen again. And let me tell you, this round is not just any round. It will make your jaw drop!"

Everyone screamed in excitement. I straightened up, my eyes narrowing as I noticed a box in the middle of the stage. It seemed the MC was about to draw a name. My mind immediately started hoping that Hummingbird wouldn’t be chosen, even though I didn’t know what it was for yet.

"As you can see, there's a box here. I'm going to draw to see which team will face the most challenging and dangerous test where they won’t have an opponent! YES! YOU HEARD ME RIGHT! They won’t be racing against anyone else; they just need to complete the bloodiest race of all!"

My heart stopped at the announcement. My eyes widened as the screen showed the narrowest path I’d ever seen in my life. Not only that, but there were massive vehicles there, and there was a bowl where the bike had to ride along the wall to get out. You can only see it in a skatepark. This is...weird. Out of all the videos I’ve watched about the League of Street Racing, none of the rounds were like this.

I glanced to the side of the stage and saw a man in a black hoodie and facemask. When he noticed I was looking at him, he turned away. I poked the inside of my cheek with my tongue in frustration. I smelled something fishy here.

“We're so dead,” Dom muttered under his breath.

"The mechanics for this race are simple: you must reach the finish line within the given time, which is only 3 minutes! Every member of your team needs to make it to the finish line, and if even one is left behind, your team will be immediately disqualified. The crew will not be able to continue to the next round," the MC said with a grin, swirling his hand inside the box filled with papers.

"Are they crazy? Why would they do something like this?!" I hissed, frustration etched across my face. June looked troubled, while Dom seemed deep in thought. I glanced at Jay, who was now watching the MC prepare to draw the first team to race.

"You're the only one with experience for this," Dom said, drawing everyone's attention. "I know it sounds like we're asking a lot, but you're our only chance to get everyone across the finish line—"

"Dom—" Jay tried to interrupt, but Dom spoke again.

"Jay, can't you see that? That's a race of death. Demitra is our only chance, so stop complicating things. Come on, man," he snapped at his friend. I was taken aback by his urgency and raised my hand to stop them from arguing.

"Hey, what's going on here? Just chill. We're at a race," I interjected. "I may have experience, but that's not the only key to reaching the finish line." I sighed and looked at the big screen. "All we need is to help each other. Dom, you're our sprinter. Do you remember what I taught you last time about the positions to control your speed better?" I asked, and he nodded.

"The top tube safe is a position you can use to get out of the bowl section quickly. I know you're scared of the curve, but believe me, once you do this, you'll be on the surface in no time," I explained. I got on the bike to demonstrate the position to June. "This position can increase your speed by 17%. It may look scary, but it's safer on a bike than on a skateboard."

"Noted. All I need to do is get into that position and close my eyes, right?" I sensed the fear in his voice.

I shook my head in amusement. "I mean, you can try, but I don't think you can close your eyes. It would only make your fear worse."

I turned to June. "Don't worry about me, Demitra. I was listening while you were teaching Dom. I've got it."

I sighed in relief. I was startled when Jay approached me and tightened my helmet on my head. "You may excel at this, but you still need to be careful. This isn't a skatepark," My heart raced faster.

"I don't need to teach you, right?" I whispered with a teasing tone. He held my gaze.

"All I need is to finish this race and for you to be careful. We don't want you to get hurt." We? Or him? It's like he's using his friends as an excuse. Oh, come on! I can't believe I'm thinking this way. What is he doing to me?

"I'm more capable than you think." I wanted to tell him that I've experienced more dangerous races than this one, but he doesn't need to know that.

"I know." I froze and stared at him. His words seemed to carry deeper meaning, as if he was hinting at something.