#OOF a lot of these hit home.

[godkilller]

memories of childhood

repost. don't reblog. bold what applies. italicize what sometimes applies.

scraped knees, silent tears in a locked room, slamming doors, pervasive loneliness, a dog barking, rain on a metal roof, flinching at movement, the creak of an old house, forced laughter, wandering in the dark woods, wondering how you made it through, sudden loss, trying to make sense of the noise, hiding what you love to protect it, trying to explain but your words falter, invaded privacy, confusion at the pain, running barefoot in the grass, wondering what you did wrong and coming up with nothing, realizing you aren’t a priority, grass stains on white clothing, trying to earn love you will never have, being threatened over the smallest mistake, secrets you are warned not to share, the feeling of never being good enough, the hope things might someday get better, grief that aches in your bones, childish dares and pranks, the sense that your body isn’t yours, shame and guilt that aren’t yours to carry, sledding down a frozen hill, absentmindedly following snakes through the grass, punching a tree until your knuckles bleed, tears over every dead creature you find, searching out small places you can hide… just in case, climbing the tallest tree so they can’t touch you, the feeling of something tainted under your skin, a curious child told to stop asking, floral dresses, body tensing at approaching footsteps, anger with nowhere to go, brief escapes from the chaos, the purr of a contented cat, taking the blame to keep the peace, being told you’re too sensitive, the creaking springs of a trampoline on a sunny day.

tagged by: i stole it from @zealctry, thank you! tagging: @keikakudori, @dokuhai, @owabisuru / @gyakusama, @madestars / @rejekshun, and anyone else!

[kingxlionhart]

ough. i have thoughts on my rufus. i don't typically go into my thoughts on him/explore his character, typically just writing silly things or more lighthearted plotlines, but like... i really have thoughts.

it's pretty long. so yeet. a lot of speculation/kind of rambly, this is a post of me getting ideas in one spot. i'll probably expand on things later! but yeah.

potentially triggering content -- talk of abuse, neglect

like... yeah. his father wasn't around like he should have been, even had rufus in a separate house + had others raising rufus FOR HIM after rufus' mom left, but the fact that he (and im sure others) groomed rufus into taking over as president from an early age. while even if there was that chance that it could've gone to lazard instead, that's all rufus was ever going to be. even if he got to work other jobs before that, he never had a choice in what he got to do. with some of his experiences in shinra, he's very aware of how bad the place is. there's a resigned acceptance as he takes over, it's his responsibility. if he doesn't. someone worse will. he has to scramble to fix his father's mistakes.

the abuse and neglect. his father was not a stellar father, and maybe it's because reginald wasn't exactly shown how to be a good dad, but it doesn't matter. he was a bad father to rufus, he hurt his kid. it's physical and mental abuse -- leaving rufus with injuries he often had to hide. he got very good at relocating dislocated body parts. as well, ignoring and dismissing rufus' feelings. telling rufus to toughen up, not even trying to validate rufus' feelings and generally pushing rufus into the idea that maybe it was just rufus' fault. more things here, obvious signs of neglect and abuse, but it deeply affected rufus. he has severe trust issues, can't form or maintain new relationships, and so on. there's a long list. it's bad.

hypervigilance -- a result of trauma. constantly on edge, assessing threats around him. major trust issues, and mild people pleasing habits (these died very fast, but are pretty bad with the people he's close to). struggling with his own needs and suppressing parts of himself to avoid conflict.

his avoidant behavior may also be a result of his hypervigilance but im putting it separately because i DO want to look into this and explore options because i have mixed feelings. it might not be avoidant behavior. but the note is here for me.

the lack of autonomy -- procedures he didn't consent to. experiments in the lab. choices being made for rufus even though he is perfectly capable of making choices for himself. he's very protective of himself as an adult.

[my-chemical-rot]

Do you know how unnerving it is to wake up abruptly in the middle of the night finding yourself involuntarily muttering aloud “before it gets better darkness gets bigger the person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger…” or “there’s a room in hotel New York City… shares our fate and deserves… pity…”

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 6

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, you get your very own samantha from her (2013) lol, time skips as a plot device!, this has an arc i promise, if anybody here plays disco elysium you’ll find that i took concepts of “the pale” as inspo at some points in this chapter lmao A/N: Oof this one’s a little longer than any of the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 (and just a heads up, this might be the last chapter I post before I kick it off for the holidays. advance happy holidays! if you guys celebrate that sort of thing.) 

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

There’s a quiet stillness brought by the morning after that makes the problems of a heavier night seem like a fairly distant memory. 

For at least a few minutes past the moment you blink away the stubborn grit in your eyes—you don’t remember the last time you’ve been this well-rested in ages—you lie, listless, on the soft powder-blue bedding of your twin-size mattress, watching specks of dander and dust drift from the amber sunlight that filters through the cracked panes of the casement window. 

It floats aimlessly; unhurried. Much like you.

The echo of last night’s events return to you in sporadic flashes—fragmented and unsteady. The whispered exchanges, the playful banter between you and your unlikely conversation partner play back in your mind, like some half-finished supercut. 

And the more you recall, the more awake you feel, chipping away the last traces of daytime lethargy weighing you down. 

“So, what happens now?”

The sound of a car backfiring breaks through from the outside, like a starting pistol signalling the beginning of another day. A familiar, heavy weight presses against your side, and you thread your fingers through the scraggly fur of the purring feline who’s taken the empty space on your left, just above the covers. 

You breathe in deeply, closing your eyes. 

“I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

You realize how many questions still linger, a lot more left unanswered. Far more than what you were able to glean, at least. From what little you’ve learned, an entirely new moral dilemma emerges—one you never imagined you'd have to contend with. 

There’s a lot of things you’ve never expected to happen. Yet here you are. 

“Seems we’re at an impasse.” 

It’s an odd thing in itself. You keep waiting for the disbelief to catch up, for a shred of sanity to surface and make you reject the situation you’ve found yourself entangled in. You should be feeling the same, pesky feelings that pulled you sharply out of your flight of fancy last night; a sense of trepidation for what lies ahead in this precarious game of two. 

But instead, you’re here. Now fully awake, and already looking forward to the day with wary acceptance. Looking forward to resuming where you’ve left off with that charming anomaly who’s upended your world, and left you suspended in an exhilarating limbo of uncertainty and excitement.

“...Indeed.”

You crave it—like the first stirrings of a neophyte druggie teetering on the edge of an irreversible habit. 

You need another hit. 

“Why the long face, little dove?”

Because if desire could manifest into being, it would’ve been Sylus. 

“We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

You pick up your phone. 

––––

“You’re here? Make yourself at home.” 

You look at him, deadpan. He looks back at you serenely. 

Your voice takes on a dry monotone when you respond, “Keep talking like that, I’m about to cum.” 

There’s a shocked silence; then—

Sylus barks out a surprised laugh, immediately breaking character. 

You snort. “Good morning to you too, I guess.” 

He meets your gaze with a look of scandalized amusement, his smile wide enough to flash teeth. 

"Good morning, indeed."

––––

You two fall into a natural rhythm even before the day comes to a close. Perceptive as he is, Sylus hasn’t let you linger in the unease left over from last night any longer than necessary—which to say, should be left buried and forgotten, past its provenance. 

“So you could, like–hypothetically, top up my ascension materials… indefinitely?” There’s a manic shine to your eyes when you confront him back at the home screen, gleeful and triumphant after you boost almost all the 5-star cards you have of him up to max level. “Like an infinite glitch?” 

He’s content to just simply listen to your excited chatter from his languid perch on the seat, one palm resting against the side of his face as he watches you—half-lidded and relaxed. Utterly entertained by your antics.

The slight twitching of his mouth, the subtle tilt of his head… each minute shift in his expression makes a whole world of difference from the version you’ve known him longest—almost a lifetime ago. 

Now he acts so human, so alive, that it’s almost unreal. 

(It’s almost imperceptible, but you swear the air also feels different; like the pixelated space around him is bending, stretching, to accommodate this newer him.) 

“Sure,” he shrugs, lips quirking up into a half-smile as he notices the deep crease forming between your brows. 

He knows the question you’re about to ask—curious thing that you are.

“How, though? Like, what are ‘materials’ to you?” You make air quotes with your fingers, making you appear all the more endearing to him look at, in your process to make sense of a world that’s unfamiliar to you.

“Think of it as upgrades,” Sylus explains patiently. “You place the order to modify the equipment I use, in whichever situation calls for it.”

“And Memory Cards?”

“... A video reel, maybe. Or a restricted case file—locked until you’ve got enough to trade for the information you want.”

“And I suppose the dealer in question here is you?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who else?”

“Huh,” you say, considering. “So, Deepspace Trials. That’s something you do on the daily? Because I… make you?”

“More or less.”

“And you never thought to question that?” 

“Mm, maybe I’ll start charging for my services this time around.”

You roll your eyes, already accepting his analogy for what it is. “Oh, please. With the amount of money I’ve spent on this game, consider yourself paid in full.” 

––––

You were right about your earlier prediction—this new Sylus in combat mode is something else. 

For starters, he’s a lot chattier.

“Ouch, kitten– don’t charge in like that.”

“Why are you using a sword? Don’t you like the guns I’ve given you specifically for this?” 

“What are you waiting for? Make her resonate with me now.” 

And, instead of sticking to his lines and responding to whatever the MC’s programmed to say during battle, he focuses on whatever you’re fussing over—no matter how… moronic it is.

“Ah, fuck! I hate that spinning thing!” 

“Move, then. Let me handle it.” 

“Block it, block it!”

“I would, if you weren’t halfway across the field. Stick closer to your partner next time, yeah?” 

He doesn’t say any of his usual lines. Nothing from his scripted prompts. When all Wanderers are defeated, there’s no post-battle banter between him and the MC. 

“Goddamn, you’re strong!” You whoop giddily, completely energized by straight winning almost twelve Orbit trials in a row. I guess that’s what a fully awakened Solar pair gets you, huh? 

Sylus lets out a chuckle, infected by your enthusiasm. He doesn’t sound the least bit winded, despite all the damned fighting you’ve put him through.

“We make a good team,” he allows. And because he likes the little nose scrunch you do when you’re annoyed— “Although your dodging really needs more practice, sweetie.” 

Before you could think of a comeback, the pop-up window for the next stage comes up. Ass.

––––

Come Monday morning and you’re once again swamped with work. 

You barely have enough time to scrounge something up for lunch—if it weren’t for the persistent reminders from Sylus, chiming in every five minutes once the digital clock on your phone had hit eleven-thirty, you’d probably skip eating altogether.

And make something else than just boiling a pot of instant ramen, sweetheart. You’re on track for an early grave at this rate. 

“I could… add an egg?” You suggest, unsure. “Maybe cut up some tofu, make it gourmet?”  

He doesn’t even dignify the egg suggestion with a response. Tofu’s a good start. Now, what else do you have in your pantry that has nutritional value? 

“I despise that,” you mutter, but start rifling through the cupboards anyway. 

After amassing enough ingredients—or what looks more like a sad pile—that might, with some effort, turn into something healthier than your usual go-to fix, you start Googling recipes online.

‘tofu easy lunch recipe’

‘10 mins tofu recipes’   

‘begginer recipe using tofu frozen dory mixed veg—’ Ping!

… Really, kitten? 

You don’t even have to see him to know he’s giving you that look, the one that’s practically dripping with judgment over your dubious life choices. 

(You know it all too well. Personally, in fact. You see it on some relatives' faces at the family get-togethers you’re always required to attend.) 

Great. Heat creeps up your face as you mumble defensively, “Stop. Not everyone’s a culinary genius, okay?”

After that, he lets you be – something you’re thankful for, really. He’s being too distracting anyway. 

Swallowing down the–stubborn and suffocating–embarrassment that's now stuck in your throat, you keep scrolling through Tasty dot co, praying you can whip up something edible with what (little) you have. You’re fully aware that you’re a grown-ass woman who can’t manage a basic life skill and that you’re probably about to burn down your kitchen—

Another notification pops up.

Pull up your tabs, sweetie. I think you’ll find something there that we could put together easily.

Confused, you do as he says. Sure enough, four tofu-related recipes are neatly grouped together in your Chrome browser, ready to be tried and tested.  

Your eyes widen. “Wait—you did this? How?”

He doesn’t answer your question. He does, however, offer: Want me to coach you through it? Cooking’s more fun done with a partner, I’d say. 

-

-

In the end, you manage to make something that tasted way better than you thought you could do by yourself. You have him to thank for that.

“You happy with it?” Sylus asks, grinning at the satisfied look on your face.

“Mhm!” you hum around a mouthful of food. “Fanks, Sy.”

“Anytime, darling.”

––––

“Do you really have to call me ‘kitten’? You sound like a Discord mod.” 

Sylus has no idea what a Discord mod is, but judging by the contempt in your voice, it’s clear that you’re not giving him a compliment.

"What do you prefer, then? Princess? Poppet? Sweet thing?" He pauses, tilting his head. "Baby?"

You blush and look away. "... Ugh, whatever. Kitten's fine."

––––

Your routine with Sylus settles into a seamless, effortless flow as the days go by; it’s almost second nature, talking to him. So much so that you’d think nothing could faze you anymore.

Well. Almost nothing. 

A message bubble from an unknown number appears on your lock screen: Hi, sweetheart. X

You almost ignore it—brushing it off as some dumb prank from a bored rando—when, not even five seconds later, another text pops up. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Its Sylus.

… Huh? 

“Is someone fucking with me right now, or…” 

+0063-XXXXXX: Nobodys ‘fucking with you,’ kitten. 

Then–

+0063-XXXXXX: Send a reply so I can see how it shows up on my end.

Your jaw drops. “Holy shit—you can text?? How are you doing that?” and, “Did you just cuss...?” 

+0063-XXXXXX: 👍

+0063-XXXXXX: And Ill let you know if you text me the question 🙄

So you do. You tack on a now spill?? at the end for good measure. 

You watch the “typing…” bubble appear, holding your breath.

+0063-XXXXXX: Its a complex mix of technical code and harnessing the energy from a dormant protofield Ive discovered, just south of Vagrants Land.  

+0063-XXXXXX: The energy I got from it felt different somehow from your normal protofield. I figured I could put it to good use. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Oddly enough, theres an… indescribable effect to oneself when youre nearing the centre of disturbance, shall we say. 

+0063-XXXXXX: I can only decrypt the waveforms by the rarefield border surrounding the AoR. Any further and Im afraid the adverse effects may do more harm than good.

+0063-XXXXXX: But if amplified, it seems responsive to the filament of what connects your signal from deep space to this planet.

+0063-XXXXXX: Who knew it could act as a transmitter to send you something as rudimentary as a telegraph? 

… Sometimes you forget how smart Sylus really is. 

You: that’s pretty amazing ?? wtf sylus  

+0063-XXXXXX: I get by OK. 

You could practically feel his smugness radiating from those four words. You scoff, shaking your head in a mix of awe and begrudging admiration.

He sends two more messages. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Im just glad we can communicate through other means, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now save my number. Sy Sy will suffice 😉

––––

Since your latest discovery that Sylus can now text (!!), you’ve been talking to him outside the game non-stop. It’s like talking to a very active friend who never leaves you on read, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic. 

You: so no one else in ur universe knows anything abt ur situation?

You: no one else acting funny or sumn ? >.>

Sy-Sy (??): None that I know of, no. I prefer to keep it under wraps. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now that you mention it, Mephisto has been acting quite suspicious lately. 

You: ?? suspicious-suspicious or just reg suspicious??

Sy-Sy (??): Hes with his other crow friends now. They might be attempting a murder. 

You: ………. is that…. supposed 2 be a joke……….

Sy-Sy (??): Im running on 3 hours of sleep, give me a break.   

Sy-Sy (??): Also your textspeak is horrendous, sweetie. 

"Um, hello—?" 

Your gaze snaps back to the–very real, very present–person sitting across from you at the table, sporting box-dyed blue hair and a frown. You're at the Annex House; a sleek, new-age Japandi-style bar downtown, just an easy five stations away from your place. You both decided to try it for their infamous Rotten Apple cocktail and, of course, your weekly catch-up.

Khol, your friend of eight years since college, is currently giving you a mildly annoyed look.

Oops. 

They point at you accusingly while complaining, "Ugh, we don’t use our phones when we’re hanging out! That’s the rule!"

You smile at them, sheepish, pocketing your phone as discreetly as you could. “I know, I know. Sorry.” 

Then, puffing out your cheeks, you meekly ask, “You were talking about Anna...?”

They roll their eyes but go over the gossip a second time, much to your benefit. Phew.

Your phone vibrates. Twice. 

…

You sneak a quick, final peek.

Sy-Sy (??): Enjoy your night out, darling ❤️ 

Sy-Sy (??): You let me know when youre back home, OK? 

Biting back a grin, you send out one last text in reply. 

You: will do !:9 

Sy-Sy (??): Good girl. 

––––

"Um–so this is my cat, Maru," you say by way of introduction, holding the plump, orange tabby in front of your phone that’s propped up against a carton of Koko Krunch. There’s a slight struggle in lifting his left paw between your fingers to wave at the man on the other side of the screen. "Say hi, Maru."

“Hello, Maru,” Sylus greets amicably in return, watching the both of you with clear amusement in his eyes. “Care to tell me the origin of this proud beast?” 

You recount the story where you’ve first seen Maru five years ago, nothing more than a scraggly little runt at the time, hiding in the gap between a dumpster and the interstice of a cragged wall. You were walking home from a night out drinking with your uni buddies, when you heard the incessant meowing. 

It drew you in like a siren’s call. If the siren in question had the vocal prowess of a warbling whale on the brink of death.

Upon closer inspection, the grimy fluffball revealed a stubby, crooked tail and wide, beady eyes. In your alcohol-fueled haze, you briefly wondered if you were staring at a tiny ginger rat.

“Well, it’s definitely all cat,” your friend Bee declared by noon the following day, calmly retracting a scratched and bloodied hand from the disgruntled feline, which promptly hissed and darted right back under the bed.

You hummed in agreement, passing her a wad of tissue. 

"I couldn’t decide between Nospurratu and Catpin Meow," you say matter-of-factly, giving your capricious son a scritch under his chin. "Bee suggested I stick to something simpler, like Maru. Hence the name."

Your explanation is punctuated by an offended nip on your pointer finger. 

Sylus is covering his mouth, but nods solemnly. “I think Maru is a nice name.” 

There’s a moment where the two seem locked in a silent standoff, neither breaking eye contact nor making any sort of outward reaction. Just as you’re about to step in and interrupt the bizarre staring contest, Maru gives a slow, deliberate blink.

Sylus takes it as a sign of victory—or perhaps a ceremonial seal of approval.

 With a faint smirk on his lips, he offers the cat a small bow in respect.

––––

You’ve practically emptied the entire arcade of plushies—enough to put it out of business if it were actually, you know, real—and you’re bored to tears. 

“Another round of Kitty Cards, perhaps?” Sylus suggests, but a single glance at your face is enough to let him know that you’d rather gnaw off your own hand. Or his. He might just let you.

Sighing dramatically, you complain about the limited playability of the “mini-games” in-game.

“There’s literally nothing else to do. Same old shit, over and over again.” There’s a pout on your face that Sylus wants to nibble on, not that you’re aware of the forming thoughts in his head. “No new banners. I’m stuck between Kitty Cards and the claw machines... I’m bored, Syyyyy,” you whine, stretching the last syllable for effect.  

To be fair, he has tried to make it a bit more challenging for you. He stopped fucking around during Kitty Cards—no more extra two cards in exchange for one of yours, no longer placing different colored kitties deliberately in the wrong cups. 

After six straight losses, your frustration is palpable. The fun is gone.

He makes audible commentaries during each of your six tries at the claw machine. Every time you manage to snag a plushie, he praises you for a job well done (It flusters you—not that he needs to know that). When your luck runs out and you grab onto nothing but air, he wryly points it out through some slight ribbing, but nothing that’s actually hurtful (This flusters you too—again, not that he needs to know any of this).   

There’s nothing else to do. It’s like you’ve exhausted all you could in this small, curated window of his that you’re privy to. If only there’s a way to leave the mini-games behind, to do something new, perhaps outside of what the game has to offer…

Oh, wait. 

“Hey, Sy,” you call the man to attention. “Wanna try something out?” 

-

-

You beat him at Words with Friends by a small margin.

“Ha! That’s thirty-nine points, buddy.” You crow proudly, after putting down Devotees in a straight column.

He eviscerates you at Zynga Poker. 

“... How are you so good at this??” 

“Comes with the package, sweetie,” he says with faux-modesty after revealing (yet another!!) full house, winking like he hasn’t just wiped the floor with you.

By the end of it, both of you are in high spirits—except, maybe, for your bruised ego.

––––

“Say my name, say my name… If no one is around you, say baby I love you…”

“It’s nice to know that we have another thing in common, little dove.”

 

It takes you a moment to process what he’s implying. 

You stop singing, affronted. “Wh—how dare you.” 

––––

“Are you having fun?” Sylus asks, his tone droll as he stands there, hands on his hips and a small scowl on his face. You’re too busy spinning him around, thoroughly entertained by the number of outfits and accessories you’ve forced upon your slightly reluctant model in the photoshoot that's currently taking place.

It’s more amusing, knowing that he’s fully-aware of what’s happening. And that you know he’s aware of what’s happening. 

He’s like your personal, sentient Ken doll—if Ken had ashy grey hair, red eyes, and a mercurial attitude.

“I am, actually,” you shoot back, grinning as you plop a tomato stuffie on top of his head. “Look, you two match!” 

He exhales a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Not that it stops you. Fluffy bunny ears, a fish headband, an uncharacteristic halo—you’re relentless. “Hey, can you try a different pose?”

“That depends on the pose… and how nicely you ask.”

“Dear Sylus,” you sing, jutting your bottom lip forward and fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly, “could you please, pretty please, flip the camera off?”

He snorts but obliges, raising his hand to deliver the most effortlessly cool middle finger you’ve ever seen. “Happy?”

Woah. That’s… hot. “Oh! Uh. Yeah. Yeah, that’s—”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your reaction. You giggle nervously. “You look… hot.”

“Mm?” His smirk grows, teasing and predatory. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you blurt out, but the pinking of your cheeks betrays you. He’s definitely enjoying this now.

“I could be convinced to do another one,” he murmurs, voice pitching a little lower.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say the first thing that comes to mind. Stop, you whore. 

Your nerves get the best of you. Without thinking, you switch to putting the MC back on screen. 

Sylus blinks, red eyes narrowing as he looks at you, perplexed. 

“Uh,” you shift your gaze between her frozen stance and his idle figure. The sudden silence hangs a little heavy in the air. “Would–would you like to do poses? With her?”

He opens his mouth, an automatic response—but he stops, expression flickering into something unreadable. Confusion? Hesitation? 

His brows knit together, and for a short while, he just studies you, the space between you thick with unspoken questions. 

“Do you want me to?” he asks finally, his voice quieter, almost careful.

No–I don’t want you to— To pose with someone who looks so-–

perfectperfectperfect by your side—I only want to see you—

I want to see you––

Why do I care–?

I don’t care––I care, I care so much–– 

“Why not?” you choke out, the forced cheer in your voice grating even to your own ears. You shrug, nonchalant in all the ways you’re not. “I’ll dress her up real nice, and then—” You slap a pink bow onto his head. “You can try to keep up.” 

He doesn’t move, not paying the offending accessory any attention. His gaze is solely locked onto yours. 

I don’t care. I don’t. 

You take the first shot. 

____

“What’s the song you’re playing?”

You pause mid-mop, cocking your head to the side in slight surprise. 

“Uhh—Pedestal,” you answer unsurely. “By Portishead. You like it?” 

He hums, eyes glinting with interest. “I do. Play the rest.” 

And just like that, you’re introducing Sylus to modern twenty-first century music—and to Spotify.

____

From that point on, Sylus begins using your Spotify account to discover a whole new world of music—quite literally, in his case. Sometimes he steals the control from you, overriding what you’re currently listening to, just to hear the most random track play from your speakers.

In the middle of a mundane afternoon while you're completely locked in at work—hyperpop synths blaring in your ears—you’re suddenly jolted by the sound of heavy mandolins as an honest-to-god Russian military march blasts through your headphones, shattering your focus like a damn rhino in a china shop. 

And so with the level of patience that could put the Virgin Mary to shame, you painstakingly explain to your friend the courtesy of not stealing the proverbial AUX cord from the “driver,” especially when it’s their turn on the radio. 

The two of you reach a compromise, and thus the birth of your “shared” playlist. Sylus reluctantly agrees to explore on his own time—when you’re not using the app. Like when you’re busy with other things. Or when you're asleep. 

-

-

-

You wake up to the first strings of a Muse song. One of your favorites, in fact. 

Sy-Sy (??): Good morning, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Last night was enlightening. I have you to thank for that.

Sy-Sy (??): Oh, and I hope you could indulge me. I added some songs to our playlist. I think youll like them. We both seem to have a thing for alt-rock.

Sy-Sy (??): Give me time and Im sure Ill acquire a taste for electronic music too. Be patient. 

You huff out a laugh, lazily rolling over as you check your shared playlist. Sure enough, there’s twelve new songs on it.   

You: awe that’s great sy :)) and these songz r rly good !! u got sum of my faves here

You: based on what u like maybe u can try looking up sum david bowie, probz massive attack idk 

You: i’ll add stuff later for u to listen 2!!! <2

You: <3* 

Sy-Sy (??): Alright, sweetheart. Im looking forward to it. 

Sy-Sy (??): ♥️

____

From the outside, the studio is just another unit among endless rows of dull grey—small and unassuming. Tucked away on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, it’s built as unremarkable as the rest.

Through a window stained with a mix of corrosive ochre and burnt sienna, there’s a quiet hum—the presence of something that wasn’t there a week ago. Life has shifted, ever so subtly, from an oppressive achroma to a much warmer vibrancy.  

There’s a faint hint of movement. Inside, the young woman wears an almost-permanent smile, her phone an extension of her hand as she taps away with no semblance of rhyme nor rhythm—only in a continuous staccato. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as if drawn by an invisible force.

It’s elusive; this connection—something beyond. Supranatural. It weaves through the room like whispered secrets shared in the dead of the night, beneath a city blanketed in deep ultramarine. Soft, like a wind brushing through a still everglade. 

The apartment, once steeped in a self-inflicted solitude—one that went by unnoticed for a long period of time—comes alive as an intangible presence fills its nooks and crannies with the steady warmth of companionship. There’s a gentle heat to the space now, like the glow of an invisible hearth. 

The flickering of the string lights, the muted laughter shared with a voice through the tinny speakers of a handheld device, a slight signal interference… all feel like the genesis of an impossible story.

Outside, the evening sky is fading into twilight.

And as one looks out onto the street below from the sixth floor window, it’s almost as if the world outside doesn’t quite matter anymore. 

Inside, the air is full of life, in ways it has never been. 

____

“Come to me, just in a dream

Come on and rescue me

Yes, I know I can be wrong

And maybe you’re too headstrong

Our love is––”

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @tinyweebsstuff @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean

(if..... for some damn reason..... the tags still don't work i rly don't know what i'm doing wrong T_T i'm posting this from a macbook is that it, is the ghost of steve jobs fucking with me rn)

[youarewhatyoulove-blog]

the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

OR

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with a gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

[ur-sick-and-married]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU • PAIGE BUECKERS

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?

🎵: Do I Wanna Know? covered by Hozier

TW: suggestive, angst, reader is an alcoholic, usage of Y/N, mentions of nausea and vomiting

SUMMARY: you get drunk to avoid running back to your ex…but tonight it brought you right to her.

A/N: I went to a UConn game the other day!

How many times were you going to find yourself in this situation? You were strolling around the crowded house, searching for anyone that would have you. You were drunk again, like you were most nights.

You did this a lot now; get wasted and hookup with strangers. The alcohol allowed you to loosen up, finally find some peace, and the hookups kept you feeling useful and pleasured.

The two of those things also kept you from groveling at the knees of UConn’s best female guard.

You and Paige had been in a serious relationship. You loved that woman. She was the best thing that ever happened to you.

But you’d fucked up. Your love for booze had scared her off. She got sick of attending parties every weekend, sick of having to take away the bottle, sick of dragging you from parties, sick of pushing you off at home when your drunk self tried to start something, sick of nursing your nasty hangovers. She had told you to chill, promised you movie nights and dates instead of parties.

You never listened, so eventually she sat you down and, with a lot of difficulty, ended things. It had become too much for her. She needed to focus on school and basketball. It was her last year in college, after all. She wanted to make it count.

Without Paige, your need for alcohol only grew, which is how you found yourself in the middle of a frat party. Things had been usual, until someone screamed and everyone started fleeing. You knew what this meant; cops. You started running, too. If the police got you, you were screwed. Chugging drink after drink was fun, until the idea of getting caught came up.

You stumbled through the woods behind the house. This was where people typically ran, but you were alone. Maybe you were going the wrong way? You could see lights up ahead, so you went towards those. If there was civilization, you could find your way home. Once you made it through the trees, you found yourself in a campus that you quickly recognized…UConn.

Well, you thought, at least you knew your way around.

You started wandering, your phone in hand, waiting until you had good enough WiFi to get an Uber.

When you first heard the sound, you thought you were imagining it. Surely it was just the sound you associated with the school.

Nope…when the small, outdoor court came into view, you realized there was someone dribbling a basketball.

That someone was Paige Bueckers.

What were the chances?! You needed to go, before she saw you. You turned around fast, and tripped over your own feet. Your body hit the grass with a small “oof” sound escaping your lips.

“Y/N?!” Paige called when she saw you.

She was at your side within a second, immediately trying to get you up.

“Hi, Paige…” You said awkwardly, trying not to slur.

“The hell are you doing here?” She asked as she pulled you to your feet easily.

“I was…in town.” You shrugged.

She was gonna say something else, when her nose wrinkled. “Jesus…you smell like beer.”

It clicked in her brain just then. You opened your mouth to lie again, but all that came out was a shaky, alcohol scented breath.

“Ar you drunk?” She asked quietly.

“Just…a little bit.” You mumbled.

“Bullshit!” She exclaimed abruptly. “You’re wasted, aren’t you?!”

“I didn’t mean to be!” You yelped.

“Sure.” She scoffed. “You accidentally took a few shots? Chugged some beer? Drank some soda that you didn’t know had vodka in it?!”

You huffed, not knowing what to say. She was always right when it came to this.

“I just need to get home…” You whispered shakily.

“Where were you?” She whispered back.

“Party.”

“Hm. It’s early for you to leave a party.”

“Cops.”

An awkward silence passed. She watched you fight intoxicated tears.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” She sighed.

“Could you…get me a ride?” You said. “I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“Where are you going? Home?” She asked.

You nodded.

“What if you go out again, huh? The bar? The club?”

“I’m super tired, Paige.” You shook your head. “I’m not going out.”

“You think I’m gonna believe you?” She scoffed. “You’ve pulled that shit before.”

“Then what are you gonna do?” You said, frustrated.

She sighed again, dragging a hand down her face.

“You’ll stay with me.” She announced. “Just for tonight.”

You froze. Really? Your ex would be the one taking you home?

“Come on.” She said, hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s go. It’s getting cold.”

She led you back to her apartment. You were a bit unsteady, starting to feel the negative effects of the alcohol.

“Don’t you have roommates?” You asked once you were inside her building.

“They don’t mind.” She waved that off. “Just be quiet and they won’t care.”

“We shouldn’t do this…” You said.

Usually when you got drunk, you were all over her, insisting she go home with you.

You knew better by now.

“Don’t worry about it.” Paige said softly. “I just…I can’t let you go home alone right now.”

The both of you went up to her dorm. She pulled out her keys and opened the door, inviting you in. When you struggled to slip your shoes off, feeling unsteady, she knelt down to get them off for you.

“You feeling sick?” She whispered.

“Uh…not really.” You replied, despite that fact that your head was spinning.

Paige saw right through the lie.

“Go in my room.” She told you. “I’ll be right there.”

You quietly went to her bedroom, remembering where it was, of course. You perched awkwardly on the edge of her bed, waiting.

Paige came in a few minutes later, after convincing her roommates they they wouldn’t be hearing any grotesque noises. She carried a small trash bag and a glass of water.

“Drink up.” She instructed, giving you the cup. She then placed the bag in your lap. “And if you have to puke, do it in there.”

“Thanks.” You muttered.

She knelt down in front of you, looking at you with those insanely blue eyes. “C’mon…drink.”

You took a few sips of the water. You knew she was being helpful, but the water kind of made you want to throw up.

“Just hold onto that bag.” Paige said when she noticed your facial expression.

She stood up, and walked over to her closet. After digging around for a moment, she came back with a t-shirt and comfy shorts. The shirt looked so familiar…you suddenly realized why.

You would always steal her clothes when you were a couple. She often found her hoodies in your bedroom, her sweatpants (which were actually ginormous on you because she was so tall), mixed with your laundry. You rarely hid it well. Sometimes you’d just show up at her place in her clothes.

Your favorite thing to steal was one of her March Madness shirts. It was very comfy, and a reminder of how amazing Paige and her team were. So when she gave you the shirt that drunken night? You quickly burst into tears.

“What? What’s wrong?” Paige asked worriedly.

“You…you remembered.” You sniffled.

She didn’t know what to say. She felt sort of caught. She muttered a quick “Of course I did” and took the water from you.

Her bedroom was dark, only slightly lit by the moon shining through the window, so she didn’t see much when she helped you out of your party clothes. Not like she’d never seen you naked. Once you were in the comfortable clothes, she pulled the blankets on her bed back, allowing you to slip in.

“I’m gonna stop, Paige.” You whispered, still crying as she tucked you in. “I’m gonna stop drinking.”

She sighed. She’d heard you say this before, but never so seriously.

“Good.” She said. “You’re gonna kill yourself at this point.”

“I know…” You whimpered. “I don’t want to die…”

You were quick to put your head in your hands so she wouldn’t see you cry even more. She bit her lip at this. She was angry at you, for continuing to abuse alcohol, but…she hated that she was. She just wanted to comfort you. She never liked seeing you cry.

“Let’s just try to sleep, alright?” She said softly, climbing over you to lie down.

She got in the bed, keeping a safe distance. Neither of you were very comfortable. You were too tense. You hadn’t been in bed together in ages. It would’ve been nice if you weren’t so awkward.

You really tried to pull yourself together. You wiped your eyes, took deep breaths, focused on good thoughts. But your drunken tears kept coming.

Suddenly, Paige was shifting, and she was getting closer. She laid on her side, facing you. Then you felt her hand carding through your hair, gently scratching your scalp.

“What’re you doing…?” You whispered.

“When I used to do this, you’d be out cold within minutes.” She whispered back.

She kept doing the soothing motion. Your eyes were getting heavy, like she’d hoped.

“I’m really gonna stop.” You muttered.

“I know…just sleep.” She murmured.

“I miss you.” You whispered. In your half asleep, intoxicated state, you didn’t think twice about saying that.

She swallowed hard, her hand faltering for only a second. “I told you to go to sleep.”

“I just wanted you to know.” You answered.

“I know.” She repeated, smiling a little at the small amount of sass in your voice. “You don’t have to miss me, though. I’m right here.”

Exhaustion was finally getting to you, so you were falling into a deep sleep.

“I’ll be right here.” She whispered a few seconds before you fully sank into unconsciousness. “We’ll figure this out…we always do."

[archangeldyke-all]

hi angel!!!

went outside today and saw a group of teenagers having a snowball fight and cannot stop thinking about a snowball fight with sevika. she'd laugh her ass off the entire time to the point that she can barely throw. she'd probably fall over belly laughing when a snowball hits her right in the tits. do i just want sevika to have some silly fun with lots of laughter? yes,exactly.

CUTEEEEE also hi rigel heeheh ilyy

men and minors dni

"this is fucking miserable." sevika grumbles as she sludges through the snow.

you giggle beside her. "you're such a fuckin' grump. it's beautiful!" you say as you gesture out to the snow covered expanse of the undercity.

"it's horrible. it's cold and wet and gross. if the sun doesn't come out and melt this shit soon i'm buying a flamethrower and taking things into my own ha-ah!" sevika squeaks as she slips on a patch of black ice.

you catch her as she slides, cackling as she starts cursing out the snow. "woah, baby."

"i hate this fucking weather!" sevika kicks a pile of snow, huffing as it explodes under her foot. she trails ahead of you, ranting and cursing, none the wiser to the evil plan you're cooking up.

you bite back you evil laugh as you pack a handful of snow into a ball, then say a quick prayer to janna that sevika won't kill you once you hit her.

you aim for the back of her hooded head. but sevika turns around just as you launch the snowball through the air, and she receives a face full of icy cold snow. your stomach sinks. you're so fucking dead. sevika's going to kill you, and then divorce you.

sevika blinks the snow out of her eyes, and you giggle nervously. only... instead of getting angry sevika just... bursts into laughter.

you blink in shock, then let a smile take over your face.

"you're fuckin' dead!" sevika cackles.

you squeal as you sprint down the street toward your house. you don't make it far before you're being pelted with snowball after snowball, sevika throwing so hard you end up falling face first into a pile of snow.

she cackles behind you, and you gasp for breath between your laughs as you jump to your feet and start packing your own balls to defend yourself with. sevika ducks behind a trashcan, using the lid as a sheild as she makes her own balls.

you're both laughing uncontrollably as you pelt her little shelter with snowballs. "surrender to my powers of ice!" you squeal. you aren't even making snowballs anymore, you're just throwing handfuls of powdery snow in sevika's direction.

and then your wife stands up from her little trashcan, a ball of snow the size of her head clutched in her arms, and you scream in terror.

"sevika, no!" you cry as you run toward the house. you don't get far. sevika tosses the ball up into the sky, and it comes down right on top of you. "oof!" you grunt as you collapse into a pile of snow. you flop onto your back to glare up at sevika as she laughs above you.

"i'm gonna piss my pants!" she cackles, one of her hands holding her crotch. "oh janna, i'm gonna fuckin' piss my pants!"

you can't glare for long when she's laughing like that. instead you just laugh along with her and start making a snow angel where you lay.

eventually, sevika catches her breath and pulls you out of the snow. she kisses you quickly, before intertwining her arm in yours and continuing your walk home. you're both shivering and soaking wet, but sevika's smiling so bright you're surprised the snow doesn't melt.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in Your Area 8

Chapter 8

Masterpost

“You're just now going to campus?” Jazz said. Danny scowled ahead at the sidewalk. Her tone wasn't judgmental so much as mildly surprised. He still hated it. “That's a lot later than usual. Is everything alright?” Danny hunched his shoulders up and consciously reminded himself not to get defensive. He wasn't slacking. He'd gotten home after his class and slept 13 hours. He still felt wiped out.

“Ghost stuff,” he said cryptically. “Ruined my night.” He dodged someone on the sidewalk without thinking about it, used to the crowds by now.

Jazz inhaled sharply into his ear. “They're supposed to leave you alone to focus on your education,” she hissed. “Just so you know, I do have the venomous Fenton electric creep stick-”

“Yeah, I know,” Danny cut her off. She was probably holding it up right now, thumb on the trigger. He couldn't fight off the rueful smile. She had his back, didn't she? Always did. With that in mind… “I think I need help,” he admitted. Oof. Felt bad. Not as bad as failing his classes, though, which was the danger if he got pulled too deep into more Ghost bull honkey.

“Of course!” Jazz enthused. He stepped off the curb and then quick-stepped backwards to avoid getting hit by some asshole running the red light. Danny lifted up his free hand to flip them off as he hung on his heels on the edge of the pavement drop. He dropped lightly back onto the balls of his feet and jogged across the street.

Jazz was still talking, voice clear over the morning meld of honking and running engines. “How about you come over to my place after your classes tonight? My roommate is out for a conference.”

“You just don't want to come to Crime Alley,” Danny accused her. “Even for me, your beloved baby brother.” He dodged a car that was parked on the cross walk and made an ugly face at the driver. “Despite your professed love for crime, when it counts, it's all talk.”

“I don't love crime,” Jazz reiterated with her inhuman patience. She didn't take the bait of his deliberate mischaracterization of her career plans. “But I am exquisitely stabbable." Her tone went lofty with the brag. "So yes, I avoid Crime Alley.”

Danny blew an unimpressed raspberry to show what he thought of that.

He hadn't met anyone in Gotham yet who he thought would really throw Jazz for a loop. She was a 6ft 2 judo black belt, and she was liminally spooky as fuck. “No one would stab you,” he said, making it sound like an insult. His janky ass was more likely to get held up. "But fine, I'll haul my poor broken corpse all the way over there to do you a favor-”

“So I can do you a favor,” Jazz corrected wryly.

“My poor broken corpse,” Danny cut back in, because that was a really relevant factor to him. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and swooned a little. He felt like he'd been in a tumble dryer. Missing a full night of sleep was an insufferable insult to his desperate shoe-string construction of a healthy routine.

“I would so get robbed if I came there,” Jazz argued. “Maybe even kidnapped.” He could all but hear her flip her hair.

He snorted but let her keep her delicate feminine delusions about not being one of the scariest motherfuckers in the crime capital of the country. He wasn't actually worried about her interning at Arkham Asylum. Maybe he'd freaked out a little when she'd moved here, but that wasn't why he was here. No matter what anyone said.

“There's no immediate danger, right?” Jazz checked. “No reason I need to be concerned today?”

“Nah,” Danny reassured her, as the campus came into sight. He had about an hour before class to spend in the lab before his lecture. “It's not that kind of problem.” He felt his face arranged itself into a wry smile. “You might like this one.”

“Oh?” Jazz asked, intrigued. “Do tell.”

“Only after I've sworn you to perfect silence,” Danny shot back instantly. “I mean it, for real, you can't tell a soul living or dead or nonliving or-”

“I think I get it,” she cut him off. Jazz huffed. “As if I can't keep a secret. You think I can't keep secrets? I know the most incredible things that you could never dream up.”

“...Big if true,” Danny snarked, pretending that he wasn't extremely interested.

“You never knew what happened to the Robinsons,” Jazz said airily. “And you never will.”

“...that doesn't bother me at all,” Danny lied. He stopped walking.

“Ahuh,” Jazz said knowingly. “Hey, remember the neon cheese incident?”

Danny gritted his teeth. “Can't say I do,” he said. It was bullshit, and even he knew it wasn't convincing Jazz. He was dying to know the truth. It had been the talk of the town for weeks and was still occasionally featured on unsolved mystery podcasts. He'd gone far enough to ask the Dairy King, but even the dead wouldn't speak on it.

“Have a good day of classes, little brother,” Jazz said sweetly. She ended the call.

He rubbed at his temples. Ancients, she gave him a headache. She was fantastic. She was killing him and absolutely ruining his unlife. He couldn't even beg her for answers about the neon cheese, because if he managed to badger it out of her, it would prove she could be manipulated into telling secrets. That would be a loss anyway. It was more likely that either she didn't know anything or that she knew and her lips would stay sealed: Danny didn't have any to waste his breath.

He did a few calming rounds of breathing, now that he was thinking about it, and then went on with his day a bit invigorated by the familial aggravation.

Danny felt a little better about focusing on class now that he knew he could count on Jazz in his corner. She was the smartest person he knew. She could probably get him divorced by the end of the day. Hell, she probably already had a contingency plan for getting him a divorce. She was so ready for him to have a relationship so that he would have relationship problems to ask her about.

When he finished up on campus, Danny cut across town to pick up takeout food as an offering. He presented it to Jazz as soon as she opened the door, head bowed and food theatrically high.

“Oh, come in,” Jazz said, exasperated. She grabbed him by the back of his collar and bodily pulled him inside. “My neighbors are going to think I'm so weird, Danny!”

“My liege,” he intoned seriously. “I come bearing- ow! Stop hitting my- hey, my face!” Danny wrestled away from the horrible pinching grip his terrible sister had on his cheeks, scowling. “That hurt,” he complained. “Have you ever thought that you're getting caught up in the cycle of violence?”

“I don't lose sleep over it.” Jazz lowered herself delicately onto one of the weird puffs she had instead of chairs and made grabby hands at the takeout. “What did you get me?”

“Coal,” Danny snarked. But he handed over the bag without a fight and plopped himself onto the closest poof thing. He fully laid out and let his head flop past the edge to hang upside down.

“Inversion therapy, so chic,” Jazz said absently.

He considered flipping her off, but his balance was really off in this position and it would be hard to defend himself if she lunged at him. Hell, if she picked up his legs he'd probably tip over onto the floor. Danny dug his heels into the side of the poof in defensive preparation. He kept her in his peripheral vision.

“Oh, Malaysian,” Jazz enthused. “I wanted to have this!” She sounded a little too surprised.

He shot her a thumbs up. Two days ago, she'd sent him a screenshot of a text landing from someone else that had shown most of her screen was the active map app she was using to get to an appointment. The Malaysian restaurant had the star mark that she put on the places that she wanted to try.

He'd gambled that she hadn't gone yet because she hadn't had a late night at work. Jazz only got takeout with company or if she got home too late to cook.

“Cool,” Danny said, because he didn't want his rotten sister to think he cared about her interests. “It was on the way and it smelled good.”

Jazz hummed and put the food on the side table. “So I see.” She folded her fingers in front of her face and peered at him over the steeple. “What happened? What ghost do I need to soup with a fragrant combination of turmeric and saffron?”

“Please don't waste that, ghosts taste fine on their own,” Danny said.

Jazz grimaced. “Ew, Danny,” she enunciated carefully. She paused. “Ew.”

He shrugged and accidentally slipped a little closer to the floor. “Just saying. But actually, no one dead was involved, unless we count-”

“We don't count,” Jazz cut him off, serenely unbothered by his attempts to score empathy points off his death. She was a cold customer.

“Boo,” Danny said, because he knew his brand and respected ghost tradition. “Anyway, Jeremy Waters. Remember -”

“How could I forget,” Jazz muttered. She put her hands on her face.

“Hey,” Danny said, offended that Jeremy got that reaction and he got a big fat impassive nothing no matter how annoying he was.

“What’s Jeremy done?” Jazz sounded exhausted by the concept.

“Well… He uh.” Danny stared at the ceiling. He couldn't look at her directly. “Well. You know how he wants the good favor of the god of the underworld?”

“Yup.” Jazz hit the ‘p’ sound hard.

“He uh, hit the idea that uh. Maybe a Persephone of sorts was just the thing to suck up.”

He heard fabric rustle as Jazz sat up. “He did?”

Wow, she had one of the most fascinating ceilings in the world. Danny stared intently up at a splotch that looked vaguely malign. She ought to get that checked out by an expert before it possessed somebody. “Yeah, so he's been trying to vault people into the Ghost Zone as bridal sacrifices.”

“Ahuh.” Jazz sounded a little bit choked up. She wasn't laughing, so he couldn't complain.

“I had Dani get Vlad look into it-” because Dad or Mom would have been mortifying- “and apparently, he told her the odds of some hack wizard managing to send a living human to the ghost zone was laughable.”

He paused. He couldn't go on.

“And Vlad would know,” Jazz said leadingly.

Danny put a hand over his face. “Yeah, see, the thing is that I'm now very concerned that Vlad might not know.” His words came out muffled.

Jazz was so intent on him. He pretended even harder not to know she was leaning in towards him. “Does- does the ghost king have a bride, Danny?” She somehow managed in a professional tone.

He nodded miserably.

She promptly lost her shit laughing at his misfortune.

[whirlpool-blogs]

whirlpool's personal MOTA fic recs!

I've actually been dying to put this together for a while now...today is as good an excuse as any! I might not know everyone's tumblrs vs ao3 names so I will NOT be offended if you tell me to correct something!! <3

the big list = going alphabetical order in my folder because YES I do download my favorites, it's like having your own little bookshelf!!

non-clegan fics:

nine mothers' sons by @reallylilyreally (truly beautiful, breathtaking, and **THE** John Brady bible for the fandom so make sure you pray to it every night)

at your heels by @reallylilyreally (this one is Ev Blakely, another really beautiful story that helps you understand just why Crosby's memoir speaks of Blakely with such love and affection)

clegan (or gale-centric, or john-centric) fics:

A Direct Solution by @sweaterkittensahoy (Gale & Marge proposition Bucky...so cute and so hot)

ain't it easy? by @stereobone (dom/sub with john as the dom but ohhh man it's so much more than just that!!!!! this fic is so full of FEELS. and it's also HOTTTT. and also the FEELSSSSS.)

all the rest of what I want with you by @london-cowboy (the level of care that went into writing this fic is insane and impeccable. down to its own internal timeline, little egan kiddos, and the ANGST. but it's all worth it, I promise!!)

back home where you're from, that's the measure of a man by wolfhalls (nice little oneshot of the bucks, I love the back-and-forth of their dialogue in this one, it really does feel like two people who know each other well)

bittersweet between my teeth by @blixabargelds (post-war adjustment...love when the two majors are a little messy and a little sad and also john calls gale the prettiest thing he ever saw so there's that <3)

bluebirds singing a song by ourdarkspirits (Marge jumps Bucky's bones. Then Gale joins. Super fun, super hot!)

Close and Yet Closer by Anonymous (LITERALLY THE MOST!!!!!! FIC OF ALL TIME!!!!!!! Gale is a little bit mean and John is a lot bit sweaty. Like all the time. it's amazing and you should read it and it WILL change your life.)

Corpse Song by birdwif (oof. john is miserable in the stalag he's scratching at the door he's gnawing his own leg off.)

deep breath baby by @defnotanarc (um FISTING. yeah. intense and delicious. side note sometimes the world isn't fair and people who are really talented and amazing at drawing are also really good WRITERS too LIKE WTF!!)

DOG DINNER by @wompire (super interesting writing style, extremely poetic and striking. hits you right in the gut.)

everything and the kitchen sink by @swifty-fox (YEAH THIS ONE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE TOO. modern au where gale is a professional dom and john is a journalist who hornily consents to both (1) fucking around, and (2) finding out. in top ten fics of the decade in general tbh)

Freed From Desire by @feyd-meowtha (yoooooo such a fun and free and sexy fic!!! such a great writing style and such a cool remix of all the characters we know and love!)

He wears his love around his neck by kasugayamaisforlovers (Gale character study, he tries to run his little gay thoughts away which is always so fun to see)

hold me like a knife by storm_warning (tw: self-harm, this REALLY gets into John's self-destructive stalag spiral and it's super visceral and wet and heart-wrenching and written with such, such care and precision)

Hound Within the Heart by Anonymous (fairy-tale esque, gets super crazy and pushes the limits of reality but in the best ways possible)

I Don't Wanna Be Alone Tonight by @johnslittlespoon (cuddling for warmth <3 and then a little more <3 <3 so sweet and intimate!!)

I Like A Bad Boy by @nicijones (modern college AU and bucky is a fratty fuckboy type & in this fic he DOES punch a guy for Gale and it's all very hot and sweet and a delight to read)

i wish you wouldn't tell me (about your hawaiian party) by @whitetrashjj (when the fuckbuddies thing gets messyyyyyy because gale catches feelingsssssss, so delicious and meaty!!)

if that isn’t love, it’ll have to do by @irregularcollapse (ALWAYS such incredible character reads from this author, never misses. also facefucking. also FACEFUCKING <3)

i'll be seeing you by @puffanities (a quick 1.6k oneshot but still packed with some really great characterization and powerful language!! 'when the numbers of planes don’t match...')

i'll find you before the dust settles by butidontreallycare (a Westworld AU!! super cool)

in our bedroom after the war by @stereobone (one of those fics that's just like. a pillar of the community, y'know? iconic. classic. eternal.)

Into the Unknown by Melanie_Mikaelson (big win for john whump enjoyers. BIG win. like 20+ chapters of winning)

it ain't for meatball by @meyerlansky (Curt/Bucky. Curt puts the dog collar on Bucky....and it's HOTTTT arf arf i'm barking just like bucky is in this fic...)

It's Not Love, but It's Fun by @sweaterkittensahoy (Curt/Bucky, 500 words so it's short and sweet just like Curt ahahahaha, ANYWAY still such an interesting little read regardless!)

judgment by the hounds by @puffanities (PG, very visceral and tender apology after the stalag fight scene <3)

level-off maneuvers by wormringers (sweet little oneshot of the Bucks in London)

little fix by ForASecondThereWedWon (Algeria <3 <3 you just kNOW those two gay pilots were sniffing and huffing and licking each other's sweat.....this author GETS it)

love means nothing (in tennis) by @irregularcollapse (fics that make you go WEEEEEEEE!!!! every word, every physical action that these characters take is SO precise and well-written. truly like wrapping a soft bathrobe around yourself and also the bathrobe is incredibly sexy and also they're sucking each other off post-game but PRE-shower. also gale's dad!! also margie!! truly such a well crafted AU)

make you feel alive by @sig-nifier (really sweet little oneshot of gale being a little protective of john. and i am ALWAYS a sucker for the 'call off your dog' trope... and it's done perfectly here!)

meet me at the chapel by @swifty-fox (still in-progress and SUCH a creative, inventive universe!! outlaw john you will always be famous to me!!!!)

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder by @swifty-fox (swift can really weave a story like no one else. so many lines that pack a punch. and in the end, they make it <3)

my type by @spaceshipkat (this one is SOOOOO well-written, I always go so crazy for the dialogue!!! such a great push-pull dynamic in this fic)

night terror by @antiquitea (hot! and sweet! and HOT! and angsty!!!!! highlights include: gale gives john a literal countdown deadline to get off)

Obligate Mutualism by bowhuntress (Gale-centric story of trying to get John through the stalag, then returning the England without Bucky, a fic very obviously written with a lot of care and love)

obsessions, and other things by @sig-nifier (the Bucks cope. really great pacing and dialogue, and I always love when fics take the care to delve into john's struggle with alcoholism as well)

of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world (he walks into mine) by @whitetrashjj (really fun parallel universe where Buck owns a bar, just a great read all-around!)

Oh, I do, do I? by @defnotanarc (DIRTY TALK, like the most delicious, incredible dirty talk you can imagine, this fic nails it!!)

One of your Girls by @soliloquy-dawn (9k oneshot and it's great all the way through, Gale is jealousssss of John fucking around, don't worry they resolve it <3, definitely captures that innocence of pre-Bremen MOTA episodes)

peacetime like a liminal space by @spaceshipkat (this one is PHENOMENAL. post-war, John goes to New York City and turns out it doesn't fill the emptiness. luckily Gale shows up. <3)

Putting Words to It by @impalachick (YEAH THIS ONE IS REALLY HOT. John is a snoop and reads Gale's letters to Marge <3)

Reunited by Flowersandthings (PG, cute & funny oneshot of the Bucks being reunited after Gale makes it over from Greenland!)

Reverie by @avonne-writes (REALLY creative, well-crafted story. Gale and John are soulmates and can visit each other's dreams since adolescence. INCREDIBLE journey and arc in this story, the stalag part is just wow. truly such a gift to the fandom!!).

Rugire by Anonymous (umm omegaverse-ish but with deer dynamics. messy. and SO good.)

SHOTGUN. by pornogirl (YEAH this one is awesome, it's not safe it's not sane but oh boy it is consensual)

Song of Songs by @swifty-fox (sweaty sex sweaty sex sweaty sex)

Spin, Sit, Roll-Over by @glumbabie (Gale is a little mean to John and it's VERY sexy of him tbh. 'DOGS DON'T TALK'???? 'YOU CAN EAT'???????? yeah. read this.)

the chimneys hardly ever fall down by @redbelles (another Gale/Marge + John, and it's HOT. it's SEXY it's awesome!!)

the hand of a good man by @stereobone (John rewrites Gale's daddy history <3)

the jacket by @dogmetaphors (REALLY great sense of dialogue and characterization even in 1.6k words, also shamelessly horny and SO yummy)

The Major’s Wife by tryingmyhandatwriting (John/Original Female Character but like. give this one a chance, I'm telling you!! I'm always soooo compelled by sex scenes that like. are actually a little bit unhappy. and this one SERVESSSSS.)

this must be the place by @blixabargelds (BIG win for Gale whumpers. broken bone and LOTS of blood and super well-written)

To be alone with you by Damn_Illusive (THIS ONE IS SO, SO SPECIAL AND CREATIVE!! freaky army experimentation gives gale and john telepathic communication. incredible separation arc while gale is in the stalag. really, really unique story that is such a staple in my mind as one of the the most incredible clegan stories ever. I think about this one A LOT!!!)

To the Moon and Back by @rambleonwaywardson (iconic astronaut AU, written with SUCH care and love, it's so obvious!! and BIG win for john whumpers. who said that -)

Tough And Sweet (Like You And Me) by @johnslittlespoon (sooo fun and creative and inventive, Bikeriders-esque!Gale and a sweeter, more innocent John. really well crafted)

trading paper dolls by ForASecondThereWedWon (Alex draws Gale pinup girl style in the stalag.....John swipes it.... super great fic!)

two slow dancers by everywordnotsaid (unrequited love, John for Gale, through their journey. I genuinely, actually sobbed for a long time at the conclusion of this fic. I am always thinking about this fic. I think it really captures something about the experience of watching the show and realizing in that hopeless, lovesick kind of way that there's no way to go back in time and save all of them. I still get teary whenever I think about this story or hear the song. It's one of those fics that's not just good, not just great, but somehow also really fucking IMPORTANT. this story MATTERS. you should absolutely read it and save it and imprint it onto your heart. I know it's imprinted onto mine.)

Un Chant d’Amour by @counting0nit (really intriguing take on the interrogation center time frame!)

unicorns, and other extinct animals by @spaceshipkat (really, really incredible reading experience. something that actually touches other aspects of my life, even now. I see planes overhead and I think about this fic. I see letters on a table and I think about this fic. just. this author GETS IT, you know? just absolutely nails every aspect of this kind of fic: post-war adjustment, the pain, the LOVE. this fic will make you FEEL it. let it happen.)

Up In Our Bedroom by @steeseman (ICONIC. really one of those pillars of the community type fics, y'know? it's funny and it's sweet and it's painful and the hot parts are HOT. clearly written with SO much care, and SO much love, and SO much precision. every single word packs a punch. absolutely one of my top reads of all time, across time, across fandoms)

When the bones are good by @aramblingjay (a really incredible post-war fic, such a beautiful, rich writing style!! isn't afraid to dig at the hard parts - john's relationship with alcohol, their nightmares from the war. stunning visuals -- the author uses setting and place and motion in such a tangible, real way. I can still see the little hideout spot in my mind's eye, even now. one of those fics that's just. such a treasure to the fandom.)

your dreams, whatever they be by @drylite (this one is super new, and it's just SUCH solid writing!)

You're A Dog (I'm Your Man) by @johnslittlespoon (one of those fics that's a pillar of the fandom for SURE!!! definitely a classic)

[alittlebitofloveliness]

"My father was only forty when he died and he looked twenty-five and a lot of people thought Darry and Dad were brothers instead of father and son." (The Outsiders, 1967)

I think about this line and it's implications a lot. It's not just the comparison between Darry and his dad in looks, but Mr Curtis was only fourty when he died. Darry is twenty at the time the novel takes place, eight months after the Curtis parents deaths, which means that when Darry was born Mr.Curtis wad probably only twenty or twenty one himself, and it makes an odd mirror to the position Darry is in in a number of ways and based on how you look at it. I know it was a different time and people got married younger but twenty to me still seems young to be having a baby, and since there's a good four years between Darry and Soda I think it's very possible that Darry was an oops baby that turned Mr and Mrs Curtis' world upside down. All I can think of is a twenty year old Mr.Curtis who suddenly is thrust into the role of a provider he wasn't quite expecting or ready for, just like Darry twenty years later, except unlike Darry Mr.Curtis had a partner to support him and work together to look after this new dependent. Clearly, a shotgun wedding and a new wife and new baby is not the same as a twenty year old suddenly becoming the legal guardian of two teenage siblings but the point stands, and both events would change someones life forever. Even if you don't think Darry was unplanned this passage hits home in a different way, because it's kind of a 'what if' as to what Darry could have been doing/had if he hadn't suddenly become Pony and Soda's guardian. Darry could have been in college and found someone to settle down with and started a family, much like his dad before him, but instead he's just plain stuck. And the part of the quote that says people mistook them for brothers? Oof. Aside from being a punch in the gut it really does give the impression of the 'alternate universe' Darry, of everything he could have been.

[mamayan]

oof your writing is so good 🙈 if your requests are open, would you be willing to write smth for dabi with a nervous virgin reader? Maybe some fingering and petting, lots of praise and encouragement if you're okay with that!! I also wouldn't mind if theres a little dubcon scattered in there for flavour😳 Thank you!🙏

Fuck it’s his favorite— absolutely I will Nonnie♥️ Dabi is nothing if not the perfect gentlemen… sorta. Am I gonna get sued for changing his words in this manga panel? I got carried away with this lol

Yandere Dabi x Virgin! Darling

tw: NSFW • Fem! Darling • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Implied Mental/Emotional/Physical Abuse • Dubcon • Praise • Virgin! Darling • BDSM • Fingering • Oral • Sex (M)(F) • Denial/Edging • Overstimulation • Dacryphilia • Unprotected Sex • Creampie

The front door slammed loud enough to reverberate around the apartment.

You sat facing the small tv, the screen playing some sort of cartoon with the volume on low, unmoving even as the thuds of his boots against vinyl faux wood flooring became louder. You were curled around your legs, pulled to your chest as your bare feet seemed to absorb the cold around you, icy skin keeping you grounded. Only a thin ratty oversized t-shirt and tiny shorts covering your body, despite the broken thermostat keeping the apartment at almost freezing temperatures.

Dark combat boots entered your field of vision, you numbly let your eyes flick up to take him in. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey, the burning scent making acid bubble up in your stomach to your throat, but you meekly swallowed it down and gave a wobbly smile. “W-welcome home…” it was said with all the enthusiasm of a man walking towards his execution.

He crouches down to face you better, forearms resting on his knees as he levels you with a… soft look.

It has chills shooting down your spine, your stomach rolling and clenching while your chest heaves with anxiety. He’s not a soft man. He’s never been soft, not really, only in strange sporadic moments does he gently do anything to you, but it’s always followed by something sinister. Always.

“Hey pet, you cold?” He’s sadistic and cruel even on a good day. His words immediately making your eyes burn as you try to stop the impending tears. You’re always cold, left freezing locked up until his return, your only source of comfort and warmth him. It was a nasty play, logically you knew it, but logic was what got you hurt so you nodded despite the itch in your heart begging you to hold out a little longer. “M’cold…” you assent, unable to see the defeated dull look in your own eyes, but he could.

“C’mere then,” his smile is so sweet, his staples hardly pulling and his usually vibrant eyes more subdued and gentle. You wanted him to stop whatever game he’s playing now. Whatever sick trick he’s got hidden to make your walls crumble around you. His arms spread open, his knees hitting the floor so he could straighten his spine, and his embrace looking so warm.

Like selling your soul to the devil, you caved. Pathetically nearly falling as you all but threw yourself into him.

The fire wielding psychopath was a lot of things, and sadly running warmer than a normal person was one of them. Just being close to him was like sitting near a furnace, heat radiating off him in waves it seemed. You had all the time in the world to hate yourself when he inevitably left you again to nearly freeze, for now you focused on getting feeling back into your limbs as you pressed yourself as close as possible.

His chuckle is breathy as he wraps you up easily, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on his ass now, your thighs on either side of his to let you be as physically close as possible. Well, almost as physically close as possible, because when you were so desperate for his touch like this, it’s hard not to think about you begging for him to really warm you up.

“Better?” He doesn’t really need to ask, not when you’re fighting to keep your hands from digging under his shirt and getting more body heat from him. Your little sigh of contentment adorable, and while his day was mundane, he did get to release most of his pent up frustration on some lowlife pieces of shit. He was in a good mood, but he’d be in a better one soon.

“Hn” your little affirmation quiet as you rested your cheek against the exposed skin of his collarbone, breathing him in and relaxing as your stiff muscles and joints soaked his warmth up greedily. You didn’t even fight when his hands began to smooth over your skin, up your calves and thighs to your ass where he gave a little squeeze. You put up no resistance, no screaming or fighting tonight it seemed. “You still cold?” His lips are right are by your ear, warm breath blowing over it and sending a shiver of something… different down to your stomach. The stale cigarette scent wasn’t as bothersome to you when he wasn’t being mean it seemed.

You let him pet and stroke your skin, warming you up gradually and shifting you both around until your core was against his stomach and he was flat on his back. He even lifted up his shirt and your own a bit to give more contact, the staples across his chest smoother than you’d initially thought.

This was all wrong and you were without a doubt being soothed into… something. Peace? A sense of safety? Whatever it was, you mentally kept yourself prepared. Even if his touch was soft and careful, you knew what lurked behind those pretty eyes.

“You stopped shakin’…” his observation was more of a statement, but indeed you had warmed up enough not to shiver anymore. He wasn’t usually so nice as to help warm you up like this, usually making you drop to your knees and cling to him while he heckled your behavior.

Your world flipped too quickly to react. Your back now on the cool floor with his body looming over you.

“You’re still cold though, aren’t you pet?” His smile isn’t nice anymore.

“D-Dabi please…”

“What’s wrong, you don’t want me to warm you up anymore?” It was a thinly veiled threat that had you nearly delirious with panic in seconds.

“N-no I do! I do, please don’t stop!” Your pretty eyes filling with tears made him bite down hard on his tongue, tasting blood as he struggles to keep himself calm. It’s you after all. You weren’t some cheap whore he screwed for a quick release. You were his.

That meant something. Whether it was good or bad was debatable and complicated.

“Then let me warm you up, it’ll be faster like this,” he’s not lying. Even as he laughs at the confusion and waring emotions on your face, he really isn’t lying to you this time.

His lips aren’t soft. The kiss nothing like the ones you’d sneakily shared with a crush under the school bleachers, that kiss was a bit too wet and slimy. This one was commanding. His tongue easily slipping into your mouth in your shock, happy to invade and taste you, to share the overwhelming taste of tobacco. Your hands are tangled in his coat, tugging lightly on the fabric as he devours your mouth. He pulls back when you start to struggle, and the sight of your swollen parted lips has his pants uncomfortably tight. His zipper digging into his cock now.

“Dabi—,” your voice is barely even a whisper, almost inaudible but he catches it and pauses as he looks down at you carefully.

The fact that he’s even being careful should be considered as a mercy.

“Please be gentle…” your lips twist into a grimace, the lame line the only thing your muddled mind can conjure. His snort of amusement not helping your wounded pride, but as he shrugs his coat off and looks down at you, his words give you pause.

“I’m going to make you forget everything bad tonight pet.”

He doesn’t elaborate. You don’t need him to. You don’t want this. It doesn’t matter though, because you never wanted any of this. His sanity not even in question, because he’s clearly out of his damn mind and has been for quite a while.

His shirt is next, revealing his chest in the dim light of the tv still playing quietly, the words not even registering as a language you understood. The damaged flesh leathery and colored a dark purple in contrast to his healthy skin. You lay limp and almost defeated beneath him, watch as his hands deftly remove your own shirt, and while it’s not the first time he’s seen you naked… this would be the first he’s touched you so intimately. Your breasts exposed to the cool air harden quickly, his smile predatory as he leans over your chest to flick one with his tongue.

The sensation shoots straight to your pussy.

“Pretty little pet, are you scared?” His question is rhetorical, but you hate how he just seems to know your thoughts and feelings. So much so you wanted to ask if he hide a second quirk. In a last act of defiance, you shake your head. You are scared, terrified of what else there even is to lose because this evil man seems determined to take and have all of you. He’s insatiable for whatever you have, like a vampire taking the life right out of you. Except he won’t kill you, even if sometimes you wished he would. To end this game.

“Pfft, you look so serious,” his face is filled with only hunger and amusement, as he lets his rough palms rest over your breasts, squeezing lightly as he lets himself just take you in. His hands drag over your much softer skin, looking at the odd scar here and there left by his flames during the early days of your readjustment period. He lets one hand rest just over the mound of your pussy, still covered by the thin shorts that hardly covered anything. He’s quiet, and so are you, as you breathe and struggle to stay still for whatever this was. You imagined it to be more violent, less pathetic on your end, as if you’d given up without a fight.

Your tears of frustration finally broke and trailed down your cheeks, your brows furrowed and cheeks puffed as you try to stay silent and uphold whatever amount of dignity you had left. You wouldn’t beg him to stop, it only spurred him on. When his eyes looked back up, the image of you nearly drove him feral as he grinned, giddy with excitement in lieu of you crying. His snicker of approval only making you flinch back as his fingers hook inside the waist band of the shorts and your underwear.

“Keep crying pet. Maybe a hero will come to save you?” His words drip sarcasm as he now roughly yanks your bottoms down and off your body in one swift motion. You’re left completely nude and shivering as the cold seeps back into your body as you lay on the floor. “I don’t think any heroes even patrol this side of town anymore. Too dirty and messy, they can’t be bothered to save people here. So I guess that leaves just you n’me.” He’s not looking at your face, though he’d be elated to see the look of crushed hope painting your features, instead his eyes were trained on your tightly shut thighs. The soft skin a bit distorted from how hard you squeezed them closed. His dark hair falling a bit into his gaze as he easily digs his fingers roughly into your flesh to pry them open.

“Hii!” You cry of pain and shock adorable to his eyes as he gets an eye full in the dim light of your wet pussy.

“Better keep these spread pet, if I gotta open them again for you, I’ll give you a real reason to cry.” His eyes are fierce and foreboding as they meet your gaze, and fear keeps you compliant as you obey and keep your legs open where he left them. He smiles in approval, humming to himself as he begins to undo his belt and open up his pants.

He shifts to one handedly yanking his pants down to free his aching cock, his free hand moving to his open mouth to layer on his own saliva to his fingers. The wet digits brought to your pussy as you whimper, gently spreading your folds and admiring it as he grips his hard cock in his hand. You make the mistake of looking at it.

He’s covered in piercings. His cock long and thick, more so in the middle, with a slight upward curve… but there’s two distinct barbs through his dick on both sides, with the tip sporting one prominent one that had you wanting to disobey and close your legs anyway. It looked frightful and painful if anything else, and you briefly wondered if he did this to ensure his victims were thoroughly tormented at every step.

“Fuck look at you baby, so pretty like this aren’t you?” He’s gently poking and circling your clit, loving each little scared gasp and unsure look you shoot his way. He can tell it feels good for you, but with the uncertainty and fear factor of his looks and his cock, you’re wound tight in apprehension. He thinks it’s a beautiful sight on you. Your little sniffles and pouty lips captivate him into leaning over you again, licking your lips until you open and let him kiss you again. It’s languid and lazy like him, proving how good his mood currently is by how he’s taking his time with you. Your hands stay by your side, gripped tight into fists as you feel a finger begin to push inside of you.

He breaks the kiss the time, looking down to see you take his finger.

“Not so bad is it pet?” He wiggled and pushes it as deep as he can go, loving how your back aches and chest juts out in his face for easy access. He’s nice as he works you open with one finger, lavishing your sore nipples with licks and bites. You keep the moans soft and low, struggling to hate this like you thought you would.

It didn’t hurt at all. It felt good. That was the problem. Dabi never makes you feel good, he torments you like a cat with a mouse. That’s why he calls you pet.

So when he squeezes in a second finger and you moan louder? You nearly knock a tooth out slapping a hand over your lips in embarrassment.

“No you don’t,” his fingers rip free from your tight cunt, both hands gripping your wrists and pinning them with one hand above your head. He grabs his jacket, using the arms to make a makeshift cuff to lock your hands together. “Keep’’em right there,” he orders, and by his stern features you know he means it.

Tired of just testing the waters, Dabi crawls down your body in favor of bringing his face directly before your pussy. “Dabi?” Your head lifted to try and see him as he wraps his arms under your hips to hoist you up higher towards his awaiting mouth. “Been thinkin’ of how this pussy tastes for months,” he grins, letting his pierced tongue run from your dripping hole to your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body as your legs jolt and snap around his head.

You realize quickly and apologize, opening them to avoid any punishment.

“Good girl~” you don’t like how his praise warms you up further, your shaking now less from cold or fear and more from arousal.

He repeats his first few licks, before beginning to truly lavish your pretty cunt with his tongue and skills. Dabi isn’t actually an experienced man, most women fearful or disgusted by him for obvious reasons, but it wasn’t hard for him to figure out your reactions and follow the flow of your pleasure. The way you twitched and moaned, struggled to keep your hands in the spot he ordered you to, to keep your legs spread, he loved all of it. When your moans became high pitched whimpers and whines, and your muscles spasmed, he knew you were close.

“D-Dabi I think I—,” you were so close, core wound so tight you could snap at any second, and for the first time you liked what he was doing to you.

Until he stopped.

“No—!” Your cry was embarrassing, as you shook beneath him in horror of your own reaction. Panting and trying to catch your breath as your pleasure faded by the second, his Cheshire grin soaking up your disappointment eagerly. Of course he would, you felt bitter, even as he returned to licking and sucking your clit. Only when the build up returned did you relax again, moving your hips up a little as you neared the crest once more…

He stopped again.

“Dabi—!” Your indignant tone telling as you huffed, sweat beginning to dot your skin despite the cool temperatures, Dabi’s warmth even removed like this helping.

Your stomach ached with the urge to cum. “Something wrong pet?” His face said he knew what was wrong, but it seemed he wanted you to say it. Instead you stubbornly pressed your lips together, his shrug of nonchalance following as he returned to kissing and sucking, slower and more gradually building you up again.

Even if you mentally prepared for it, he let you get much closer to coming than the previous times, so when he pulled away, your legs clamped tight around his head to stop him. “Fuck, please Dabi,” you hated yourself. Hated how he held so much power over you.

If you didn’t look so cute, he’d probably punish you too for not listening.

“Please what?” You watch as he lets a drop of his salvia drip into your pussy, your trembling legs pushed open again by his hands as he stares up at you.

“P-please…” you didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to give him anymore of yourself but… “—please make me cum.”

He looks like that cat which got the milk. His satisfaction palpable as he laughs. “Well why didn’t you just say so? Since you said please.” His teasing tone muffled again soon by your wet pussy, his aggressive approach now much more intense as he eats you out with the purpose of making you cream his face now.

It doesn’t take long before the string violently snaps inside you, your orgasm intense and nearly painful as you come apart.

“Ah, yes, oh—,” you try to shift away, his tongue still laving your clit as he looks up at you, narrow gaze teasing and telling as you whine. “D-Dabi I-I already—ah please!” You almost bite your tongue when he sucks hard on your clit, your panic building with another orgasm. You moan, your head thrown back as your fingers grip and tug on the binding of his coat, hips shaking as you come again.

His lower face is soaked, but he can’t find it in himself to stop as he licks up all your release and noses your clit. Switching his assault to inside of your quivering hole, letting his wet hot tongue slither in, licking and poking your walls. He moans with you now, relaxing as he lets himself get comfortable, leaning against your thigh he has propped up now with his arm keeping you locked in position. He’s lazily feasting as you come again, this time breaking his rule and trying to push his face away with your hands still bound.

He doesn’t even stop then, just uses his free hand to grip the fabric and anchor your hands to your stomach as he continues to work you into another frenzy.

“S’too much! Stop! Stop Dabi! Please fuck, I can’t, ugh, no more—,” your pleas are ignored as he laughs, eyes crinkling as he watches you twitch and jolt with even the tiniest amount of pressure to your clit now.

“I thought you wanted to cum? Change your mind already?” You can hardly manage a full sentence, gasping for air like he’s choked you or something. He relents though, only because his cock is close to shooting his load even though he hadn’t touched himself while playing with you. Using his coat, he lifts your hands back above your head and scoots forward to let his heated cock slap against your wet folds. His hips automatically jerking a few times as his dick feels the soft wet heat your cunt is soaked in.

“You want my cock pet?” You look delirious and exhausted, sweat making your hair cling to your face as you briefly almost admit to being too warm now. Your both chilled and overheated as your sweat dries. Your blurry vision glances down to his throbbing length peaking at you from below, the heavy rod sliding back and forth through your slick and causing your pussy to twitch as he nudges your clit with it.

“S’not gonna fit…” his lip nearly splits on his smile, the cute admission only making him wanna shove it in you more to prove it will fit.

“You don’t think so?” His eyes look inhumanly blue from the cast of whatever show played on the tv now. One hand stays to keep your own pinned, while the other travels down your soft body to grip his cock and line himself up. “‘Cuz I think it will,” then he’s pushing in. His tip goes in easier as it gets crushed by your tight convulsing cunt, the rest engorged by blood feels painful as you cry, Dabi moaning as your gooey walls try to force him out. “I think,” one sharp thrust sinks a whole inch in, your eyes opening wide as tears spill freely, “I’ll get my entire cock in,” he pulls out only a little before shoving in a little more again. “And you know what else I think?” He’s leering down at you, manic grin frightening with the added shadows cast. You can feel his piercings, tugging and forcing themselves inside as he shifts and pushes, nearly stealing your ability to breathe.

“I think you’re gonna like it.” You can’t talk and he knows it, as his tip kisses your cervix, and then it’s bruising it as he shoves himself to entire way in, gasping in pleasure he sees himself fully sheathed inside you. His groin flush with your ass. Your walls so tight it feels impossible to pull out now. It doesn’t matter to Dabi though, as he grits his teeth and rocks forward and back, creating delicious friction on his cock. You’re left to sniffle and cry, pussy stretched painfully wide and aching deep inside from how his rough entrance.

“Poor little crybaby,” he chuckles, leaning closer to lick the tears off your cheeks as he finally gets himself wet enough to begin a slow pace inside you. “You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, burying his face in your neck for a moment while he ruts into you, quick short thrusts working him close to his orgasm. His hand works between you, thumbing your clit as you cry and writhe beneath him, pussy clenching and relaxing as you’re forced to cum with something thick, hot, and painfully heavy inside your cunt.

“Shitttt,” his teeth sink into your neck, grunting as his balls draw tight and he pumps his boiling load deep into your womb, pushing even deeper as it twitched and spurts. Your legs locking and trembling as you see stars.

He stills for a moment, catching his breath quickly as he lifts up to look at your ruined appearance. Your face covered in tears as you pant, eyes nearly closed as struggle to stay awake. Your pussy even messier, slick and cum coating you both and the floor, a tiny bit of pink mixed too.

The thought that it was him who ruined your innocence, taken your first and last, has him hardening again inside you.

You can only whine, silently pleading for a break, but his answering smile is familiar and devious.

“C’mon pet, we’re just getting started tonight.” He chuckles, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming into you now. The shock woke you up fully, pussy protesting the rough treatment he sets as the room fills with salacious noises, your pussy squelching with each slap of his balls. The piercing on his tip hitting a new angle as he leans back and jerks your hips up off the floor.

“Oh!” Your vision goes black as you cum, and Dabi only laughs and fucks you harder as you pass out, loving the stupid expression on your fucked out face.

“That’s it pet, said I was gonna make you forget!” He’s emptying another load inside you not longer after, his own dick becoming a bit overstimulated but too engrossed fucking you to stop yet. With you half conscious, it’s easy to slip out and flip you to your stomach before sliding back in smoothly. “Fuck, you feel so good baby, taking my cock like you were made for it,” his words are slurred in his pleasure, his hips working against your ass as he drags his slick cock out of your pussy before working it back in. He’s even deeper like this, your belly and hips flat on the floor as he fucks you.

You can’t even remember why you didn’t want this anymore. The pleasure and warmth overwhelming and so perfect.

At least as he fills your pussy again, you don’t feel cold.

[girlboypersonthingy]

i’ve never really asked before but i just read all of your sally face stuff and BFBSVAVAX so i was thinking….

(preferably afab) reader coming home tired and needy, walking in sal and their shared room sighing as they rip off their work shirt and stare at sal who’s practicing a new song. waiting for him to put his guitar aside they fall dramatically into his lap and start COVERING his mask in kisses, stopping suddenly to ask for a real kiss:3

just some fluffy stuff pls it’s been a LONGGGG few weeks:D

A D O R A B L E ! ! ! This week has def been a ‘I want to come home to Sal and collapse in his arms’ type of week for me like oof 😔…I’m sorry this took me a while to get to, I hope you’re alright. Hopefully you’re doing better by now and if not, plz feel free to message me and we can chat 🖤 thanks for requesting and enjoy!

Notes: fem!reader, this is really fucking silly I’m so sorry…

TW: a bit suggestive, lots of swearing, making out, spit/drool, boobs lol 18+ only!!!

Sal x reader- Hard Day 🌙

(Imagine Sal practicing this song while you read this 🖤)

“Fuuuuuuckkkk…” You groan loudly as you drag your feet through the doorway of the house, stomping loudly on each step of the stairs. As you near the door way of your bedroom, you see the light is on, the music is loud and you can hear Sal playing his guitar along to it, occasionally hitting the wrong note. As you step across the threshold of the room, you let loose a big breath of air as you slouch over a bit, catching Sal’s attention for a moment.

“Hey babe!” He shouts over the music while continuing with his playing. He was sat up on the corner of the bed, guitar in his lap, slouched over with his prosthetic still on. You couldn’t help but watch his fingers on the strings for a moment, black painted nails moving oh so smooth but still making little mistakes. “Hi…I’m so tired.” You say but it falls on deaf ears. Sal is just so close to nailing this one part of the song, he’s been trying for two and half hours now and he’s too close to quit.

Disappointed and a bit annoyed, you quickly shed your shirt and continue giving Sal a cranky but needy glare, only covered by a bra up top. “Sal!!!” You finally shout, making Sal look up, making his hands freeze for a moment. He quickly leans over to turn the music off, his blue hair swaying over his shoulders as he moves. “I’m sorry…uh hey…babe. You okay?” Just by the tone of his voice, the way he’s hesitating and stopping to lick his dry lips under his mask, you can tell he’s equally flustered and excited by your lack of clothes.

“No…I’m not…” You pout for a moment, sighing as you rub your aching temples. He sets his guitar aside and puts one hand out towards you, offering it as a comforting gesture. You gladly accept, grabbing his hand then quickly approaching him and sitting in his lap. “This week…was the fucking worst!” You cry out dramatically, turning to the side so he can hold you bridal style. “I just wanna stay home with you all day, every day.” Sal chuckles softly, one arm tucked up under your knees, the other cradling your back while his hand ruffles the hair on the nape of your neck. “Me too, babe. Me too…” He replies before he gently nuzzles his prosthetic up against your face, making kissy noises under it.

After enough of his cuddly kisses, you decided to return the favor, covering his mask in kisses. You pepper kisses everywhere, all over his prosthetic very quick and soft. Until finally, you pause and place a long kiss on the lips of his prosthetic, humming as a smile grows on your lips. “You know what would really make me feel better…?” You really drag out the words, using your best flirty voice as your finger traces the side of his mask. “What?” He quickly clears his throat, your faces only inches apart. His rapid breathing echos inside his prosthetic as his hand slides up to fully cradle your head.

“Kiss me for real…please?” Your flirty tone turns to a very soft, comforting type of tone, smiling up at him as you watch him blink down at you. There’s a pause, he hesitates for a moment before gulping nervously. Although you’ve seen his face many times before, mouth to mouth kisses were hard to come by with Sal. With a shaky hand, he grabs your own hand and guides it to the back of his head, gesturing for you to unclip his prosthetic for him. He was far too nervous to do it himself, he figured he’d let you set the pace.

To his surprise, you’re pretty quick with the buckles and the mask falls into your lap within seconds. Immediately, your lips meet, Sal uses that hand on the back of your head to push you into him further. As your arms snake around his neck, hugging him close to your nearly bare chest, his other hand is gently kneading your hip as you move your lips against his. The kiss began to rapidly pick up pace, his tongue occasionally licking along your bottom lip.

It was always a delightful shock when your lips or tongue would meet his teeth accidentally where they peek through his cheek and the corner of his mouth, now was no exception. Any time this happens, Sal usually shies away and assumes it grosses you out, especially when he knows he’s probably drooling. Expecting this would happen, you move one hand to the back of his head, matching the grasp he has on you to keep him engaged in the kiss.

A low moan comes from him as he deepens the kiss along with you, tilting his head and running his tongue along your own. Suddenly, clumsily, Sal grabs ahold of your legs and slowly lays back on the bed, pulling you along with him, trying to keep his lips on yours. He fails at this, your lips parting for a moment, him awkwardly shifting under you until he pulls you up closer to his bright red and slightly sweaty face. You can’t help but laugh, not at him, he’s just too cute when he gets like this,

A chuckle rumbles from his chest as he holds you closer, squeezing you tightly against him as he places a final kiss on your nose. “Are you feeling better?” He quickly leans back in for a few more tender lip kisses, smiling brightly as he pulls back. “Yes, sooooo much better. You know what would really make me happy though, Sally?” Your hands run slowly through his long, blue hair as he hums in response. “Hm?”

“Let’s do all of that again…but in a nice hot shower~”

Cue Sal getting a gruesome bloody nose as he glances down at your barely covered chest and thinks about having a shower with you. 🥴🖤

[silentglassbreak]

hi bestie is it too late to request? you said you liked writing angst, well, i love reading it 💔💔painfully unrequited love!!!!! gimme gimme

friends with benefits with (overly affectionate!!!!) Noah and reader who falls sick to her stomach head over heels in love with him. blurring the lines between sex and love.

going to a bad omens concert however long after and it’s like they’re strangers oOF rip my heart out and stomp on it idc. been listening to Novocaine on a loop all day. i’m not okay

feel to totally disregard if you’re not feeling it angel <33 thank you bby I love your writing 🥺🥺

Angst............. UGH I've been WAITING babes. My goal is to rip your heart out...fair fucking warning. MMMLOVEYOUUUUU. After Writing Notes: I'm the actual worst. I hope you don't hate it!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, lots and lots of angst

Can You Feel My Heart

Love languages are such a strange concept, aren't they? That seems to be a fairly new idea that someone came up with in the last decade or so?

If you like to buy love...your love language is gifting.

If you can't communicate well...your love language is affection.

If the only way you know how to show feelings is with sex...your love language is intimacy.

At what point are we allowed to call someone out for being a dick? At what point are we allowed to confront the fact that someone is skipping around the idea of commitment, and ask them to just admit what they really want?

This wasn't the first time these thoughts had danced around my head, in the wee hours of the morning, while Noah's arm laid heavy across my waist, him snoozing behind me.

Noah and I had been friends since we were seven years old. We met on the playground at the park in the center of the neighborhood of our small town in West Virginia. He told me he liked my butterfly hair clips, and I let him have the blue one. He wore it in his hair every day for three weeks.

He grew up in a broken home, only his Mom around most of his years, and even then - that relationship was...strained. So many nights he had snuck into my bedroom window, curling up next to me, tears free falling down his cheeks. We never talked about why, but it didn't take a psychic to figure it out.

He moved in with his Grandmother when he was fourteen, and even though he lived in the next town over, he still made it a point to take the city bus to me every day after school, even when he dropped out.

We were never more than twin flames, incapable of existing without each other, moral support for the other during any type of hardship. Looking back, I guess that was what built our serious dependence issues.

"I can't live without you, Y/N. I'll die if I ever lose you."

"No you won't Noah, don't be stupid."

He was stupid. As stupid as they come, because when I turned eighteen, and started college, he had paid one of his friends to drive him all the way up to Columbus to see me. He showed up at the door of my dorm, drunk and broken, blathering on about how only having been away from me for a week had killed him, and he needed to see me.

That was the first night he kissed me, and I let him.

As most people do when having grown up with someone so closely, I had developed an attachment to Noah very early on. I first recognized it when he turned twelve, and started skateboarding. He would insist on trying to teach me how, despite my undeniable clumsiness. His hands would grip my hips, his face so close to my ear, and his chest pressed to my back. He would talk in this deep voice, his puberty hitting early. I was awe-struck.

He was my best friend, sure. But he belonged to me, that's what he always said.

Even when he had girlfriends, I always came first. Dates would get cancelled for me; plans changed. Hell, he even blew off one girl whose birthday fell on the same day as mine. I was his priority. I was his person.

So when he leaned in to me, sitting on the edge of my mattress in the dorm, liquor stained-breath against my face, I just closed my eyes and let it happen.

He spent the night with me, and had to leave early. Vowing to come back, he never broke his word.

There he was the following weekend, sober this time, with snacks, DVDs, and a week’s worth of clothes. I managed to hide him in my room for four days before the dorm advisor caught him.

The second day he was there was the first time we had sex. I was a virgin, and he was not. That hurt me, sure. Not enough to deny him what was rightfully his. I belonged to Noah, body and soul. He took his time, walked me through it, and gave me the best possible experience I could expect. It hurt, and it was weird, but a sense of relief washed over me.

We had finally crossed that threshold. We had sex three times that week, until he was forced to leave.

That's when the words left his mouth.

"We need to talk."

That conversation broke something inside of me. He loved me, but he didn't love me. He was honored to have been allowed to give me something so meaningful, but he could never see me as more than his best friend. Our friendship was too important, and he wouldn't even allow himself to entertain the idea of jeopardizing that. He had made up his mind, and he couldn't have feelings for me.

It was with the heaviest heart imaginable, I sucked back my tears, painted an easy smile on my face, and held his hands in mine.

"I totally understand, Noah. No worries! We can just have fun, you know?"

And that was it. We were stuck in this sick, frozen place for the last two years. I was about to finish my Associates in Columbus, and hoped to become pre-med at Boston U, but Noah didn't know that yet. I could never figure out how to tell him.

Noah Davis was this heavy, bright flame that I was desperately afraid to extinguish. He had formed a band right after our arrangement began, and he was twenty-four hours away from leaving on their first major tour that would take him around the entire country, and then across the Atlantic to Europe.

How could I tell him that while he was gone, I was likely moving even further, and starting my life without him?

I didn't want to live without him, but he was leaving, and I couldn't sit and wait forever...

I breathed out a sigh, the light beginning to stream in the window of my one-bedroom apartment. He needed to wake up, drive home, and make sure he was ready to leave tomorrow. It was only 6AM, so I knew he'd be cranky, but I couldn't put this off any longer.

“Noah?” I breathed out his name. He groaned in response. “You’ve got to get up. You have to get ready to head home.”

"Mm, ten more minutes." I rolled my eyes, and began sliding out from underneath him.

His arm locked, and held me in place. I giggled, and saw as he turned his face, one eye cracking open. "Don't get up. It's too early."

I narrowed my eyes. "I have class at 8AM."

Noah used his strength against me, pulling my body to him and holding me tight so I couldn't get up. This only made me laugh louder.

"You don't need to get up for another hour."

"Not if I want to shower."

He sighed into the pillow. "So crazy, cause I don't think you do."

I rolled my eyes. "Dude, you've got to get home. Nick will kill us both if you're not ready in time."

"I'm not scared of her." He smirked, and I smacked his arm.

"Shut up. And get off me!"

He stuck his bottom lip out, pouting heavily.

"Not going to work. C'mon." I wriggled hard enough to break his grip, and sat up, stretching my arms over my head. He sat up as well, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

I pulled a robe over myself, turning to look at him as he scrolled through his phone, checking messages.

"Coffee?" I asked, and he threw a thumbs up at me.

I left the room, headed for the kitchen, trying to keep my breathing even. I had very little time left.

Filling the pot with water, I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, his face burying in my neck.

"I don't want to go. I'm going to miss you so much."

I leaned into the touch, taking anything I could at this point. "I know. I'll miss you more."

He scoffed. "Not a chance."

Holding me for a few more moments, he let go to head to the fridge, pulling out the bagels and cream cheese, and plopping down at the dining table. I continued my work of preparing our coffee.

"Hey, uh," I started, keeping my voice as calm as I could. "there's something I wanted to chat with you about."

I turned around, two hot mugs in my hand. He was spreading the cream on a bagel, already having prepared one for me. I sat next to him at the table.

"What's up?" He didn't look up at me.

"I told you I had been trying to decide where to start medical school?" He just nodded in response. "Well, I find out today if I got into Boston."

He halted, his eyes snapping up to me. "Boston?"

I took a sip of coffee. "They've got the best med program on the East coast-"

He cut me off. "Since when were you looking on the East coast?"

His tone was darkening. This was going to go about as well as I expected.

"Since I realized I had a chance. Noah, my GPA and scholar program gives me a real shot."

He grit his teeth, setting his bagel down. "Boston is far, Y/N."

I kept calm, setting my mug down as well. "I know."

"So, why would you want to be so far away?"

"Well, you're going far too, Noah. Your first show is in San Diego."

He sat back in his chair. "Yeah, but the last one puts me right back here in Columbus for a month before I go overseas."

I nodded. "I know. I'll still be here, then. You get back six weeks before the end of the semester."

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can't go to Boston."

There was a finality to his tone, and something about it made my insides flinch with irritation.

"Oh no? And if I do?"

"You can't."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Can't? And since when do you tell me what I can and can't do?"

He rolled his eyes, standing from the table and walking over to the trash, binning the half of his bagel he didn't eat. "We can't be that far away from each other."

Lifting my eyebrows, I stood as well, crossing my arms. "And why is that, Noah?"

He leaned back against the counter. "Y/N, you know why."

"What? So you have someone to fuck whenever you want? Whenever one of your little groupies isn't around?"

His eyes popped open, then. "What?"

"You heard me." My tone was deadly, matching my stare at him.

"You really think the only reason I want you close is because of the sex?" He seemed truly stunned.

"Well, why else would you want me around?" I threw my hands up, walking back down the hallway toward my bedroom. I could hear his footfall behind me. I just continued, stepping into the closet to get dressed.

"What is that supposed to mean? I always want you around."

Rolling my eyes, I clasped my bra on and popped my head out to look at him. "Noah, I'm convenient for you. Unless you have any other valid reasons to keep coming over, I don't know why else it matters."

His jaw dropped open. "That is not true."

Pulling my shirt on, I scoffed. "Please, dude. Spare me the act, okay?"

"What act?"

I pulled my jeans on, buttoning them before stepping out to face him again. "The 'you're my person, and I can't lose you' act." I quoted myself. Something about that pissed him off, because he crossed his own arms and stared me down.

"The fuck are you getting at, Y/N?"

I shook my head, brushing past him, and walked toward the bathroom.

"Noah," I turned to look directly at him. "we've been at this for years. It's kind of old, don't you think?"

His face softened slightly. "We had an agreement."

I nodded. "You're right, we did. Just sex, for the sake of our friendship. That's what you wanted."

"I thought that's what we wanted."

Waving a hand between us, I took a step toward him. "Oh no, Noah. That's what you wanted. Not me."

He was silent, then.

"I wanted more. I always have. I thought that had become clear over the years, but I fucking guess not." I could hear my voice raising a few octaves. "You didn't give me a choice. You came in, broke that boundary, and then put it right back up again. And I stayed, just so I wouldn't lose you."

I could feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes.

His voice came out small, then, his hands now buried in his pockets.

"What do you want from me, Y/N?"

I sighed, letting one tear escape. "I want you to love me."

He pulled his hands out, stepping toward me and taking one of mine. I let him.

"I do love you!"

I stared at him, my teeth ground together. "Do you? The way I love you?"

Noah was a lot of things. He was brilliant, funny, generous, dedicated. He had the most redeeming qualities of anyone I knew.

And sure, he could be stupid. But not that stupid.

He had known how I felt about him. Of course he did. That was why I kissed him every chance I got. Why I always let him in. Why I never dated anyone else. Why I stayed all this time.

But here? In this moment? He was the biggest idiot I knew, because he dropped my hand, his eyes falling with it, and took a step backward.

"I..." He huffed out a breath, looking back up at my tear-stained face. "I can't. I'm sorry."

I averted my eyes, then. I could feel myself breaking, crumbling right before him.

"You need to leave, Noah."

I could feel he wanted to pull back to me, like a moon in orbit of a planet. Gravity. But he didn't. He just stepped back toward the doorway.

"What does this mean?" I heard his voice, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

I sniffed hard, trying like hell to keep myself upright.

"It means you go on tour. Be who you are, Noah. And I'll be who I am. Without each other."

His body shifted, but I was stone, unmoving.

"I can't lose you." I heard him let out a light, sarcastic laugh. "I'll die."

I let myself laugh at that.

"No you won't, Noah. Don't be stupid."

7 Years Later

Residency is going to kill me. I may actually die in pursuit of this God awful career I've chosen. I was three years in to a five year program, intending to finish in General Practice, but until that time, I was just an idiotic twenty-seven year-old with no life, no sleep, and no clean fucking clothes to wear.

Every resident gets exactly forty-eight hours of paid time off every three months, and I had not taken mine in over a year. I finally had taken all of my hours - six days total - off of work, and after spending the entire first day sleeping, I was due to meet with Raylene in an hour.

Ray and I met at the beginning of residency, and quickly gotten close. We managed to find an affordable apartment together within walking distance of the hospital, and spent any rare free time we had together. She was currently at her boyfriend's place, spending some much needed time with him, before we went out for the evening.

I was digging through my unfolded laundry, trying to find something not too wrinkled or stained to wear tonight. Ray had told me we were going to a concert for a band she had recently discovered, but she didn't tell me who it was. I didn't care, to be honest. Existing somewhere other than the Emergency Room or my own bed sounded heavenly.

Finally settling on a deep red cropped t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and the Vans I rarely got to wear, I straightened my hair and applied what little makeup I could. I set out of the building to the waiting vehicle downstairs, Ray practically hanging from the passenger window.

"You look so fine!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Sure. Like I might've slept in the last two weeks?"

She chortled back at me, leaning in her seat once I was in the car. I waved hello to her boyfriend Sean, and gazed at Ray.

"So, Tyler isn't coming."

She frowned at me. "Why not?"

I shrugged. "Said he had a case he was working on, and he really couldn't spare the time."

She rolled her eyes. "Typical lawyer. Too busy for anyone but his clients."

Tyler and I had been dating for about six months now. Maintaining a relationship while having jobs as busy as ours was difficult, but he somehow managed to work it out. He would pop in when he knew I had breaks to bring me food, or have me spend nights off at his place, massaging my neck and helping me get caught up on my favorite series. He was an honest man. A good man.

I liked him.

Right?

It's so hard to tell what's like and what's convenient when you live your life exhausted and overworked, so I didn't have a lot of time to question it.

"Bummer for him. I'm so excited to see this show!" Ray was beaming in the front seat.

"Yeah, who are we seeing, anyway?"

"A band called ERRA. They're opening for a bigger headliner, who I've heard are pretty good too."

I nodded. "I've never heard them."

"It's rock. Metal, really." Sean chimed in, and I acknowledged him silently, looking out of the window.

My mind zoned out while we drove to the House of Blues. Ray and Sean chatted idly up front, but I was just enjoying the fact that I was finally out of the house for once.

That is, until we walked into the venue. The banner poster stared at me, the photographs of the band mocking me...

Bad Omens...they were the headliner.

Memories flooded back to my brain, my insides clenching at the visions.

I hadn't spoken to him since that day...that last day in my apartment. When he left, and never looked back. I didn't even keep in touch with the rest of the guys, for fear that I would be sucked back into the maelstrom that was Noah Davis...

“Y/N?” I turned to see Ray stood behind me, noticing my reaction. “You okay?”

My mind wasn’t comprehending what I was seeing. There’s no way that was them? The last time I had heard of the band, they were one-of-four supporting bands on much larger headliners. Now, they were selling out tickets at their own tour? Seven years was a long time…but how had they gotten this popular?

I wondered this, as if I didn’t know how wildly talented those boys were. Aside from Noah, Nicky, Jolly, and Nick Folio were some of the most intelligent and creative minds I had known. They all brought something special to that band, but I would have never expected this.

Huh. Guess he could live without me after all?

Something bitter crept into the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down, staring at his photograph on the poster.

“Yeah,” I tore my eyes away for a second to look at Raylene. “sorry, I’m fine. Just didn’t realize Bad Omens was the headliner.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of them?”

I pulled my lips to the side. Did I want to tell her?

“Long time ago.”

I couldn’t get past how different he looked in the picture. Last time I saw Noah, his hair was halfway down his back, he was skinny, and he had the thinnest little mustache growing on his upper lip.

In these promo pictures, however, his hair was short, not even reaching his ears, he looked much more muscular, and he had no facial hair. He also had many more tattoos than I remembered. That wasn’t surprising. Noah was a tattoo addict from a very young age.

Jolly had let his hair grow and had the cutest goatee on his chin. Nicky looked almost exactly the same. And Nick, bless his heart, had grown into such a handsome guy. They all looked so grown, so serious and broody. It almost made me giggle, knowing how goofy these guys were in real life.

Noah looked the most stunningly different from the rest. Not only did his entire appearance change, but his eyes…something in them was just so much darker. That harsh flame I had once known was so dim. It almost hurt to see. Almost.

We were making our way out to the pit of the GA floor. I had decided to get myself a cocktail to take the edge off. I didn't plan to come face-to-face with him, and likely wouldn't even get the opportunity to get a good look at him period, but still...just knowing we were in the same room made my throat tighten. I washed it down with Vodka and cranberry juice, hoping the warmth of the liquor would unfreeze my nerves.

The first band, Invent Animate, was entertaining enough. Very interactive with the crowd and high-energy. I found it pleasant, but couldn't get myself to focus long enough to notice what they were singing about. I struggled to breathe, the set ending, and knowing I was one hour closer to seeing his face.

During the intermission, Ray excused herself to the restroom, and I stood with Sean, feeling dizzier as the moments passed.

"Hey, I think I'm going to step out for a second. Get some air."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "You okay? Want me to come with?"

I shook my head. "Nah, don't want you to miss the band you guys came to see. I'll be back."

He nodded, patting me on the shoulder before I weaved in and out of the crowd. I discarded my plastic cup in a trash can before exiting out into the main lobby. I found a spot on the wall near the doors that was unoccupied, and leaned against it, letting my eyes close and my breathing even out.

When I opened my eyes, I searched the room, looking for nothing specific. I landed on the merch tables, and saw someone oddly familiar talking to the lead singer of the last band we had watched...

The liquid courage is what carried me in that direction, smiling to myself.

He stood with his hair pulled back, as usual, and was talking with his hands. Same as he always did.

"Nicky Ruffilo..." I said loud enough to hopefully catch his attention, my hands now grasping the edge of the table.

His head snapped over to look at me, his brows knit together curiously. I could tell he was putting it together.

"No fucking way..." His voice sounded the same as it always had. "Y/N?!"

My teeth flashed at him, and he circled the table to approach me, his arms pulling me into a tight hug.

"Jesus Christ, I didn't recognize you!" That was fair.

Since the last time I had seen any of the guys, I had bleached my hair a pale blonde, lost twenty-five pounds, and had grown two cup sizes. I was, for all intents and purposes, an entirely different person.

"Yeah, well I absolutely recognized you." I said as I gripped his shirt, squeezing him tight.

"How long has it been?" He asked, pulling back to look at me.

"Uh," I thought for a moment. "seven-ish years?"

Nick's eyes were in disbelief, an amazed leer on his face. "God damn, girl. I can't believe it."

I pointed to the banner above his head. "Headlining now, huh? That's amazing!"

He smiled, proudly. "Yeah, we've worked really hard. A lot's changed."

My eyes fell on Noah's face on the poster. "I can see that."

I could tell he was pondering, a question hanging on the edge of his tongue. It was the most obvious question, so I answered for him.

"He doesn't know I'm here."

He nodded, leaning an arm on the table comfortably. "Ah, okay. You didn't want him to?"

I snorted. "I didn't even know I'd be here. My friends came to see ERRA, and that's when I realized you guys were here."

"Makes sense." He had crossed his arms. "Do you want him to know?"

Contemplating this, I let my face fall to get away from his gaze. I wasn't certain how to answer that, but it seemed like the answer was clear regardless.

"No." I sighed hard. "It's probably for the best that he doesn't, right?"

I couldn't read Nick's face, if he was disappointed or relieved. He seemed to be pretty satisfied with my answer, but I could tell he had more he wished he could say.

"Fair enough." Was all he gave me, before letting out a breath. "So, you still live up here?"

I let my muscles relax for a second. "Yeah, doing a residency at Brigham right now."

"Residency? Does that mean you're a doctor?" He asked, clearly confused.

I cackled at this. "Yeah, full blown doctor. Got the little 'MD' after my name and everything."

He beamed at me. "That's so great! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Nicky." It fell quiet between us once again, and I could hear ERRA's set beginning. "Well, I should probably-"

He spoke over me. "Yeah! Those guys put on a great show. Don't miss it!"

I gave him another hug, reveling in how warm he still felt.

Turning to walk away, I stopped, needing one last thing...

"Nick?"

His face turned back to me.

"How is he?"

I could see the sadness fall over his tan features, and I instantly regretted asking.

"He's..." He trailed off, taking in a large breath. "He's different, Y/N. I doubt you'd recognize him."

"How so?"

Something about my question almost seemed to annoy him. Odd?

"Like I said, a lot has changed. He's changed. He had to." He gestured to me. "Same way you did."

I accepted this, not wanting to press any further. "Thanks, Nick."

He pointed a finger at me. "Hey, we're going to be back here in the fall for a couple days. Don't be a stranger, okay?" I grinned at this. "I know Jolly and Folio would kill to see you."

I just nodded, turning and walking away. My eyes met with Ray's, who was standing, watching my interaction. How much had she seen? Did she hear anything?

"Hey, what are you doing? You're missing ERRA!"

Her brows were pulled up suspiciously. "Who was that?" She pointed after Nick, who had now disappeared from the merch table.

I shook my head. "Oh, that guy? He's the bassist in the headliner band."

This wasn't good enough for her, I could tell by the way she pursed her lips. "Uh-huh. And...you just decided to chat him up like old friends?"

I groaned. "Ugh, how long were you standing there?"

She put all her weight on one hip. "Long enough to see you two talking like you've known each other before. Care to explain?"

Raylene was so nosey. She came by it honestly, her father being a police detective. But still, why did this matter?

"It's not a big deal, Ray. I'll tell you later."

I pulled on her arm, trying to lead her back to the concert hall, but she stood firm, eyeing me. I sucked my teeth in frustration.

"Damn it, alright, come here."

She followed me to the doors leading outside, and we stepped into the cool air.

"Alright, look, I've known Nick since I was ten."

Her eyes jumped. "Oh? Back in West Virginia?"

I nodded. "Exactly. I had no idea their band was going to be here."

"Do you know anyone else in the band?"

I glanced around, feeling wildly uncomfortable by the conversation.

"I may know the entire band."

Her eyes exploded, nearly shooting out of her face cartoonistically.

"What?! The whole band?" I just nodded. "Jesus, Y/N. That's insane!"

I giggled. "I guess. It's just a coincidence."

She smiled at me. "Well that's awesome! Do you want to see the rest of them after? They're doing a free merch signing."

Panic filled my chest, and I put a hand out to grab her shoulder. "No, no. I don't, uh..." I tried to keep my voice solid. "I don't keep in touch with them anymore."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh? Okay, if you're sure." Something in my voice must have made her feel my anxiety.

We turned, ready to make our way back inside.

"It is too bad. The lead singer's a real looker. I heard one of the girls in the crowd say his name was Noah Sebastian? He's pretty cute."

I almost walked straight into the door, my foot banging off of the pillar. Ray turned around to see me, and something about the look on my face made realization flash over her.

"Oh my God, are you ok-" She stopped dead, eyes widening again. "Wait..."

"Ray, don't." I knew what she had figured out.

"Noah..." I put my hands up, glancing around to ensure no one was looking at us. "As in...Noah? Your old best friend?!"

I shushed her harshly. "Please, Ray. I don't want to think about this."

"That's the guy?! Noah Sebastian is the guy that broke your heart?!"

I was going to actually vomit at that.

"Fuck! Can we not?!" I raised my voice, which made her snap her mouth closed. "Besides, I don't know a Noah Sebastian."

She looked confused. "Is that not his real name?"

I rolled my eyes, turning to walk back in. "It's his middle name."

I spaced out most of what was left of ERRA's set, just trying to put the pieces back together in my brain. This night had not turned into what I had hoped.

I just wanted one night, an easy night, to take a deep breath away from my hectic life. Instead, I was reliving some of my most painful memories, and had a headache to go right along with it from the alcohol. My chest vibrated, the bass just making it so much more difficult to focus.

I stood off of the GA floor, near the bar area, not even realizing the band had finished, and people were swarming to grab drinks and use the restrooms before the men of the evening appeared. Ray approached me, another Vodka cran in her hand, and pushed it into mine.

"Here my love, drink this." I took a long gulp of it. "Do you want us to go? We don't have to stay..."

My eyes were fixed on the stage, where I could see people setting up the equipment. "No." I huffed out a breath, and squeezed my cup. "No, I want to see them play, I think."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're sure? This can't be easy for you."

My eyes burned into her face, which almost made her flinch. "I may never get to see him again, Ray. I have to."

She just nodded, arm linking with mine. "You want to watch from up here?"

I nodded, crunching on a piece of ice from my drink. "No chance of him spotting me back here."

She affirmed my request, and leaned back against the wall with me.

I felt my phone vibrate, and I pulled it from my pocket to see Tyler's name on the screen.

Tyler: Hey beautiful! How's the show?

I held my breath. What kind of a question was that?

Me: Fine. Almost over, just one band left.

He didn't take but a minute to respond.

Tyler: Having fun?

Ha, what a joke.

Me: Yeah. I've had some drinks, so it's helping.

Tyler: Well, enjoy it baby! You deserve it.

That wasn't fair. None of it was. Having to see Noah? The fact that I had an amazing guy, who genuinely liked me, who waited for me. But I still couldn't get my mind off of that irritatingly beautiful face about to take the stage.

The lights went down, and I felt myself tense, throwing back the rest of my drink. My teeth were numb, if that made any sense at all. Ray's hand gripped mine tight, holding me up.

A cinematic scene played on the screens, but I wasn't watching, eyes hastily searching the stage.

A tall man, who I instantly recognized as Jolly, stepped center-stage, a guitar in his hand playing the opening riff to the song. It was heavy, deep and soul shaking.

Folio came out next, his face, like Jolly's, covered in a black ski mask.

Nick took his spot, playing his bass tones.

And then, as the opening crescendoed, a voice rang through the speakers.

A voice I'd never forget.

"Can you hear me through the white noise?"

He blasted onto the stage, glory and all, face covered and thick black jacket on his shoulders.

He sounded different. Angry. Raw, Aggressive. The feeling that sank in my stomach pulled me back further against the wall.

The song played through, his words pulsing through my veins.

As quick as it had started, it was over, and we were on to the next.

The next track was calmer, red lights glowing all throughout the stage.

They had all removed their masks, and I saw his face for the first time. He looked so much older, making it difficult for me to believe he was the same person.

The words of the song resonated deep in my thoughts.

"I don't want to know all your secrets, cause I'll tell. It's hard enough being alone with myself. I don't know how long I'll be holding on..."

Breathing deeply, I watched as the crowd moved with the music, electrifying the energy in the room. It was intoxicating.

Noah had changed...

The set played on without hitch, the entire time I caught myself holding in breaths until I felt my lungs nearly bursting. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, feeling the familiar ache beginning to creep back in.

The music stopped, and a bunch of lights came up. By this time, Noah had discarded his jacket, button-up, and only stood in a black tank top, hands wrapped in what looked like boxing wraps?

"Alright, Boston, how we feeling?" His speaking voice even sounded different...

The crowd erupted.

"We are Bad Omens, and we sincerely appreciate you all being here tonight. The next song we are going to play for you all has been the biggest turning point this band has ever seen." I heard the screams, and did my best to tune them out so I could hear his words. "Is anyone familiar with a song called Just Pretend?"

The room rocked with the cheers and chants of the crowd.

"That volume that I just heard? That's the volume I want to hear you sing this with me, okay? Don't worry about trying to hit the perfect note or get all of the words right. It's about us all, being here together tonight."

The music played softly behind him when his lips reached the microphone.

"I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I can wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you..."

My heart twisted in my chest.

"I'm not afraid, of the war you've come to wage against my sins. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend. So will you wait me out? Or will you drown me out?"

The tears pooled in my eyes. No fucking way. The song played on, mocking me with the lyrics.

"I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face. And not a day goes by where I don't think I feel the same."

"We'll try again, when we're not so different. We will make amends, till then I'll just pretend."

My hands came up to cover my face, my lip trembling hard.

"Weigh down on me. Stay till morning. Way down. Would you say I'm worthy?"

I choked on a sob, my legs pushing me forward, and I ran out of the room. I felt my stomach lurching, my mouth clamping closed as I ran toward the bathroom.

I heard Ray chasing behind me. "Y/N! Wait!"

Flying into the bathroom and finding the first open stall, I fell to my knees, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. My hands gripped my hair, tears falling hard down my face.

"Oh God, babe." Ray reached to grab my hair from me as I wretched all of the Vodka out of my stomach, my heart and soul pouring out with it.

When I finished, I let my chest heave with sobs, my hand covering my eyes in ebarrassment.

"Fuck, Ray." I said as I wiped my face with the tissue she handed me. "I've got to get the hell out of here."

She nodded. "Okay, my love. Let's do that."

After a solid twenty minutes of cleaning myself up in the bathroom, we stepped out, noticing the crowd now formed outside, waiting at the table for the band to come out for the signing. Ray was frantically dialing Sean, trying to find him among the sea of people. I just plopped myself down on the floor near the restroom, trying to relax as best as I could.

"Y/N?" I looked up at her. "I have to go find Sean. He isn't answering. Can you wait here for me?"

I just nodded, defeated. She was gone, lost within the abyss of people, and I sat, waiting, head in my hands.

I was pulled out of my stupor by the sound of cheering. The band had come out, all waving and smiling. I didn't even bother chancing a glance at him, for fear I may vomit again.

Ray had not come back yet, despite the four or five texts I had now sent her. I had been waiting for a solid thirty minutes, people watching the line and avoiding seeing his face. The ropes of the line were blocking my view of the faces sitting at the table.

After another fifteen, Ray finally bounded up to me, out of breath, Sean in tow.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry! That crowd is vicious!"

I stood slowly, the room only slightly spinning. I swallowed the dry, disgusting feeling in my throat, and began moving toward the exits that were now mostly clear.

"Let's go." She nodded at me, and took my arm. We had to wait behind several people trying to all get through the same revolving door. My skin felt spiky and cold.

"Hang on! Wait!"

A voice behind me made ice run through my veins, and I closed my eyes, begging whatever God existed to spare me in this moment.

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I tensed, turning my face, and my eyes looked straight at him.

He had spotted me, running from his table to catch me. He had to have been pretty damn sure it was me to chase after me like that. Fans began to crowd us, camera phones coming out, pictures snapping.

The look on his face was much less certain than I expected, as if he possibly made a mistake.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was unsteady. "Do I," He cleared his throat, eyes bouncing back and forth between my own. "know you?"

My eyebrows shot up. He really didn't recognize me?

He thought he did, but now...

"No. I don't think so." I spit out my words, teeth grinding together. It felt exactly the same as the last time I had seen him.

He dropped his hand, eyes still transfixed on mine. "I swore..."

I just turned my body, pressing my way past the gathered crowd, not giving him the chance to think it through.

In the car, I stared out the back window, arms wrapped around myself.

"What did he say, honey?" Ray's voice was so gentle.

"He didn't recognize me. He thought he did, but once he got up close, I guess I look too different." My words were only a peg above a whisper.

"You going to be okay? I don't have to stay at Sean's."

I just wiped the stray tear off of my cheek. "It's fine. I'd rather be alone."

-

A long, scalding shower, two handfuls of shredded cheese, and a solid half-hour crying session later, I was laid catatonically on my bed, eyes staring at the screen as Grey's Anatomy flashed across my screen.

I had blanked my mind out, forcing myself to let the thoughts go for the night. I was too tired and broken to let my heart hurt like this again. It took a solid year to get over Noah enough that I was able to function again. My first year of med school was disappointing, and I didn't make any friends until I made it into the second year. It took me nearly three to start dating.

I couldn't do that again.

I had been ignoring the texts going off on my phone, assuming it was Ray just checking on me for the thousandth time. I did, however, decide to take a look when I heard my ringtone going off.

Who would be calling me at 2AM?

I didn't even bother checking the screen before I put the phone up to my ear, my voice hoarse from crying.

"Hello?"

"What are the odds that you haven't changed your number after all this time?"

I sat bolt upright, my voice catching in my throat. The voice on the other end sounded nearly as wrecked as mine.

"Noah?" It barely came out.

"It's been a long time."

I cleared the newly formed phlegm out of my throat. "It has."

"I knew that was you." It sounded deadly quiet in the background of his end of the line. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming tonight?"

I sighed. "Nick told you?"

"He might've."

I groaned. "Well, I asked him not to."

"Why?"

I scoffed. "What do you mean, why?" I rubbed my eyes. "We're not exactly speaking anymore, Noah."

He hummed. "That's true."

I chewed on my lip, not having any kind of clue of what to say.

"What did you think?"

"Of the show?"

"Mhm."

I sighed. "It was good. Different than what I would have expected."

A soft laugh came through the line. "How so?"

I smiled at that. "It's just a lot different than what I expected your music to sound like."

"In a bad way?"

"No. Not at all."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." His voice was so serious. So monotone. Nothing at all like what I remembered.

The line fell silent again, and I found this irritating. What was he playing at?

"Why did you call, Noah?"

I heard a breath on the other end, and some rustling. "I don't know."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have."

"Maybe. I wanted to hear your voice."

My stomach tightened. "Now you have. I should go."

"Wait..." I held the phone firm, waiting. "I want to see you."

My heart pounded. "What?"

"I need to see you." His words were so matter-of-fact.

"I don't think so, Noah. That's not a great idea."

"It's not, but I'm asking..." He sounded so small. "Can I please see you?"

I perused the idea. "When?"

"Now?"

I scrunched up my face, sitting up again. "Now? It's after two in the morning."

"I don't care. I'll come to wherever you are."

This struck me. Maybe he hadn't changed?

"I, uh," I struggled to speak. "Noah, I don't know. I'm at home, it's late. I should be sleeping."

"Y/N?" I stopped, listening. "Please?"

I am a weak woman, and that is just plain fact. I was frantically running throughout the apartment, attempting to tidy any kind of mess I could get my hands on. Ray and I hadn't taken the time to really clean in months, so it was stressing me out. My pajama pants were hanging low on my hips, and I swam in my large sweatshirt.

My hair was falling loose around my face, and I was sure my eyes were puffy from the crying I had done. How insane was I? Had I completely lost it?

It was almost 3AM when a knock came at my apartment door, and I froze in place. What was I doing? Why was I allowing this to happen? I didn't need to do this to myself.

I was fine, living in my normal, tired bubble. I was headed towards a successful career that would take me further than I ever imagined. Why was I allowing this trainwreck of a friendship back into my life? What was I thinking?!

I wasn't. That was the answer to that question.

I opened the door, not sure what to expect on the other side. He stood, still as tall as I remembered, looming in the doorway. He wore a black hoodie, hands tucked neatly in the pocket. Dark blue jeans and black Converse. A white beanie covering his hair.

Like this, he looked almost recognizable. Except for his eyes...

Just like in the photograph I had seen earlier, his eyes were so dark. There was very little life behind them. Deep blue circles hung under the rims, making a pull in my chest show itself.

I just stood, blocking the doorway, hand white-knuckling the frame.

"Hi." Was all he managed. He was staring at me, eyes moving up and down my face as if he was seeing an apparition.

"Hi." I echoed, trying to not feel out of place under his stare.

"I'm glad you agreed to see me." He didn't move an inch, his jaw ticking closed with his last work.

I just nodded, letting out all of my air. "Yeah, well, you were insistent."

He nodded, finally looking away from me and down at the ground.

"I had to."

I pursed my lips, narrowing my eyes. "Did you?" He raised a brow at me. "Did you just have to see me? Because I think we probably would've been alright without it."

I could see his face fall, hurt by what I said, but I didn't care. He never did.

"I'm sorry. I know it's selfish."

"Mm," I pinched my lips together, and opened my door wider. "come in."

I stalked back into the house, not daring to look back at him. I heard the door shut behind me, and I steadied myself, expecting to turn around and see him vanished.

To my chagrin, he was still there.

Deciding not to stagnate, I walked into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of tea from the fridge, and walking back out to the living area. He hadn't moved, and was still staring at me.

"So." I motioned to him. "What can I do for you?"

Noah was so statuesque, as if carved right out of stone. "I don't really know."

My face lifted, a smirk on my lips. "You don't know? Noah," I placed a hand on my hip. "you show up here at 3AM, and you have no idea why?"

He shrugged, eyes begging me for mercy. "I'm sorry. I don't."

"Can you stop apologizing and just tell me why you're here?!" My patience snapped, startling even me.

This took him back, but instead of tucking tail and backing away, he stood straighter, face hardening.

"I can't tell you why I'm here if I don't know, alright?" His words were stern.

"Well you must have some kind of reason? Because this feels wildly unnecessary."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "It is? So you didn't want to see me?"

I set my tea on the coffee table and stood nonchalantly. "Not really."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't buy it." He took a step toward me, but I stood firm. "If you didn't you wouldn't have stayed, tonight. You would've left after you saw the band your friends went to see."

He was closer now, and it felt like a string had tethered between us, the tension slowly slacking.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see your set. See how the band was doing."

He snickered at me. "Oh, sure. Of course." His hands finally appeared from his pockets, one running over his chin. "Which song was your favorite?"

Oop. I wasn't expecting that.

"The second one. Villain, or something?"

He nodded. "Like A Villain." Noah's eyes weren't buying it. "Which one did you like least?"

I scoffed. "I don't know, Noah? The first one?"

"Mm, and which one was that?"

I was swallowing the lump in my throat. I couldn't remember, the night blurring together.

"Uh, I don't know the name."

He took a step back, triumphant. "You weren't there for the set. You wanted to see me."

Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms. "Still as self-absorbed as ever, I see?"

"Am I wrong?"

He had me backed into a corner, and he fucking knew it.

I threw my arms up. "Fine! Maybe I did. But you wanted to see me too."

He sneered at me, venom on his lips. "Obviously, or else I wouldn't be here."

"You still haven't said why."

"Why did you want to see me?"

My voice was raising, frustration growing. "I don't know!"

"I don't know either!" He yelled back at me, and my mouth snapped closed. Noah never raised his voice at me. Not ever.

He took three long strides over to me until he was only stood a foot away.

"I didn't expect to ever see you again, Y/N! I thought you were gone forever! So imagine my surprise when I see you walking out of the House of Blues, and you deny even knowing me!"

I felt like shrinking into a ball right there on the floor, ceasing to exist.

"I wanted to see you because how could I not?! Seven fucking years, Y/N!" He backed down for a second, his breathing becoming ragged. "I've been waiting seven years."

I furrowed my brow. "Waiting?"

"For you to reach out. To tell me you missed me. To give me some kind of indication we could reconcile and be us again."

There was a fire, deep down in my gut, that I had never been able to truly extinguish. A fire Noah had lit years ago. A mine shaft burning like the depths of hell in my belly that I had buried under concrete and therapy, keeping it at bay.

In my apartment, tonight, that fire broke loose. And there was no stopping it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I took a step forward, pressing into his space, index finger jabbing into his chest. "I was supposed to reach out?!"

He took a step back, eyes now full of fear.

"I professed my love to you, Noah! I told you I wanted you, and you fucking left!"

He puffed at me, pointing a finger back at me. "You told me to leave!'

"Yes! Because you told me you didn't love me! You told me you couldn't love me the way I loved you!"

He squeezed his lids shut tight, growling and turning away from me, taking several steps away. His hands came up, gripping the beanie on his head.

"God damn it Y/N!" He turned to look at me, a fiery rage matching my own behind his eyes. "Of course I fucking loved you!"

My heart stopped, completely motionless.

"What?"

"I've always loved you! From the moment I laid fucking eyes on you! I've never loved anyone, no one, the way I loved you!" He charged me, backing me toward the couch. "But I couldn't love you, Y/N! I wasn't good enough. I was a piss-poor high school dropout musician trying to make a name for himself, and, until recently, failing miserably."

I couldn't speak, thoughts racing so fast, I struggled to keep up.

"And you?" He pointed a finger back into my chest. "You were smart, and motivated, and you were going to make something of yourself. I couldn't drag you down with me. I couldn't force you to follow this journey with me. It would've ruined your life!"

My lungs weren't working right, and my hands were shaking. He wasn't actually saying this. I was hallucinating.

"So I left. I left to give you a chance at a real life. Which, evidently, you've managed to build without me." He took a step back, then, dropping his hands. "And I, somehow, without you."

This hurt me, hearing he had managed to become so successful, despite my involvement.

"Noah, I had no idea-"

"No," He cut me off. "you didn't."

I hadn't even caught the tears falling from my eyes, blurring my vision until he was just a watery mess in front of me.

"You didn't need me." I choked out, and he looked directly at me, inquisitively. "You've made it so far. You're a rockstar now, Noah."

He scoffed. "Y/N, you don't get it." He looked away from me, focused on the wall behind me. "I died without you. Something inside of me was lost the day I left, and I never got it back."

"Well, you're successful now, so it can't be so bad, right?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Success always comes with a price."

My lips were wet with the tears I couldn't hold in, and I couldn't keep my breathing even. I knew he saw it, but hesitated to engage, wanting to keep a wide berth between us. I couldn't take it. It was too much.

Hearing he loved me. Hearing I had been wrong all this time. Hearing that the heartbreak I felt for so long wasn't his fault. He was protecting me, even after all these years.

"Noah?" He chanced a glance at me, and I saw his own eyes sparkling with moisture.

I couldn't take it.

I rushed him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and clinging on, desperate to find relief against him. My lips smashed into his, tearing apart the barrier I had worked so hard to build.

His hands grabbed me, holding me into place against him, his lips melted into mine, returning the kiss fervently. We were hopeless. We were hungry.

My tears didn't stop flowing, emotion pouring out of every pore. My fingers clawed at him, needing to get closer. My hand grabbed the beanie, and pulled it off of his head, his dark hair falling over his eyes. I gripped it at the scalp, trying to pull myself closer.

Feeling what I was attempting to do, his hands lifted me by the back of my legs, so I could wrap them around his midsection. I refused to disconnect the kiss, breathing in his soul. It was so real and so familiar. How I missed it like hell.

His legs carried us to the couch, where he sat us down. My legs straddled him, and I finally pulled away to tug at the sweatshirt he wore. He made quick work of pulling it up over his head while I did the same with my own. Reconnecting our lips, my hands wandered over his neck and chest, scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

His teeth caught my bottom lip, and I moaned into his mouth. His fingers pulled at the waistband of my pajama pants, and I lifted myself enough to slip them off, replacing myself on his lap. His jeans were already getting tighter as his hands smoothed up and down my thighs.

"Fucking hell." He looked down, staring at my bare breasts in front of him. "These got bigger, huh?"

I laughed, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, well, things change."

His fingers gripped around my left breast, lips falling to circle around the hardened nipple. I let my head fall back, relishing in the warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

"Still so fucking beautiful, just like I remember." I pulled at the hair on the back of his neck. "Did you miss me, baby girl?"

I ground my hips down against him in response. His hand began playing with the button of his jeans, and I moved it away to open them myself.

I stood up to pull his jeans down to his knees, his boxers bulging in the crotch.

"Oh, fuck." I sighed out. "Yeah, I missed you."

His smile then was devious, some of that regular spark shining back in his eyes. "Then show me, huh?"

Reaching into the opening of his underwear, I pulled his cock free, taking a moment to remember just how large it was. It had been a very long time since I had seen anything quite that impressive. Dipping my head down, I licked a long stripe up the shaft, lingering on the head to gather the precome leaking out.

"Holy shit." His head fell back on the couch, his eyes rolling back with it. "Mm, do that again, please?"

I smirked, looking up at him. "Only since you asked so nicely."

My tongue repeated the movement, drawing out a hard groan out of him, his legs twitching. "Fuck yeah, baby."

Without warning, I wrapped my lips around him and swallowed him as far down as my throat would allow, gagging on the tip as it struck my tonsils. His hips jolted upward, effectively fucking my throat.

"Please, Y/N, I won't last that way." He begged, his words only coming out as breaths. "I need to feel you, please."

He was begging, and I couldn't resist it. I needed him too.

I stood back up, and kneeled on either side of him, carefully lining him up with my entrance. When I sunk down, that delicious burn pierced through me, and my body collapsed onto him at the intensity of it.

"Noah, oh my God." He ran a hand up my back, allowing me a moment to adjust.

"I know, baby. I know." He soothed me, rubbing small circles into my skin.

My hips stuttered forward, needing to feel the friction. His hand reached down to grab my ass, and lifted me upward. Without warning, his hips snapped forward and fucked into me, making a sharp scream leave my lips.

My face rested on his chest, whimpers falling from my throat with each hard thrust.

"Fuck, you missed me, pretty girl?" He was panting between his words, his rhythm picking up speed. "Missed the way I fuck you?"

My eyes were rolling back, the tears from before now replaced with tears of raw pleasure.

"I'll bet you've never been fucked like this, huh?" His words were just tones of desire playing in my ears, his cock absolutely destroying me. "No one can fuck you like I can, baby. No one."

My nails dug hard into his shirt, begging for release.

"Let me know when you come, baby. Not finishing until you do."

Luckily for him, I was riding the edge so hard it was making the room spin. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I lifted myself to look at his face.

"Noah," I searched his eyes, his hips not faltering. "I love you."

He grit his teeth, trying to focus on me and his hips at the same time. "I love you, too. So fucking much."

My face fell back down, landing on the side of his neck. "I'm going to come. Please, Noah, I'm so close..."

He, somehow, managed to pump into me harder, sending my body over the cliff and into the warm waves of my orgasm. My body went slack against him as my walls pulsed around his length.

I heard him curse, and his hips stilled. I felt him spasming inside me, and silently thanked myself for my IUD.

We laid that way, sweaty and heaving, for a solid ten minutes before either of us could find the strength to move. I slipped him out of me, and sat up to look at him. He looked absolutely wrecked, in the best possible way.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread over me.

"Hi." Was all I could manage.

He chuckled tiredly. "Hi."

-

After our excursion, Noah and I had taken a few minutes to clean up, and, being as exhausted as you'd expect, decided to lay together for a while.

He told me he had to leave within a few hours to get back to his hotel, heading to the next city bright and early, so I told him I'd stay up until he had to leave.

However, in my bed, his arms wrapped tightly around me, his voice whispering sweet words in my ears, I struggled to remain conscious.

"Do you remember when I bought you that Oasis album for your fourteenth birthday? That was basically me professing my love to you."

"I was such an idiot. I should've just told you."

"You have no idea how much I've missed you. I don't think you'll ever understand."

"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different..."

And that's how I woke up, light in my bedroom far too bright, and my bed empty.

I don't know what I expected? For him to stay? Fuck off his tour to make up for lost time with me?

But still, my chest stung when I saw he had left, but I wasn't surprised.

Something had changed last night, and the darkness that lingered in the depths of my being had lifted, leaving me with a sense of hope I hadn't felt before.

When I had woken for the day, clearing the cobwebs from my eyes, I contemplated my next move. He had surely left town already, but that didn't mean I couldn't keep in touch, right?

Pulling out my phone, I found his contact, and opened a text thread.

Me: Hey, call me when you can. I think we have a lot to talk about. :)

I set my phone down on the bathroom counter, preparing to brush my teeth when my phone dinged, and the notification told me the text had failed.

Odd?

I resent it, getting the same response.

Why would my messages fail? I paid my bill, right?

Quickly dialing Ray's number, I held the phone to my ear and heard the ringing, so I knew my service was fine. Giving her a quick apology for waking her, I hung up, and went back to my texts.

His number was the same, right?

I went back to my call logs, seeing it was his number that called me last night, so it was the same as it had always been.

So...what the hell?

My finger hovered over the number for a moment, and I weighed the options before finally resolving to just call him. Make sure I wasn't losing my mind.

I held the phone to my face as I started brushing my teeth, waiting for the call to connect.

"The number you have reached is not in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please hang up and try your call again."

[callsign-dexter]

Sizzling Heat 18+

Request: Taming the Flame was really sooo hot ! 🥵 I loved it !

How here I am requesting a continuation for it maybe where their shift ends and he immediately takes her home with him, having another sexy time (maybe even while taking a shower together) and this time he doesn't need her to be quiet ? 🙊😉

Pairings: Kelly Severide x Paramedic!Reader

Warnings: smut, fluff

First Installment: Taming the Flame

Second Installment: Sizzling Heat

Masterlist

A/N: @gunsandguardians and @imagine-all-the-fandoms I hope you're prepared for some Kelly Severide smut....

The end of the shift was finally here and you were ready to head home and get into bed. “Sooo, you got any plans tonight?” Gabby asked, smirking and nudging you as you changed out of your uniform and into regular clothes. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smirk.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You said 

“Sure. It's not like you tamed the flame to a sizzling heat.” She said and you felt yourself go warm. You picked up your bag ready to head and so was following suit. As you walked out of the changing room you ran into Kelly, literally ran into him. 

“Oof.” You said as his hands shot out to steady you and you looked up.

“Well, hello there.” He said 

“Hi.” You said completely forgetting that Gabby was with you and smirking.

“I'll leave you two alone.” She said making herself known, smirking and nudging you and you flipped her off. She just laughed and walked off. 

“So, you got plans?” He asked and you returned your gaze to him.

“I was planning to go home and crawl into bed.” You said and he shook his head.

“Nope you're coming home with me and we're going to take a shower together...” He said moving closer to you backing you into the way and he moved his face close to yours. You could feel his breath hitting your face and smell his cologne mixed with smoke from the calls that he hadn't washed off, it made you weak in the knees. “and you know what?” He asked breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“What?” You asked breathlessly.

“You won't have to be quiet.” He said and you thought your knees were weak before but you all about collapsed if he wasn't holding you up. He nipped your earlobe as he stood up when he heard footsteps walking your way. 

“You two heading home?” Boden asked and you looked over at him and nodded not trusting your voice.

“Yes, sir. We are.” Kelly said for the both of you.

“Good you both deserve your 3 days off. You both worked hard.” He said and then was walking off and Kelly was turning towards you.

“I'll meet you at my place?” He asked and you simply nodded and he smirked. He knew what he was doing and he knew that he could rile you up by saying just the simplest things and damn was he good at it. 

“Yes.” You said and he smiled and nodded and headed out. You stood there for a few minutes before following him. You got into your car and followed behind him. Clothes be damned you weren't going to be leaving his apartment for the three days and you weren't going to want to and to be honest Kelly wasn't going to let you. Well at least not until you were fucked out and satisfied and you knew you would be by what pleasure he gave you in his quarters. 

It wasn’t even 5 minutes and you were pulled into a parking spot by this truck and the both of you were getting out at the same time. You grabbed your bag that actually had a few clean clothes left in it but you had a feeling that you wouldn’t be in them or at bare minimum and you had a feeling that you would be wearing a lot of Kelly’s clothing. Kelly met you in front of your car and he gently grabbed your face but he smashed his lips hard against you and kissed you with so much passion and fire that it was knocking the breath out of you and making you weak in the knees. You answered his kiss with the same passion and fire and you only stopped when you felt a drop of rain fall on you. “Let’s get inside so I can make you scream and you can let everyone know who is pleasuring you.” He said in a low voice. The things he was saying to you was just building up the need for him.

“What are you waiting for?” You asked and he smirked.

“Fuck you shouldn’t have said that.” He said as he took your hand and hurriedly walked through the parking lot as soon as you stepped into the building the rain started to pour. He quickly rushed you both to the elevator and he aggressively pushed it, thankfully it was already on the lobby floor and as soon as the door opened, he was pulling you in, pressing the button for his floor and trapping your body against his and the wall. Bags falling to the ground. He was quick to attack your lips with a feverish kiss with one hand on the side of your head and the other holding your waist. When air was needed, he pulled away but his head was going into your neck as his hand that was on your face went to the wall to stabilize himself. You moved your head to give him better access and your eyes closed.

“Kels.” You moaned and let out a little yelp when he nipped your neck but then he was soothing it with his tongue which had you moaning louder and he smirked. The elevator suddenly stopped and the elevator opened and you two were quick to pull away and he was quick to stand next you. His elderly neighbor 6 doors down, Mrs. Wilder, got in.

“Kelly! It's so nice to see you.” She said and he smiled.

“Hello, Mrs. Wilder. We just got off work and we're spending time together.” He said and then she realized that you were standing there next to him.

“Oh, hi dear! I'm so sorry, I didn't introduce myself! I'm Anna Wilder. I live next to Kelly.” She said and you waved at her shyly.

“It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N.” You said. Thankfully the ride wasn't much longer and before you knew it the doors were opening. Kelly picked up both of your bags and the three of you headed to his apartment while Mrs. Wilder went to hers. As soon as you were in you were being pushed against the door and he was kissing you and you followed suit. Teeth were clashing together as tongues battled for dominance. “Shower.” You said into his lips. 

“Jump.” He said and you did so and he walked you towards his bedroom and into the bathroom. He sat you on the counter and left you there you whined but he ignored you as he turned his shower to warm. Then he was bringing his attention back to you, kissing you. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and you nodded into the kiss and he was taking your shirt off and he only broke the kiss to do so. After he took off your shirt, he began to kiss you again and still continued to do so while he took off your pants leaving you only in your bra and underwear. Your hands went to his hips and you pulled him closer when he was close you worked on getting his belt buckle undone and his pants along with his underwear pushed down which he helped kick off. He took off his shirt and he bared to you and you hand went to his cock and started to jerk him off.

“Shower.” You murmured against his lips as you continued to jerk him off.

“But I love kissing you here.” He said pulling away to look at you in your eyes.

“I do too but I would like for you to make me scream.” You said and his pupils dilated even more than they were. You were quick to shed your bra and underwear and the two of you were jumping into the shower more like he was carrying you into the shower under the steaming water, warmth instantly hitting you and you moaned. Kelly gently sat you down and held you until you were secure on your feet and then he was kissing your neck and backing you against the wall. He ran his hands up and down your body until one of his hands got to where you needed him the most. He ran his fingers through your slick folds and made you moan. “Fuck, Baby. Keep that up.” You moaned again he bit your neck and you yelped but then he was soothing it with his tongue.

“I plan on it.” He said and slipped two thick digits into your entrance and you couldn’t contain your moan and he smirked. “That’s right, Baby. Let everyone know that I’m making you feel this good.” He said and moved his fingers in and out of you at a slow steady pace and it was making you see stars especially when he curled his fingers and hit your g-spot just right. His other hand came up and caressed one of your breasts and you couldn’t contain your moans. You knew he could make you feel good from your time in his quarters but this was a whole new level.

“Fuck me!” You shouted

“Who is making you feel this good?” He asked as he varied his speed, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“You are.” You moaned and he gave a sharp thrust and you yelped.

“Say my name.” He said practically growling “Let everyone know.” He added.

“Kelly Severide is making me feel this good!” You said and he smirked.

“Good girl.” He said and that had you coming on his fingers. “Oh, I know now what turns you on.” He said, smirking again as you were coming down from your high. You watched him as he pulled his fingers out coated in your juices and brought them up his mouth and sucked on them until they were clean and you about came again right then and there.

“I need you Kels.” You said almost hoarsely and you knew by the time he was done with you that you were going to be hoarse.

“Your wish is my command.” He said as hiked your leg onto his hip and he guided his rock-hard cock that was leaking precum to your entrance. He pushed into you as the water gently washed over the two of you like a welcoming waterfall. As he pushed into you your eyes rolled into the back of your head and it fell to the back of the shower and you let out a pornographic moan. You knew he was big but it seemed like he had gotten bigger from the station to his apartment.

“Fuck me, Kelly!” You yelled out not being quiet in the least bit as he bottomed out. 

“That's right, Baby. Don’t be quiet. Let me hear that beautiful voice.” He said as he started to move once again stretching you and hitting you in all the right places. The bathroom and the shower were filled with steam both coming from the both of you and the heat of the shower.

“Feels so good!” You moaned out as he thrusted in and out of you.

“You’re making me feel good. Squeezing me so tight.” He moaned into your neck as he kissed, nipped, and licked you. 

“I’m not going to last.” You moaned loudly.

“Let it all out. Don’t hold back.” He said as he quickened his pace to an almost brutal pace but it was a welcomed pace. He grabbed your other leg and squeezed it and you got the hint and braced yourself on the slippery wall as he lifted you so he was holding all your weight. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your head into his neck. He continued to thrust into you and make you moan and shout and he didn’t care who heard his mission was to make you feel good. 

“FUCK! I’M GONNA COME!” You cried out as you came 

“I’m right behind you.” He said as you squeezed him making him cum painting your walls white for the second time that day. You buried your head into his neck and breathed heavily as you both came down from the high. He gently pulled out of you as he set you down cum was slowly dripping down but it was being washed away by the water. Both of you were worn out and neither of you said a word as you both washed each other until you were clean then he was turning the shower off and was toweling you off. 

“I love you.” You whispered not trusting your used voice to be any louder.

“I love you too.” He said as he held you for a few minutes and then the both of you were stepping out of the shower in towels. “Stay right there.” He said as he disappeared from the steamed-up bathroom. He soon returned in boxers and an extra pair and then one of his shirts and handed them to you. You slowly put the boxers on and then the shirt which came down to your knees. 

“How do I look?” You asked, smiling as he looked you up and down.

“Absolutely beautiful. You need to wear my clothing more often.” He said as he put a hand on your face and rubbed your cheek. “Come on, let's go cuddle on the couch and then I’ll throw in a pizza.” He said and you nodded. He took your hand and started to lead you out into the living room. He made you sit as he threw the pizza in and then he was coming to join you. You instantly cuddled into him and he pulled you into him and he turned on the TV. Neither of you said a word as you embraced each other and neither made a move to get up until he had to get the pizza out. He came back with a couple of beers which were already opened and handed you one as he sat the pizza on the coffee table in front of you. He resumed his position and so did you. As you ate and drank your thoughts kept coming back to Kelly and how good he made you feel more importantly jealous Kelly means jealousy sex that was wonderful.

Throughout the weekend there was plenty of sex going on and little clothing was worn. You also didn’t have to be quiet either there had been a few times Mrs. Wilder came by and asked if everything was ok and you had to tell you were as your cheeks burned bright red and Kelly was smirking. It was a really good thing that Chad had taken you home and came to the station. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be here with the man of your dreams. You would really have to thank him the next time you saw him. You loved Kelly and he loved you. You just wished you both had expressed your love for one another sooner especially when you knew the sex with him would be this good but now you had each other and weren’t going to let each other go anytime soon.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@gunsandgaurdians

[biblical-chronicles]

Fine wine

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where you push Noel away leaving him confused, only to ravish him as soon as he steps foot back in the house. [18+]

______________________________________

Noel glanced up from his notebook, his pen hovering midair as his eyes landed on you. You’d come by unexpectedly, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, watching the rehearsal space. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Didn’t know you were comin’ by, love.” he said, setting his pen down and making his way toward you.

“Yeah, thought I’d pop in.” you replied, though your tone was clipped, and your eyes darted around the room like you were avoiding his gaze.

Noel frowned slightly, his hand grazing your arm as he leaned in closer. “You alright? You seem a bit off.”

“Fine.” you said shortly, stepping away from his touch.

The shrug-off stung, but Noel played it off with a chuckle. “Must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, eh?”

You didn’t respond, just gave him a faint smile before turning your attention back to the band. Every time he tried to engage you—whether it was a hand on your back or a teasing comment—you shrugged him off with the same indifference. After an hour of your distant behavior, you announced you were heading home early.

Noel followed you to the door. “You sure you’re alright, love? You’ve barely said two words to me.”

“Yeah, Noel, I’m fine.” you said curtly, brushing past him and out the door.

As the door shut behind you, the room went silent for a beat before one of the guys piped up. “Oof. Someone’s in the dog house.”

The others snickered, and Noel sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You lot shut it. She’s fine.”

“She didn’t look fine,” one of them quipped. “She looked like she was gonna throttle you.”

“Or worse,” another added, smirking.

Noel rolled his eyes, but their words gnawed at him. By the time the session wrapped up, he was running through every interaction you’d had over the past week, trying to pinpoint what he’d done wrong.

When he got home, the house was quiet. His keys jingled as he unlocked the door, pushing it open tentatively like he was walking into enemy territory. “Love?” he called out, his voice uncertain.

You didn’t respond.

He stepped inside, toeing off his shoes, and was just setting his bag down when you appeared out of nowhere, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him into a kiss so fierce it stole his breath.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped when you finally pulled back. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Shut up.” you muttered, your hands working quickly to unbutton his shirt.

Noel blinked, stunned, as you practically tore the fabric off him, pushing it down his arms and letting it fall to the floor. “Wait a minute—weren’t you just givin’ me the cold shoulder?”

You barely paused, your lips brushing over the stubble on his jaw as your hands ran down his chest. “God, I couldn’t take it,” you confessed, your voice breathless, each word punctuated by a kiss. “Seeing you there… looking so good… I was scared I’d just take you right there in front of everyone.”

That earned a laugh from him, low and rich. "Don’t I look good every day?”

“You do,” you murmured, your lips pressing to the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, trailing down to his neck. “But it’s worse now. You’re ageing like fine wine, Noel. I can’t handle it. The grey in your hair…” You tugged lightly on the soft strands, earning a groan from him. “The way your features have sharpened…” Your fingers traced his jawline, your voice trembling with unrestrained need. “You’re just too much.”

Noel tried to respond, but you silenced him with another kiss, your hands gripping the fabric of his undershirt as you leaned into him. He fell back slightly against the wall, both of you slowly sliding down it before hitting the floor, his hands hovering awkwardly at your waist as if unsure what to do. His hesitancy only made you bolder, grinding down against him through his jeans, the rough fabric brushing against your sensitive skin.

“Christ, what has gotten into you.” he muttered, his voice cracking as he tilted his head back, giving you more room to nip at his neck.

Your lips curved into a smile against his skin, your hands sliding down to unfasten his jeans. You didn’t bother tugging them off yet, just enough to give you room to move against him. His breath hitched as you settled over him, the heat of your body pressing through the thin barriers of clothing.

“You’re killin’ me.” he said, his voice a mix of exasperation and awe.

“Good.” you replied, rolling your hips against his. Your pupils were blown wide, your chest rising and falling as you drank him in. The sight of him beneath you—his flushed face, his darkened eyes, his lips slightly parted—was intoxicating, and you were completely consumed by the need to be as close to him as possible.

“Noel,” you breathed, your hands framing his face, your thumbs brushing over the faint creases by his eyes. “You’re so… fucking beautiful.”

His cheeks flushed slightly at your words, and you couldn’t help but press your lips to his again, this time slower, deeper. The kiss was wet, your tongues sliding against each other in a rhythm that mirrored the slow grind of your hips.

Noel’s hands finally came to life, gripping your waist and pulling you even closer, as though he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you against him. He let out a low, shaky moan into your mouth, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

You broke the kiss just long enough to look at him, your breath mingling with his. “This is what you do to me,” you whispered, your voice ragged. “I can’t even think straight when I’m around you.”

Noel’s gaze was locked onto yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his lips parted as though he wanted to respond but couldn’t find the words. You leaned down again, brushing your lips over his jawline and down to his neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“You’re perfect,” you murmured between kisses, your hands sliding over his shoulders and chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Your hips rolled against his again, and Noel let out a moan, his hands gripping your thighs like they were the only thing keeping him grounded. He bit his lip, his head tilting back as his eyes fluttered shut, clearly trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape.

“Don’t do that,” you said, your voice soft but commanding as you cupped his jaw, pulling his face back to yours. “I want to hear you.”

Noel’s eyes snapped open, wide and dark with desire. He hesitated for only a moment before exhaling shakily, letting out the low, desperate sound he’d been holding back.

“Good boy.” you murmured instinctively, the words tumbling from your lips before you even realized what you were saying.

Noel’s hips bucked against you, the movement sending a jolt of pleasure through your body as the friction between you grew impossibly intense. His cheeks flushed deeper, and his grip on your hips tightened, his breathing growing heavier.

“Oh,” you said, your lips curving into a wicked smile as you leaned down to kiss him again, your tongue teasing his. “I see. That’s what you like, yeah?”

Noel groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding up your sides, dragging your dress with them as if he couldn’t wait to feel more of you. “Please.” he muttered, his voice rough and thick with need, though the way he looked at you betrayed just how much your words had gotten to him.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your eyes flicking down between you where the fabric of his jeans and boxers still stubbornly separated you from what you needed. Your hands moved quickly, unfastening his belt and jeans fully, tugging them down along with his boxers in one swift, desperate motion.

Noel let out a hiss as the cool air hit him, but the sound quickly morphed into a groan as your hand wrapped around him, stroking him firmly. “Jesus, love.” he breathed, his head falling back against the wall.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice trembling as you took the sight of him in. “So fucking perfect.” You positioned yourself, pushing your dress aside and guiding him to you, sinking down onto him slowly.

Noel just let out a low moan, his hands flying to your hips to steady you as you took him all the way in. You bit your lip, your head falling forward against his shoulder as the sensation overwhelmed you, but you didn’t stop moving, rocking your hips against him in slow, deliberate rolls.

“Good boy,” you whispered against his ear again, your lips brushing the shell of it as you spoke. “Taking it so well, yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Noel’s only response was a choked sound, his fingers digging into your hips as his body reacted instinctively to your words, meeting each of your movements with a sharp thrust of his own.

“Say it,” you urged, pulling back to look at him, your hands framing his face. His pupils were blown wide, his lips swollen and wet from your kisses, the sight made your pulse quicken. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“So fucking good,” Noel groaned, his voice wrecked as his eyes locked onto yours. “God, you feel unreal.”

You leaned down to kiss him again, open-mouthed and messy, tongues tangling as your hips moved faster, chasing the heat building between you. Every sound he made-the way he gasped your name, the broken groans that spilled from his lips when you praised him-only spurred you on, pushing you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” you murmured against his lips, your voice breathless but still firm. “Just like that, love. You’re doing so good.”

Noel’s response was a mix of a moan and a curse, his hands sliding up your back beneath your dress as if he needed to touch more of you, to feel every inch of you against him.

You threw your head back, your hands gripping his shoulders as you lost yourself in the rhythm, the sensation of him filling you completely, the way he clung to you. “Fuck, Noel.” you gasped, your voice breaking on his name as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you.

You didn’t hold back, your rhythm growing erratic as the pressure in your core became almost unbearable. Noel matched your energy, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust up into you with more urgency. His head fell back against the wall, and he let out a low, desperate moan.

Hearing him unravel beneath you sent you over the edge, a cry tearing from your throat as the waves of pleasure crashed over you. Noel followed seconds later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, a string of curses and your name spilling from his lips.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both catching your breath as the tension between you dissipated.

“Bloody hell,” Noel finally muttered, his chest heaving as he looked up at you with a dazed expression. “That was new.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still sitting astride him. “Don’t act like you didn’t love every second of it.”

“Oh, I loved it, alright,” he said, his grin lazy and satisfied. “Just got me in a right state now.”

You laughed harder, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “Well, maybe next time you’ll stop tormenting me in public. You’re lucky I didn’t drag you into the studio toilets earlier.”

Noel chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. “You’ve got a filthy mind, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one.” you shot back, brushing your fingers through his slightly damp hair, the hint of gray catching the light.

He smirked, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You’re a menace.”

You eased yourself off him, wincing slightly as you adjusted your dress and smoothed down the fabric. Noel fumbled for his jeans, grinning like an idiot as he struggled to put himself back together.

Just as he finished fastening his belt, you caught his face in your hands, making him pause. “But seriously, Noel,” you said, your voice soft but earnest. “You’re the most beautiful person on this earth, inside and out. Always have been.”

His teasing grin faltered, replaced by something more sincere. “Oh, come o.” he murmured, his eyes searching yours like he didn’t quite believe you.

“I mean it,” you insisted, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “The way you look at me, the way you care for everyone around you—it’s everything. I adore you.”

For once, Noel was speechless, his cheeks turning faintly pink. After a beat, he gave you a lopsided smile and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re not so bad yourself, love.” he said softly.

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@shes-thunderstormssss delivered a brilliant request yet again, thank you so much love, and hope you like it x

Noel ages better than fine wine, it must be studied

tomorrow I'll give you all a break from the smut and then we are back with some fun Liam requests, love all ya lot !!

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 8

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep9 | Ep10 | Ep11 | Ep12)

Oof. This took me way longer than planned. Partly, because I had some uni assignments to work on and partly, because I went home the weekend after episode 8 dropped and ended up binging the entirety of Star in My Mind with my mother. On her request, btw. Who am I to say no to my mother when she wants to watch a JoongDunk show for the 3rd time together. I actually meant to upload it a day or two ago, but then I kept realizing and noticing and remembering details that I really wanted to add, some of which were also language related, so I then needed to check with my Thai language correspondents which also took some time as I waited for their replies.

But here it finally is! I know in my last meta I said it was my longest one yet, but this one's even longer, actually. Watch my metas hit 20k words by the end of the series lmao. Anyway, enjoy. And apologies in advance if my ep9 meta is also late, since I had to finish this one first. I promise I'll try my best to get it done before ep10 <3

Pronoun situation: As usual, just assume Fadel and Style use the rude pronouns guu/mueng with each other unless I specify otherwise.

To recap: So Fadel and Bison found out. Fadel and Bison are mad. Fadel and Bison want to kill Kant and Style. Style was drugged, kidnapped, found himself tied up at a pool staring down the barrel of his own boyfriend's gun, survived, and then drove off into the sunset, uh, I mean went on a little road trip in search of his best friend and his boyfriend's brother/best friend's boyfriend. As bleak as things may seem with Style being back at square one with the added challenge that Fadel now actively wants to kill him, this, at the same time, may be one of the best things that has ever happened to Style, because finally everything is out in the open. Style no longer has any secrets to keep (except for the deal with the car) and he can finally be brutally honest in everything he says and everything he does.

No. 1: Midnight Mote– Oh Wait Wrong Show

We meet them as they're pulling into the parking lot of a motel. Since it seems to be pretty late at night, I think it's fairly safe to assume that they were driving all day, likely non-stop. The first thing out of Style's mouth is a horny line. "Why are we at a motel? Did you get turned on while we were on the way or what?" And just from that line alone we can actually see how far he's come since the beginning of the series and how far he's come in his feelings for Fadel too. Remember my first few metas about the first few episodes of the show and how I would go into whether Style really meant his flirty comment or not? I don't think in this moment Style was actually trying to seduce Fadel (we know how he acts when he does want to seduce him and we'll even get to see an example of it in a bit when they're in the room), but it's still very different from his flirty/horny comments in the first couple of episodes in the series where he also wasn't really genuinely trying to seduce Fadel. Back then, a lot of his comments were very loud in a performative kind of way, as if he was saying them for an audience, not because he actually meant what he said. This one here? There is absolutely none of that loud, performative energy to be found. No, Style makes this comment very casually, almost matter-of-factly even as if he's asking something like So, what do you want for dinner tonight?

It's no longer a performance to him. In fact, he's quite serious about it and while it was an offhanded rhetorical question, it still almost sounds like an honest question. The flirting is no longer a joke to Style the way it was in the first three episodes of the series. He genuinely wants to know. But Fadel shuts him down and orders him to get out of the car. Style is a bit annoyed at the dismissal, but by now he's also used to it. After all, he did spend four episodes doing nothing but hitting one wall after the other. And just like back then, he won't let Fadel shake him off that easily. So Style complains: "I’m just curious so I know what to expect. It’s not like I can just turn the switch on, you know?" Again, this is not a performance. In fact, this time around, he's even more serious than compared his comment before. He may not be planning on actively seducing Fadel right here right now in the car, but who is Style to say no if the opportunity to sleep with Fadel arises? For Style, sleeping with Fadel is absolutely on the table if Fadel makes the offer. And so Style lets him know. "I’m just curious so I know what to expect." Will you be sleeping with me? Are you planning on sleeping with me?

Fadel takes a moment to reply and there is an interesting expression on Style's face as he waits for an answer:

Style is watching him carefully, really observing Fadel's face. He's done this before when he's hit Fadel with a flirty or suggestive line, but where before his expression would always be one of excitement or amusement or curiosity or sometimes even smugness, this time it's completely serious. It's almost as if Style is searching for something. But searching for what?

As I mentioned above, I don't think Style is actively trying to seduce Fadel here. I think he's more testing the waters. Because while yes, Fadel has slept with him before and yes, Fadel is in love with him and Style knows it (he will later confirm it for himself at the end of the episode), the problem is that Fadel is also very pissed at him right now and is actively planning to kill him, has actively tried to kill him only hours ago, actually. If that doesn't send confusing signals, then I don't even know anymore. And so Style needs to figure out where exactly he stands with Fadel right now – that's what Style is searching for when he's staring at Fadel. He's trying to see how far Fadel has pushed him away now that the lies have come to light, is trying to find out how close Fadel will let him come now that Fadel has calmed down a bit from his tantrum at the pool. Will Fadel let Style get close enough again to maybe even be willing to sleep with him like before? Is their relationship maybe not in ruins yet? Has Fadel's anger faded enough? Does Style still have a chance with him? Is there a chance they can go back to the happiness they shared before all hell broke loose? This matters to Style and it matters a lot. And so he tries to look for the answers in Fadel's face as he waits for Fadel's reply. And after a moment, Fadel lifts his gun and hits him with:

I didn't take you here to sleep with you. กูไม่ได้พามึงมาเอาเนาะ [guu mâi dâai paa mueng maa ao nó] I - not - take - you - come - sleep with - [particle] Official subs: I’m not sleeping with you.

Sex is not the purpose for which Fadel made Style drive to a motel of all places. Fadel informs Style that this is where he's meeting Bison and repeats his order for Style to get out of the car. Style actually stares at Fadel for a second before he reacts:

This is the second right before Style turns his head and says he'll wait. And again I think this is him taking in Fadel's response and his brain working out where exactly Fadel has put him now. That's important info for Style to know. Style needs to understand where exactly he stands, because he needs to find out how much distance precisely it is that he has to overcome so that he can figure out a way to overcome that distance. Because Style doesn't want there to be any distance between the two of them at all. But Fadel clearly won't let Style get anywhere close right now. So Style turns his head and announces that he'll be waiting in the car. He's not in the mood to follow along, Fadel is a big boy and can go and get his brother by himself. Fadel, however, isn't in the mood to play either. He points his gun at Style's head again and tells him no. Style will not be waiting in the car. Style looks severely unimpressed.

Fadel orders Style to follow him, and in fact, not just to follow Fadel but walk in front of him, actually, thank you very much. And yes, Fadel does literally say "follow me", not "come along":

ตามกูมา [dtaam - guu - maa] follow - me - come Official subs: You come with me.

As a translation student I think it's a shame the translator didn't stick to a literal translation here, because I think it's pretty funny how Fadel is all "follow me" at first until he remembers that "following" implies walking behind someone and then changes his mind and tells Style to take the lead instead so that Fadel can actually keep an eye on him and threaten him with his gun if need may be. With Fadel ordering Style to walk behind him at first, I think it highlights his unspoken threat of "Walk in front of me (where I can see you)" even more and it's a shame the translator removed that. But despite the threat, Style just continues to be unimpressed. In fact, Fadel is really starting to get on Style's nerves now. And so he rolls his eyes and sighs the biggest sigh ever to make sure Fadel really can't miss how Style feels about this, how he feels about getting out of that car, how he feels about Fadel bossing him around and threatening him and waving a gun in his face.

Style is so fucking done with Fadel's stupid fucking act. And Style knows it's an act, he knows Fadel won't be killing him. At least not any time soon. And especially not right here in the parking lot of this motel. Fadel steps out of the car and Style watches him, then shakes his head, annoyed, before he follows Fadel's lead and gets out of the car as well.

They make their way towards the aunty and Fadel actually does fall behind Style as they walk. Once they reach the aunty, Fadel starts questioning her about Bison. She recognizes Bison on the photo, but hasn't seen him in a while. Aunty is worried and asks if he ran away from home. Style immediately jumps in and comes up with a reasonable story.

@secriden has an interesting thought about this:

[T]he story Style comes up with about why they're looking for a missing person on their own like this (instead of, y'know, going to the police like upright, non-hitman citizens would've) was really good to explain their urgency/frustration and preempt any suspicion so that the auntie is unlikely to report them to the cops. Style is actively, genuinely helping Fadel out and using his excellent skills at playing Asian aunties to full effect for him. Ugh, just look at how earnest and worried Style's expression is!? He totally disarms the auntie while I bet she would've been a lot more suspicious and distrustful if grumpy face on the left had come asking questions alone.

I think this is certainly an aspect of it, but I'm not sure how much of it is Style consciously doing this in order to help Fadel out and to keep the aunty from getting too suspicious and how much of it is Style acting on instinct. Not to mention, part of this is definitely also Style just being a chatty cat, ready to strike up a conversation with anyone who'll listen to him talk. Especially when it involves aunties that he can wrap around his finger with his charm. That is Style's personality after all.

I also love how Style drops the "boyfriend" without a second thought. Because obviously they are still boyfriends. Yes, Fadel drugged him and kidnapped him and pulled a gun on him and nearly killed him but never once did he utter the words "I'm breaking up with you" or "This relationship is over". So of course this relationship is very much still on. Why wouldn't it be?

Though let me just say, I don't think Style necessarily called Fadel his boyfriend deliberately in this moment in the sense of that he is actively trying to send some kind of underlying message to Fadel. I mean, in a way yes, but this boyfriend mention is very casual (as if it's the most self-evident thing in the world) and so I don't think his main goal here is to send some kind of deliberate pointed message along the lines of Do you hear that Fadel, I truly love you and I still consider you my boyfriend to Fadel, because if that were the case, he would have highlighted the word "boyfriend" more. Style will be calling Fadel his boyfriend very deliberately and pointedly later in the episode after a certain confrontation. But for now, this underlying message is more of a side thought.

Aunty asks if the two of them want a room. Style say yes. Fadel says no. Style insists. He's tired and there's no point in continuing their search for Bison right now. Fadel is stubborn. They have to keep going. Style starts getting overdramatic and flaunts his waist. Aunty supports Style. She refers to Style as Fadel's boyfriend. Style throws Fadel a pleased, warm look and raises his eyebrows at him. See? She's on my side. I'm winning this. Fadel says Style isn't his boyfriend. We don't even get to see Style's reaction to that claim, so I guess it couldn't have hit him too hard. Maybe he was even half expecting this sort of reaction with the way Fadel has been pulling back from him and has been rebuilding his walls.

Aunty tells them she'll be putting them in a special room and Fadel doesn't argue. Aunty presents them with lube and a condom. Style throws Fadel an amused and a little smug look.

No. 2: Of Mechanics and Race Car Beds

Fadel is having one of the worst nights of his life. That special room is very much not to his liking. Style, though, loves it. Obviously. Although, I think he also partly says it to be extra nice to the aunty to make up for Fadel being such a grumpy cat and partly as a way to get under Fadel's skin. The "Fast. Hard. Furious." part especially is a direct message to Fadel. Style is being a little shit again in order to get through to Fadel, but what's different now compared to the early episodes is that there is so now much more fondness that comes with it. When he smiles at Fadel afterwards, there is amusement in his expression, but moreover there is so much warmth and affection as well. There's even an air of playful innocence about it like Don't you agree, baby? 😇

The aunty leaves and Style comments on how he's never had sex in a car before (and to those who are calling bullshit on that statement, let me just point out: he said he never had sex in a car, he didn't say anything about never having sex with a car. I mean, we all saw how he touched Kant's car back in episode 1 🤭🤭🤭). Style takes off his shirt, throws it at Fadel, leans onto the windshield of the car and says some very flirty and suggestive things. Fadel finally gets up from his spot in the very last corner of the room, walks up to Style, grabs his hand and leads it down his own body. Then Fadel leans in for a kiss, only to handcuff Style to the bed.

This whole scene is very reminiscent of the kitchen scene at the start of episode 4. In both scenes Style says flirty and suggestive shit with the actual goal of getting into Fadel's pants, in both scenes Style makes a comment about how it's like a sex fantasy (Note: in episode 4 the subs say "wild", but since he is literally saying an English loanword I think you can hear it for yourself and don't need me to spell it out for you in Thai like I usually do), in both scenes Fadel is trying to push Style away, in both scenes Style is also trying to annoy Fadel in some way. And yet both of these scenes go very differently.

In my ep4 meta I discussed why Style genuinely meant all the flirting in the scene and how he was genuinely trying to get into Fadel's pants, but there is one aspect I actually didn't really mention, partly because I was focusing on other things and partly because back then I didn't yet have the comparison of how Style's flirting would be like once they were in an actual relationship and real romantic feelings were involved. I've mentioned before how when Style is saying suggestive things without actually meaning them in the earlier episodes his voice will be louder and his tone much more performative while when he is sincere in his sexual flirting his voice will go more quiet. When Style goes into his whole "I know a guy like you just needs a little nudge" spiel in episode 4 his voice is a lot more quiet than it usually is compared to the insincere flirting which is why (amongst other reasons I discuss in my ep4 meta) I think he definitely meant it, but (and this following part I didn't mention back then) there is something about his tone of voice and also the way he grabs Fadel's crotch in such a rough, unsexy way that makes me think he was also trying to piss Fadel off a bit. It's not just flirting, but it's a challenge too. Because Fadel keeps claiming he didn't miss Style when Style failed to show up at Fadel's usual spots, keeps claiming that Style is a only a bother to him. And so I think, as much as Style was genuinely up for sleeping with Fadel for a second time (the same way something else was, ahem, up that morning when Style awoke from his blissful dream), I think he was also using the chance to try and get under Fadel's skin again, trying to break down Fadel's walls even more, trying to make him admit that he was thinking about Style and that he had grown to like him.

Now in episode 8 Style doesn't need Fadel to admit his feelings anymore. Fadel is his boyfriend already, they've slept together on multiple occasions, and have also gotten to know each other on a deeper emotional level. Yes, Fadel has put his walls back up now that the truth is out, but now Style also knows what lies behind those walls. And so in this scene in the motel room he actively annoys Fadel on purpose, first of all by being flirty in the first place (Style knows exactly that Fadel isn't here to sleep with him since Fadel explicitly told him so when they arrived) and second of all by throwing his shirt at Fadel, which I think is an attempt at kind of connecting to/making contact with Fadel who retreated all the way into the last corner of the room and an attempt at getting some kind of reaction/engagement out of him. And what I've also seen someone note somewhere in the tags is how Style's shirt says "control". Style rids himself of "control" and throws it at Fadel. And we see that in the way he acts.

In the kitchen, even if he let Fadel take the lead once Fadel grabbed his waist and put him onto the table, in the beginning it was still Style who initiated everything, it was Style who moved closer to Fadel and who started touching him. Now in the motel, Style lets Fadel fully be in control from the start. Instead of getting closer to Fadel, Style now stays put exactly where he is. Instead of touching Fadel suggestively as Style did in the kitchen and is generally keen on doing whenever he genuinely wants to get into Fadel's pants he leans on onto the windshield of the car and puts himself on display completely, flaunts himself, offers himself to Fadel in a way that says here I am, take me any time. Style stays put, doesn't touch Fadel, and instead waits as he leaves the choice to engage entirely up to Fadel. Fadel can have him whenever he's ready. Style won't force Fadel before he is ready but he will make sure that Fadel knows loud and clear that Style's offer is here.

Style's tone is also fully grounded and serious now as well as very calm. It's the complete opposite of his loud, showy, performative behavior from the first three episodes when he was trying to "seduce" Fadel and was spewing insincere words. And when he smiles at Fadel, he's kinda amused but there is also so much warmth behind in his expression:

Fadel finally gets up and engages with Style and it's interesting, because back during episode 4 in the kitchen I already thought Style was serious about hooking up with Fadel and it's just so cool to see just how much more serious Style actually gets now that strong romantic feelings are involved. If you watch the kitchen scene from episode 4 and the motel scene from episode 8 back to back you can absolutely tell in which of these scenes Style is full on in love. And what else is interesting is that even though in the kitchen scene from episode 4 Style 10000% means every single thing he says and genuinely wants to hook up with Fadel right then and there, there is still some sort of performative air to his lines when he says "Oh, we’re doing it in the kitchen?" and "Wild. I like it". In episode 4, Style had just found out from the market aunty that his strategy of staying away did have an effect on Fadel, but when Style calls him out on it, Fadel keeps rejecting him and keeps telling him to piss off. And while Style's gut feeling tells him that Fadel does feel something for him, Style doesn't actually know. Because Fadel keeps saying otherwise and keeps pushing him away. But in the kitchen Style genuinely wants something from Fadel and I think when Style makes his comments while Fadel is putting him on the table his words aren't entirely grounded not because he's being insincere, but because he's trying to play it cool. I think he's trying to hide how desperate he is for Fadel to reciprocate his blossoming feelings.

Now in episode 8, though? Style is no longer desperate for it. Sure, Fadel is currently pushing him away again all the time, but it's okay. Because unlike in episode 4, Style now knows for a fact that they're in love. That Fadel is in love with him, too. Fadel is mad at him right now, but that will pass. So when Fadel comes over to (seemingly) go along with Style's seduction, Style doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to anymore. He doesn't have anything to prove anymore. He is confident about their mutual feelings and their relationship now.

Something that both the ep4 kitchen scene and the ep8 motel room scene, and actually also the ep3 storage room scene share is how Style lets Fadel take the lead. Style isn't forcing himself onto Fadel, he sits back and lets Fadel do whatever he wants to do to him.

Fadel grabs Style's hand and leads it down his chest. Style follows with curiosity, looking pleased, clearly happy that Fadel is actually engaging instead of pushing him away and definitely also excited about the prospect of getting some. Fadel leans in for a kiss and Style follows and—

Before Style knows it, Fadel has handcuffed him to the bed. Kissing is off the table, it seems. In episode 4, Style was extremely hurt by Fadel's rejection. Now in episode 8, he's still pretty miffed about it, but he is in no way as hurt as he was that time in the kitchen. Because by now Fadel has done this to him enough times that he's used to it. And also, as I mentioned before, their relationship is on a very different level now. Fadel handcuffs Style and Style is disappointed, but not surprised. Mostly he is just kinda annoyed that Fadel is still keeping up this stupid act. "What the hell? I ain’t running away, you know?"

In episode 4, Style ran off, hurt and humiliated and very enraged. In episode 8, Style stays put. Not that he could have gotten very far even if he had wanted to run off, but Style genuinely doesn't want to. In episode 4, Style spent quite a long time being angry at Fadel for dumping him like that. In episode 8, Style is annoyed for like a second upon realizing what Fadel's plan had been all along, but then he immediately gets over it and meets Fadel with love and warmth instead. Fadel says "I don’t trust you" and Style does talk back, but it's more of an affectionate teasing than an attempt at instigating an actual argument. Style almost smiles at Fadel after he says "And if I need to take a piss?" Fadel lets him know that he will be uncuffing him for that if need may be and Style lowers his gaze. He sees the complimentary gifts and playfully starts teasing Fadel about using them. And unlike earlier, I think this time with that kind, warm smile Style is throwing Fadel, Style's comments about chains and whips and using the complimentary gifts weren't actually meant as genuine seduction. No, I think that was Style's way of saying Hey, I'm not upset with you for chaining me to the bed, I'm not holding that against you. But would you please just drop the act and stop pushing me away all the time?

But Fadel grabs his chin and tells no, he will not be dropping the act: "Didn’t you say you’re tired? I bet it’s because you run your mouth too much. Shut up and go to sleep." Style smiles at Fadel again towards the end of Fadel's new rejection, but that smile falls as soon as Fadel walks away.

And I don't think it's because Style is frustrated that he won't be getting laid that evening after all. I think Style is genuinely disappointed that Fadel continues to push him away like that, that Fadel keeps on being stubborn and refusing to communicate and engage with Style no matter how clear Style makes it that he's not holding a grudge about anything that happened that day, from the drugging to the kidnapping to the attempted murder to the blue-balling. And in addition I think Style is also a little hurt that Fadel won't just trust him at least a little bit and hurt that Fadel keeps acting so distant and stand-offish. Style just wants his boyfriend back.

No. 3: Deliver A Message

Now this scene is interesting because it left some people confused from what I've seen. Is Style being serious with his crying or not? Is he playing Fadel? Especially with the upbeat music that was put in the background at the beginning of the scene. There's another reason why I think this particular scene is confusing (and which was the reason why it confused me in the beginning as well), but that's a topic for a whole separate post. (Side note: While I was still working on this meta, I actually ended up getting an anon about this crying scene and sooo this "separate post" might actually follow at some point, even if I hadn't been planning on actually writing it when I was typing the previous sentence. Stay tuned.) I think multiple readings of this scene can co-exist, but for now I just wanna share what I personally think is happening in this scene.

First and foremost let me just say that I don't think Style is necessarily playing Fadel. If anything, he may be playing the drama up a bit like he tends to do, because that's simply just his personality. He has a tendency to be a bit more dramatic then necessary. But even if he is playing it up, I think it absolutely comes from a genuine place. After all, Style is only human and he has had quite an eventful day. Let's recap...

The day started with Style showing up at the hospital, already antsy because he couldn't reach Kant which was worrisome especially in the context of Fadel's threatening warning of "the two of us have business to finish with the two of you" from the night before. So Style shows up at the hospital, only to find out that his best friend was kidnapped by an actual assassin who is very capable of murdering Kant (Style doesn't know Bison as well as he knows Fadel, so Style has no way to tell whether Bison loves Kant enough to spare Kant's life the way Style can tell with Fadel). And immediately after that he gets ambushed and drugged, which absolutely is a traumatizing thing to go through and certainly must have had some effect on Style, if just subconsciously. Then, he finds himself tied up naked at a pool, which again, would generally be a traumatizing situation to find yourself in, especially when someone you know is very capable of taking other people's lives comes and continuously waves a gun into your face. And yes, by now Style knows Fadel pretty well and so he didn't feel too threatened, but Fadel was also really angry and Fadel also did punch Style in the gut that one time when Style was overly confident that Fadel liked him enough not to harm him. And I think, even if on a surface level Style didn't feel too threatened by Fadel (because Style has learned to read him) on a subconscious level the knowledge that Fadel certainly could and would shoot at any moment if he got too angry is still there. And right at the end of that scene there was a point where Style was genuinely scared for his life. Again, that's pretty traumatizing. And then he spent all day in a tight space with someone who is angry at him and keeps pointing a gun on him. And then he got chained again. And got pushed away by his boyfriend over and over again. Style is only human. And it makes complete sense for all the emotions that he repressed while he was playing it cool in order to get through these traumatizing events to come bubbling up to a surface level now at night where he finally gets to rest.

Lying there, in bed, at night, about to fall asleep, his brain is finally not busy with keeping him alive anymore. His brain finally has the time and the opportunity to process everything that has happened in the last 24ish hours. And as he is lying there in bed his brain is probably playing back everything that has happened and is coming up with a lot of "what if" scenarios. What if Fadel had actually killed him at the pool? What if Fadel will actually kill him in the future just like he actually did punch him in the storage room when Style was confident that he wouldn't? Style's death would come with consequences. We've already heard and seen a lot about Style's loving relationship with his dad and it's no wonder Style thinks of him now. Because Style's death would hurt his dad a lot. Style's dad already lost the mother of his son, now he might lose his only son too? The only family member left in his immediate family? If Style does get murdered, he doesn't wanna die without saying goodbye to his dad. And the only person who would be able to deliver that goodbye message is his own murderer.

I don't think Style meant to cry in the beginning. I do think he was fairly serious in the beginning, but I don't think he was planning on crying about it. It's only when he remembers his mother that it triggers the need to cry, only when he suddenly arrives at his own grief and his own trauma about his mother's death that the tears start flowing. And in my opinion those are real, genuine tears. We've seen Style fake-cry before, we know what his performative crying looks like. Style is a terrible fake-crier and we saw this in episode 4 when he showed up at the Rise Up group meeting for the first time and "cried" about his dog. The crying in the motel bed? Is very far from that.

And it's not just us, the viewers, who know what Style's fake crying looks like. Fadel was at that support group meeting too. Fadel also knows how Style fake-cries. And so when Style starts to cry, Fadel can tell the difference. And it has an effect on him. Except he doesn't really know how to deal with this situation, because Style crying hadn't been part of his plans of kidnapping and killing Style, hadn't been part of his plans to push Style as far away again as possible. And so he awkwardly asks "Are you crying?" (I think a different way to phrase this question would also be "You're crying?") And Style replies in honesty: "Duh. I know I talk all big, but even I am afraid of death."

In the last 24ish hours Style got to feel genuine fear for his life and Style doesn't want to die. He is not suicidal. And yes, he is cocky and confident, sometimes overly so and yes, despite all the threats to his life Style simply went about his day as if it's nothing, but as I said, Style still went through a few traumatizing situations in a very short period of time. Of course, it all had an affect on him. Of course part of him would be afraid. Style is human after all. He is human and he is feeling emotions. And he would really need some comfort right now.

Except all he gets is a "stop being dramatic" and an "I don't wanna listen". So Style turns away from Fadel and cries alone in the little corner of privacy he can get in the shared bed that he is currently chained to and can't leave. Style can neither see nor hear nor feel the hand Fadel is reaching out to him, is unaware of just how much Fadel is longing to give him that comfort Style so desperately needs before Fadel's mind wins over his heart and makes him pull back again.

No. 4: Road Trip Time

It's the next day, Style has rested and from what we can see Fadel has also stopped waving a gun into Style's face almost 24/7. Style is clearly having a blast driving through the country. However, the car is tried now and refuses to continue on. Turns out the radiator is broken. Fadel mocks Style for being a bad mechanic and instead of taking offense, Style comes back with sass and a Harry Potter reference and mimics shooting Fadel. Remember the "Style + guns" counter from last episode's meta? I know, I know, here in this case it's supposed to be a wand and not a gun, but especially with the sound effect the whole thing is quite reminiscent of a gun shot, so I'm counting it. Our "Style + guns" counter is now at 4.

There is no phone signal, so they have no way of calling for help. Style tells Fadel off for insisting on taking a short cut and Fadel brings up the police. Style responds: "What are you worrying about? I told you I wouldn’t run. What do I have to do for you to trust me?" Fun fact, his literal wording when he says "What are you worrying about" is actually "What are you afraid of?" or "What are you scared of?":

มึงกลัวอะไรอ่ะ [mueng - gluua - àrai - àh] you - fear, be scared of - what - [particle]

What I love about this is that Style doesn't let Fadel's verbal stabs dampen his good mood too much. He doesn't respond in anger and he's not really annoyed. In fact, when he tells Fadel that he's not running away, he even sounds a bit amused. And when he asks "What do I have to do for you to trust me?", it's not a verbal stab back at Fadel but it's a genuine question. Style honestly wants to know. Fadel tells him "I can no longer trust a single word that comes out of your mouth."

Style smiles and shakes his head in a mix of amusement (because of course Fadel would say that) and exasperation (because Style is getting quite tired of being back at square one and having to go through all the steps again). Style doesn't fight Fadel, though, and instead asks him what he wants to do. However, there is a bit of a bite to his voice, especially in the last sentence when he asks Fadel what he plans to do if now, wait for a car to pass by or what? He patiently waits for Fadel's reply. When Fadel tells Style to push the car, Style is obviously not very into that idea but instead of resisting by starting a fight he starts getting over-dramatic about potentially passing out, about the hot weather, about being hungry and so on. Look how poor I am, have some mercy on me. Fadel is unimpressed. He tells Style to stop whining and reminds him that he currently has just one good hand. Style yields, but not without sassing Fadel first: "I’ll just die of exhaustion before I ever meet your bullet." Fadel brushes past him to get into the driver's seat (I'm assuming to control the wheels of the car while Style is pushing?) and Style walks behind the car and starts pushing while they continue to bicker.

We don't know how long Style was pushing the car for, but it must have been a while because when Style asks for a break, the road is no longer made of asphalt like it was when the car broke down. Fadel doesn't talk back when Style wants to take a break, instead he wordlessly steps out of the car and lets him have it. On the way to the back of the car, Fadel pulls a paper bag and a water bottle out of his backpack and goes to lean against the trunk of the car while taking a sip. Style eyes the water bottle and Fadel notices. After a moment of hesitation, Fadel somewhat begrudgingly holds the water out to Style. Style doesn't immediately take it, but instead throws Fadel a look, checking if Fadel really is letting him have some water. Style only grabs the bottle after Fadel explicitly tells him to take it. Style obeys and immediately starts teasing Fadel: "Thought you’d let me die of thirst. Either a hitman like you still have his humanity, or you’re in love with me." Despite talking big about killing Style and shoving a gun into his face on multiple occasions, Fadel still cares about Style and his well-being and Style knows it. After the teasing words are out of Style's mouth, he attentively observes Fadel's reaction because he also knows Fadel would never admit to this out loud:

While Style is talking, Fadel turns around to grab some food out of the paper bag. When he turns back he makes a face at Style's words, then wordlessly leans back against the trunk again and takes a bite, ignoring Style completely. Style eyes the snack in Fadel's hands. Then he says: "You’re well prepared, huh? To think you packed snacks and drinks."

I personally think that Style wasn't just thirsty, but also hungry. He did do some physical work under the heat of the sun, after all. I think his words were an implicit prompt for Fadel to not just share his water, but also his food. But Fadel doesn't share, he just responds with "I am always well prepared. I have plans for everything". It's kinda funny he's saying this because it's not like Style was even given the chance to prepare for a trip in the first place. It's not like Style showed up at the hospital with a bag full of travel essentials in anticipation of getting kidnapped and going on an impromptu road trip.

Fadel continues with a stab at Style: "If it wasn’t for you and your friend, my brother and I would have had our long-awaited break already." Style almost rolls his eyes. He's so over this. What happened, happened and there's no way to change the past. All you can do is go forward from there. "Let it go. Shouldn’t you be looking forward to the future? Focus on the future. Let go of your grudge. What good would a grudge do—" Style doesn't get further than that because suddenly there is a bun in his mouth. And just in case the message isn't clear enough, Fadel also explicitly tells him to shut up. Style complains about Fadel's methods. "Couldn’t you have been more gentle?" This is actually funnier to me in Thai:

If you want to feed me, you can feed me gently. No need to be so forceful. มึงอยากป้อนมึงป้อนเบาๆ ได้ไม่ต้องแรงเลย [mueng - yàak - bpôn - mueng - bpôn - bao bao - dâai - mâi - dtông - raeng - loiie] you - want - feed - you - feed - gently - can - not - need - harsh - [particle]

The bun did not manage to shut Style up, on the contrary. Style just keeps talking. "I’m getting paranoid, though. We broke down in the middle of the woods. This is just like the beginning of a horror film. A murderer is gonna come after us in a minute." Fadel gently reminds him of his request to shut up: "The first to get murdered would be a yapper like you." Again, I wanna share my own translations of this bickering (Fadel's line specifically), because it amuses me how Fadel is more or less continuing Style's sentence but turns it against him:

S: A murderer will come and kill us any second now. อีกแป๊บนึงก็จะมีฆาตกรมาฆ่าพวกเรา [ìik bpáep nueng - gôh - jà mii - kâat-dtà-gon - maa - kâa - pûuak rao] in a moment - [sentence link] - will be - murderer - come - kill - us F: And will kill a yapper like you first. แล้วก็จะฆ่าคนพูดมากอย่างมึงเป็นคนแรก [láew gôh - jà - kâa - kon pûut mâak - yàang - mueng - bpen kon râek] and - will - kill - person who talks a lot - like - you - as the first person

I think by now everyone's made fun of Style for being afraid of a murderer when there is an actual murderer right by his side, but the thing is, it is quite interesting how fear is becoming a theme for Style this episode, something that @secriden goes into in this post. Something else she also points out is how Style not only worries about getting murdered himself, but also about Fadel getting murdered too:

[I]t's interesting how Style talks about being afraid of dying generally and specifically how harm could come to them from an external source. How the way his fear is orientated puts Fadel on the inside ("a murderer is gonna come after us"), on Style's side and someone Style wants to keep safe. And when Fadel makes the kind of snide joke about letting the hypothetical cannibals kill and cook Style, Style's solution still involves staying by Fadel's side. At no point does he ever stop referring to Fadel and him as a single unit, even after Fadel very explicitly frames Style as the only victim.

In this moment though, Style isn't actually afraid of a hypothetical murderer suddenly jumping out of the woods to kill them both. So when Fadel responds with one of his usual comments that show how much he "dislikes" Style, Style lets it go and instead continues a different fight: he doesn't wanna keep pushing the car. He did it to humor Fadel, but there really is no point in continuing to push a broken car through the middle of nowhere. Fadel refuses to leave his car. Style starts talking him into leaving it there for now and coming back for it. Fadel threatens Style once again: "If my car was stolen, not only would I kill you, I’d take a car from your garage." Style is very unimpressed by this threat. "Take it. Take them all. You own my life."

Fun fact, this is the literal translation of when he says the "own my life" part:

You already have control over my life. มึงก็คุมชีวิตกูอยู่แล้วนี่ [mueng - gôh - kum - chii-wít guu - yùu - láew - nîi] you - [sentence link] - (have) control - my life - [aux] - already - [interjection]

It's interesting, because being in control of something doesn't necessarily mean you own it. Style's life is still very much his own, but he's willing to give it all to Fadel: "Take my cars, my body, my heart. Take everything." And yes, he is mostly sassing Fadel with these words, but there is also a certain seriousness to it. Fadel can have especially Style's body and Style's heart. Fadel can have 100% of Style. Style has made that decision long ago and he's still set on it, despite or maybe even especially because of everything that has happened since. Style's body and Style's heart are entirely free for Fadel to take. It's a sincere offer and it's on Fadel to take it up. Fadel stares at Style in an attempt to figure him out. Then he goes to get his backpack, walks back over to Style and grabs the water bottle out of his hands and then starts walking down the path. Style follows as soon as he realizes that Fadel is listening to Style's suggestion of leaving the car there for now.

No. 5: Murder House

Again we don't really know how much time has passed but at some point Fadel and Style find a house. Style makes a joke about a cannibal family living inside and while I doubt he actually believed in the cannibal family, I do think he's a lot more anxious now than he was about the hypothetical murderer by the car. Fadel replies with a joke of his own to really underline his alleged disdain for Style: "Good. I’ll ask them to cook you. I’m getting hungry." Style doesn't think it's funny and says "Don’t say that. It’s scary." Fun fact, in Thai Style doesn't just imply that he's scared by calling the situation/the thought of a cannibal family scary but he explicitly says that he's scared:

I'm scared for real. กูกลัวจริงนะเว้ย [guu - gluua - jing - ná wóiie] I - be scared - true, (for) real - [particle]

His anxiety gets even more apparent when he suggests returning to the road. Fadel doesn't believe in Style's creative imaginations but does tell him that if a murderer actually shows up he'll shoot them. Then Fadel pulls out his gun just in case (and potentially also to make Style feel more protected) and starts walking towards the house. Style follows, not very reassured. We can tell that his anxiety has grown from the way how at the beginning of the scene Style and Fadel were walking side by side and Style was walking even slightly in front of Fadel but when they walk up to the house Style is now walking behind Fadel instead:

They make their way towards the front door and Fadel knocks and calls out to someone inside. There's no answer. Style is getting more anxious by the minute and urges Fadel to leave: "Hey, it’s not too late to turn back." Fadel ignores him and starts knocking and calling again. There is still no answer. Style hates it. "This is getting scary," he says and I think that this is the point where his growing anxiety turns into genuine fear. Fadel pulls at the door which actually opens up. "What are you doing?" Style asks and his voice sounds really stressed now. Fadel walks inside the house without hesitation. Style immediately follows, but scolds Fadel for trespassing. Style would rather be anywhere else right now than here. Fadel turns his head to Style and says "I don't care." Or rather he says:

You think I'm scared? แล้วมึงคิดว่ากูกลัวป่ะ [láew - mueng - kít - wâa - guu - gluua - bpà] and - you - think - that - I - (be) scared - ?

Style swallows. Fadel continues to call out for someone. Style squints at him. He wants to leave. Suddenly a baseball comes down the stairs. Style jumps and yells. Fadel's hand goes to his gun, ready to pull it any moment. A second later the baseball is followed by a guy who is being chased by another guy brandishing the bat to that baseball. The first guy goes to hide behind Style and with that Fadel and Style find themselves in the middle of a domestic argument. The baseball guy, Popcorn, yells at his partner for a bit and then moves to attack him with the bat. Despite Style's initial fear walking up to the house, instead of shaking the guy off and getting out of the way he reacts by acting as a human shield, putting his arms out in a conciliatory gesture and suggesting to talk it out over using violence. Somewhere in this series there is a point to be made about Style having a tendency to act like a mediator (when he's not actively picking the fight himself) and if I wasn't so busy with uni assignments and my meta series, that would certainly be a meta post I'd be looking into making.

It's only when Style starts speaking that it fully registers for Popcorn that there are currently random people standing in his house. He starts asking who they are and how they got into his house and Style stutters, completely overwhelmed by the situation and certainly not any less afraid. Before Style has managed to form a proper thought Popcorn accuses them of being his partner's side bits. This immediately has Style stressed again and he yells "no" over and over again. Popcorn isn't convinced and goes for another attack with the baseball bat. It's a bit unclear whether Popcorn had planned to attack only one of them or maybe all three of them but either way, the way Style was standing he definitely would have been the first in line to get hit. Fadel pulls his gun even before Popcorn has managed to take a swing at Style. Style stops yelling and stares at the gun in shock. Popcorn drops his bat on the spot and retreats back to the stairs. His partner comes out from his hiding spot behind Style to follow Popcorn. Together they attempt to scramble up the stairs. Style stands still, completely frozen in place, staring at the gun for a few seconds until he finally turns his head to the stairs to watch the odd pair get away from the gun.

I think there are multiple factors to Style's shock here: his anxiety had already started even before they'd entered the house and it only grew from there. Then, Popcorn and Jimmy's appearance hit them both out of nowhere and Style really got roped into it even more than Fadel did with Jimmy grabbing Style first to use him as a human shield and then Popcorn also almost assaulting Style with a baseball bat. I think part of Style freezing is the left-over shock from Jimmy and Popcorn's initial attacks. It all happens very quickly, after all. In fact, Fadel's gun is out before Style has even had the time to properly process the fact that he was about to die by baseball bat. And so I think part of Style staring at the gun is him reacting to Fadel's movement in general and then Style's brain using the sudden break in action to catch up with everything that was happening in the last couple of seconds. Wait, I'm being attacked with a baseball bat. Wait, there is a movement next to me. Wait, the baseball bat attack stopped. Wait, there is a gun. Wait, the attackers are gone. Wait, the gun was protecting me. Wait, what are these two weirdos doing, where are these two weirdos going.

Style's eyes widen a bit as he turns his head to watch Popcorn and Jimmy scramble up the stairs and he doesn't look that shocked anymore or even terrified. He squints his eyes a little and it looks like he's he's in thought, like he's trying to figure something out.

And I think there are a number of things he's trying to figure out. Like, what the fuck to make of Jimmy and Popcorn. Who the fuck those weirdos are, where the fuck they came from, and where the fuck they are going again. Why the fuck they attacked Fadel and Style, but especially Style like this. In the above gif I think Style's brain has finally finished processing what has just happened, is finally all caught up and I think Style actually isn't all that afraid of the gun in this moment because he does realize that the gun did just save him (them) from dying by baseball bat a moment ago. And Fadel did say earlier that he would shoot anyone trying to murder Style (them).

And another thing that I think Style is trying to figure out is whether Jimmy and Popcorn's lives are in danger now with Fadel's gun on them. When Style's eyes widen it's almost as if he's thinking Wait, I just nearly died and Fadel protected me from them and when he squints his eyes it's like Who are these people? Is Fadel actually gonna shoot them now? Do I have to go from worrying about being killed by them to worrying about them being killed?

No. 6: Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Fadel doesn't shoot them. Instead, he has Style tie them to the piano. I do think it's kinda funny how Fadel tells Style "If you’re done, go look for what you need. Hurry up" and Style just nods and sits down on the sofa instead. So much for hurrying up.

Popcorn starts lamenting his pain dramatically. Neither Style nor Fadel are in the mood to listen to a domestic quarrel. Popcorn goes on and on about how Jimmy cheated on him and Jimmy says "They all meant nothing to me". In Thai he actually says:

They were just people I was chatting with. มันก็แค่คนคุย [man - gôh - kâe - kon kui] he/she/they - just - people one chats with

I asked my friend about คนคุย [kon kui] and he explained it to me as "someone you talk to/flirt with (but something serious is not (yet) happening)". So the original is much more vague about how deep Jimmy's betrayal really runs. There's a chance that Jimmy actually did cheat on Popcorn, but there's also a chance that Jimmy was just talking to them without the intent of having a thing with them and Popcorn just took it the wrong way and made a big deal out of it. Personally, my guess is Jimmy did do something for Popcorn to have a legit reason to be hurt, because later Jimmy does talk about trying his best and having been lost, but I also think he might not be as much of a (serial?) cheater as Popcorn is making him out to be in his anger.

Jimmy assures Popcorn that he is serious with Popcorn, but Popcorn doesn't believe him and cries "You were never serious with me! You made me fall for you and then betrayed me". Don't mind me putting the Thai wording here. It will be relevant later (and also don't worry about the orange bit for now, this will also be explained later).

You tricked me into loving you and being crazy about you and then you do this. มึงอ่ะมาหลอกให้กูรักกูหลง มึงก็ทำยังเงี้ย [mueng - àh - maa - lòhk - hâi - guu - rák - guu - lŏng • mueng - gôh - tam - yang-ngíia] you - [particle] - come - trick, deceive - that - I - love - I - be crazy about • you - [sentence link] - do - like this

And this is the moment when Fadel throws Style a look. Style turns his head to look at Fadel as well. Message received.

Jimmy begs for Popcorn's forgiveness but Popcorn is still too upset and in his anger cries out: "The likes of you don’t deserve second chances. The likes of you who lead people on deserve nothing but death!" I'm gonna share a more literal translation again:

There are no chances for bad people. โอกาส​มันไม่ได้​มีไว้สำหรับ​คนเลว [oh-gàat - man - mâi dâai - mii - wái - săm-ràp - kon leow] chance - it - not - have - keep - for - bad people People that trick others into loving them all deserve to die! คนที่หลอกให้คนอื่นรัก สมควรให้ตายไปให้หมด [kon - tîi - lòhk - hâi - kon èun - rák • sŏm-kuuan - hâi - dtaai bpai hâi mòt] people - that - trick - that - others - love • deserve - that - die - all

It's no wonder that this is the thing that makes Fadel, who knows a thing or two about being tricked into loving someone, get up and offer a free kill. Style immediately jumps to his feet and reaches out an arm to Fadel in order to pacify him and to stop him from killing Jimmy. Because Style knows full well that Fadel is perfectly capable of doing so without batting and eye. And again we see Style take on the role of a mediator. Popcorn backs down and admits he was just being dramatic and doesn't actually want his partner to die. But for Fadel it's personal: "But he lied to you." Or Thai he says:

But he deceived you. แต่มันหลอกคุณนะ [dtàe - man - lòhk - kun - ná] but - he - deceive, trick - you - [particle]

Fadel points out the tricking part specifically and again we as well as Style get a hint about what exactly Fadel has been upset about and it ain't the snitching to the police. We aren't shown Style's reaction here but I think it's safe to assume he heard Fadel's words loud and clear considering he is standing right next to Fadel. Popcorn tries to calm Fadel down again by explaining they argue all the time and repeating that he doesn't actually want his partner to die. Fadel looks at them, his expression serious, his gun still pointed. Style observes Fadel carefully, watching his every move:

I think Style is very much afraid in this moment. But I don't think he's afraid of Fadel, I think he's afraid for him. And afraid for the people in front of them. After all, Style doesn't want others to be harmed. We see this over and over again in the way he threw himself into the fight at the host club before he knew Fadel was perfectly capable of fighting for himself, we see this in the way Style grabbed the gun at the bowling alley and pointed it at the shooter to keep him from doing any more harm than he had already caused and we see it now in the way Style immediately jumps to his feet, arm stretched out towards Fadel to try his best to interfere at any second if need may be. Style is afraid for Jimmy and Popcorn, because he knows full well their lives are in actual danger. And Style is afraid for Fadel, because he also knows how much pain this assassin life has caused him and he wants Fadel to quit for his (Fadel's, that is) own well-being. And Fadel's well being is something that is deeply important to Style. Style implicitly told Fadel to quit killing in episode 5 already and later this episode he will explicitly tell Fadel to quit killing again. And every shot that Fadel takes is a step in the wrong direction.

And another aspect that comes to play here is that Style is afraid of dying. This episode has been dealing with Style's very real fear and this fear has taken form in different ways: We started with Style being afraid of his own death by Fadel's hand (last episode for a moment at the pool, this episode when he was crying in the motel bed), then we saw him being afraid of his own death by someone else's hand (the fictional murderer that his mind kept imaging) and now we see him afraid of someone else's death. And yes, the first two were about Style's own death, so why would he be afraid dying now when this situation is about someone else's death, not his own? The thing is, though... Is it really? Is this really about someone else's death? Because the person Fadel is about to kill is Style's mirror. Who is to say that after Fadel has taken care of Style's mirror his emotions won't get the better of him and he'll turn around and shoot the real Style in his hurt, too, while he's at it? So Style doesn't take his eyes off from Fadel, because his own life is still at stake too and how Fadel acts now will give Style a hint about how determined Fadel still is to kill him.

But then Jimmy suddenly changes course. He is willing to accept death if it means Popcorn will be safe. Style is still standing there with his arm halfway up, still tense, still ready to jump into action if Fadel pulls the trigger while Jimmy goes into a plea for Popcorn's life. Jimmy ends it by announcing that he loves Popcorn, which is yet another sore point for Fadel. "If you love him, why did you fool him?" Fun fact, Fadel is so pissed that he actually uses rude pronouns with Jimmy:

ถ้ามึงรักเขามึงจะหลอกเขาทำไม [tâa - mueng - rák - kăo - meung - jà - lòhk - kăo - tam-mai] if - you - love - him - you - will - trick, deceive - him - why

Also, this time we do get to see Style's reaction to Fadel's words:

I think Style partly throws Fadel that look because he is still afraid that Fadel is so angry that he might actually kill Jimmy and is ready to interfere at any time and part of that look is Style taking in and piecing together what exactly Fadel is and has been upset about. During this entire conversation it's always been the topic of loving and tricking and tricking into loving that Fadel's had the strongest emotional response to. That's what Fadel is upset about.

Jimmy doesn't reply to Fadel, doesn't explain himself. Instead he turns to Popcorn and goes into a heartfelt apology. The two of them bicker for a bit. Style's has lowered his arm even more now, but it's still in perfect position to make a grab at Fadel any second if need may be. He checks on Fadel again when Jimmy asks Popcorn to let Fadel shoot him if Popcorn doesn't believe that Jimmy's love is true. The husbands-to-be bicker some more and then Jimmy dramatically offers himself up as a sacrifice again, orders Fadel to shoot him. Fadel clenches his jaw. He knows he can't. He looks over at Style. Style is staring at Fadel intently, observing him, watching him carefully.

And again, I think this stare is about both, checking whether Fadel is still gonna go in for the kill and also Style trying to read Fadel, trying to figure out where Fadel is at emotionally when it comes to his own relationship with Style. Style is actively in the process of piecing together what exactly he's done to make Fadel hurt this much and to make Fadel want to kill him. And I think at this point here, Style is no longer as terrified of a potential murder happening right in front of his eyes the way he was when Fadel had initially pulled the gun on Jimmy.

Speaking of Style's fear, a couple of days ago I saw a post in the tags where someone was asking why Fadel pulling a gun on him was hot to Style but suddenly when Fadel is pulling the gun on other people it's an issue and since this meta series is THE Style manifesto I figure I should maybe write a paragraph about that too. When Style is at the other end of the gun it's hot, because Style is 99% sure Fadel won't actually kill him, won't kill him specifically. But when Fadel is pointing the gun at other people, Style can't be so sure. After all, this is Fadel's profession, this is what he specializes in. Fadel does this on the regular and Style is very well aware of it. The thing is, Style doesn't actually want others to be harmed. We see this over and over again when Style goes and helps people, when Style acts like a mediator in situations. Only last episode Style told Kant that love can turn a bad guy good and I think that's ultimately what he wants for Fadel. For Fadel to quit the job, to stop killing people, to turn "good" for Style and also for himself (putting "good" in quotation marks, because to Style, Fadel is a good person already as he reveals later in the bathtub). Style has already suggested Fadel quits the job even back in episode 5 when Fadel opened up about his parents' murder and about not wanting a relationship in order not to cause trouble to anyone. Style is cool with Fadel pulling a gun on him if no harm is done, but he is not cool with Fadel pulling a gun on others if harm could be done. And at the end of the day Style is also not cool with Fadel pulling a gun on him either, if Style's own life is in actual danger from that. We saw as much by the pool and we saw it again this episode when Fadel was about to kill Style's mirror.

Another thing I find truly fascinating about this scene is how Popcorn and Jimmy are clear parallels to Fadel and Style, but not in the way one might expect. We have Popcorn, the loud and overdramatic one and then we have Jimmy, the calm and collected one. We have Style, the loud and overdramatic one and then we have Fadel, the calm and collected one. You'd think Popcorn would be a parallel for Style and Jimmy would be a parallel for Fadel, but psyche! The calm and collected Fadel relates to the loud and overdramatic Popcorn's problem while the loud and overdramatic Style relates to the calm and collected Jimmy's problems. I think there are various interpretations possible as to why that is. One thing I'd like to think is that Popcorn's loud whirlwind emotions are a representation of how Fadel is quietly feeling inside but would never ever let out in any way, because his walls are that far up. And then we have Jimmy, who did something wrong, but is so serious and sincere in his love for Popcorn, in his longing for Popcorn's forgiveness and in his desire to be with Popcorn, to get married to Popcorn. And as loud and overdramatic Style can sometimes be, Style is completely serious about his love for Fadel and his decision to be with him no matter what. It's not a joke to Style. And Style, too, is longing for that forgiveness, is longing to go back to being happy and in love, is longing to get 100% of Fadel's trust. Fadel has told him before that Style had 80% of his trust, but with the betrayal those 80% have taken a significant dip down. But Style is still serious about wanting those 100% and so he will work his way back up again.

Side note: Another thing I was thinking about was how Jimmy was so willing to take the bullet if it meant keeping Popcorn safe and it just has me wonder if Style will be taking a bullet to keep Fadel safe.

No. 7: Do You Hear the Wedding Bells

Instead of going for a kill, Fadel lets Popcorn and Jimmy have their wedding. Style officiates while Fadel hides in a corner, watching everything from a distance. Style, believer in the power of love, is very happy for Jimmy and Popcorn. He watches with joy as they exchange rings and what I love about this is how Style's joy has such a calm, grounded energy to it. Style prompts the happy couple to kiss and I am absolutely convinced that his laughter when Popcorn jumps Jimmy and Jimmy carries him towards the wall is all Dunk, not Style. Then Style turns his head and looks at Fadel. He is presented with an image of Fadel quietly laughing at this couple's joy and passion and happiness. Fadel then turns his head towards Style as well, but immediately looks away when he meets Style's eyes and his laughter fades.

Remember how in last episode's meta I said:

And it's just veeeery interesting that Style asks Fadel to marry him for the second episode in a row. If it happens again next episode, I'm calling it. But for now, let's wait and see 👀

Well... We didn't get a FadelStyle marriage proposal, but Style's mirror saying "You and I are getting married" to Fadel's mirror? And then the Style and Fadel mirrors actually getting married? With Style officiating the wedding? That's three episodes in a row with a wedding reference in connection to Fadel and Style. Episode 6 with the untranslatable pun, episode 7 with Style's proposal prank, now episode 8 with an actual wedding. Three is a pattern, no? Style may not have uttered the words "Will you marry me" to Fadel this episode, but I'm calling it anyway. These two are so getting married by the end of the series, aren't they...

(Also, sorry for writing so few words about this scene. I don't have words, I only have Big Emotions.)

No. 8: Dinners and Dancing

It's night time now and the four of them are having a nice wedding dinner. Style makes friendly conversation as usual, while Fadel sits there and barely socializes. Jimmy brags about his husband's cooking skills, and Style immediately responds with a brag of his own because his own boyfriend is just as good as cooking. And this time around I think the boyfriend drop is a lot more deliberate than it was at the beginning of the episode, because this time around he actually emphasizes it a little. The word "faen" is the word he stresses the most in the sentence. Then he turns to Fadel and teasingly compliments him: "His burgers are to die for." In Thai, what he says word for word is "make very delicious burgers":

ทำเบอร์เกอร์อร่อยมาก [tam - ber-gêr - à-ròi - mâak] make - burger - delicious - very

Note how there is no pronoun in this sentence. That means, the sentence can be taken either as "He makes very delicious burgers" because Style was just talking to Jimmy and this sentence is still addressed to Jimmy or the sentence could be taken as "You make very delicious burgers" from the way Style is saying this sentence directly to Fadel's face. You hear that? That's you. You're my faen that makes delicious burgers. I love you. Fadel scrunches his eyebrows, skeptical and confused. Style smiles brightly, grabs a spoonful of food and offers to feed it to Fadel. Unlike Fadel earlier that day, Style actually does feed him gently. In fact, he doesn't force the food nor the caring gesture onto Fadel. He holds out the spoon and once again waits for Fadel to go along of his own free will which Fadel awkwardly does after a moment of hesitation. Then, Style goes back to making friendly conversation and we get a bit of backstory about how Popcorn and Jimmy used to live in the city as salarymen and then came to live on a farm because Jimmy loves nature. Style finds in romantic that Popcorn left his good life for a more difficult farm life. Fadel still holds a grudge and asks Jimmy why he cheated when Popcorn had done all of that for him. Jimmy says it's only human to get lost sometimes and that he's come back home in the end. This has Fadel even more pissed. He bangs his fist onto the table so forcefully that it jumpscares Style right next to him. "Only because you take him for granted," Fadel snarls. Popcorn awkwardly says he's already forgiven Jimmy and Style puts his hand on Fadel's hand to calm him down. Fadel looks at Style and Style gives him a little bit of a nod, as if to say Hey, it's okay. You can let it go. You don't need to settle this argument for them. Fadel leans back into his chair, resigned.

Jimmy changes the topic and asks where Fadel and Style are going and Style immediately has a believable answer ready. "We’re heading south. Kinda hoped it was going to be a romantic road trip date." And let me just share a more literal translation about the road trip, because he shamelessly and also very deliberately this time throws around the word boyfriend again:

I wanted to go on a road trip with my boyfriend. พอดีตั้งใจจะมาขับรถเล่นกับแฟนนะครับ [poh dii - dtâng-jai - jà - maa - kàp rót lên - gàp - faen - ná - kráp] because - intend to - will - come - drive for fun - with - boyfriend - [particle] - [particle]

When Style says the word boyfriend, he turns his head and pointedly says "faen" directly into Fadel's face. Because he still considers Fadel his boyfriend, whether Fadel likes it or not. After all, they've never officially broken up. And no, multiple death threats that have involved an actual a gun do not count as a break-up as far as Style is concerned. Not if he still has any say in it. Because their relationship is that serious to him. Because from the moment they started dating, their relationship was never fake to him. Fadel squints his eyes. Popcorn then asks how they met and Style tells them: "I was kinda dared into taking him out, but then I actually fell for him." And again, just a little correction on the whole "I was dared to" part:

It started with me deceitfully flirting with him. มันเริ่มจากผมไปหลอกจีบเขาครับ [man - rêrm - jàak - pŏm - bpai - lòhk - jìip - kăo - kráp] it - start - from - I - go - deceive, trick - flirt - him - [particle]

Nowhere in the way Style phrased it does it say who thought of the idea of the fake flirting. Nowhere does it say whether someone else made him do it or whether it was Style's own idea. Style isn't putting the blame on someone else and in a way is actually even kinda making himself look bad here since it could be taken as Style having come up with the scheme by himself. Popcorn and Jimmy don't know that there are two other guys involved in this story. Popcorn says "Such is love, isn’t it?" and Style turns to look at Fadel for a moment who meets his eyes. Popcorn then continues with "It can start from deceit, but it zigzags its way into something beautiful at the end." Style turns to Fadel again, throwing him a very pointed look. Something beautiful, huh? Did you hear that? Fadel pointedly ignores Style and his pointed look. The newlywed husbands discuss the natural process of a relationship – bickering, fighting, boning. This greatly amuses Style and he looks at Fadel again. In fact, he stares at Fadel for several seconds until Fadel finally properly looks at him. And that's when Style raises an eyebrow at him. Well?

And it's fun, because the scene started out with Fadel doing a thing with his eyebrows and it ends with Style doing a thing with his eyebrows, almost like an answer.

Style's energy in this scene is very boyfriend-like. Fadel took a step back and withdrew at the presence of these two other people, and now that Style doesn't have to fend off Fadel constant stream of personal digs at him anymore, Style comfortably slips back into that boyfriend role. And it's not just that he's comfortable in this role, no, he is proud to be Fadel's boyfriend and proud to have Fadel as his boyfriend. Style brags about Fadel and his cooking skills and calls him his boyfriend to anyone who will listen. Style keeps Fadel in check when Fadel gets hotheaded and is absolutely up for going through the natural process of bickering-fighting-boning if Fadel is up for it as well. And most importantly, Style is simply just happy to be around him, happy to spend time with him. Style is proud of him and he is happy with him and he wants Fadel by his side. He means that choice from the bottom of his heart and so he will act accordingly. Especially now that he is finally starting to understand why exactly Fadel is hurting.

No. 9: Big Small Matters

The time for dinner is over and the time for dancing has started. Fadel and Style sit on the couch, they're watching the happy couple and especially Style is delighted at their happiness himself. After a while, Style turns to Fadel and says "Cute couple, aren’t they? Just like us". This is the third time this evening, a rather short time frame, that Style has made a reference to them being in a relationship (referring to Fadel as his "boyfriend" twice and now calling them a "couple"). And yes, he did blatantly refer to Fadel as his boyfriend when they were talking to the aunty at the motel too, but I think this time around Style is very deliberately and consciously doing so given his observations of Fadel earlier that day. They're a cute couple. Style means it. No joke. No trick.

Fadel is quiet for a moment, then says "We're not a couple". Definitely by sheer coincidence the song that Jimmy put on just happens to be about forgiveness and just happens to play the lyrics Just overlook what is trivial right before Fadel's reply. Style asks Fadel if he wasn't listening to the lyrics and quotes them back at him. Fadel is not amused: "You think what you did to me was 'trivial'?"

Now, the phrase that the song uses to say "trivial" is เล็กๆ น้อยๆ [lék lék nói nói] which word for word makes something like "small small little little". I asked my Thai language buddy if this word was like the word "Kleinigkeit" in German and he confirmed. There is no perfect English equivalent for the word "Kleinigkeit" but it basically means something like "small matter" or "little thing". Depending on the situation there could be other meanings that go along with it. For this context right here "no big deal" could even work in English. Now let me share what Fadel actually said:

You think that you deceiving me is no big deal? (lit. "is a small matter?" / "is small?") มึงคิดว่าเรื่องที่มึงมาหลอกกูเนี่ยมันเล็กๆ น้อยๆหรอ [mueng - kít wâa - rêuuang - tîi - mueng - maa - lòhk - guu - nîia - man - lék lék nói nói - rŏr] you - think that - thing, matter - that - you - come - deceive, trick - me - [particle] - it - small (matter), little (thing) - ?

Fadel uses the word หลอก [lòhk] here, which means "to trick" or "to deceive". That means, he doesn't just vaguely say "what you did to me" but he explicitly tells Style that the thing that has been bothering him is Style deceiving him, Style tricking him. By now you may have noticed a pattern to the orange color: The word หลอก [lòhk] comes up a lot this episode. I've bolded and marked this word orange all throughout this post so you can see just how many times and in which contexts this word is used. Style uses it during the dinner when he says "I was kinda dared into taking him out" (more literally: "It started with me deceitfully flirting with him"), Popcorn uses this word when he cries "The likes of you who lead people on deserve nothing but death!" (more literally: "People that trick others into loving them all deserve to die!") and Fadel uses the word when he says "But he lied to you. (more literally: "But he deceived you.") after Popcorn says he doesn't actually want Jimmy to be killed for real. And now Fadel uses it again to call Style out: "You think what you did to me was 'trivial'?" (more literally: "You think that you deceiving me is no big deal?").

Fadel is mad that Style tricked him, that Style deceived him. This much was already obvious from Fadel's emotional reactions to Popcorn and Jimmy's dispute, but now Style has explicit confirmation. This is where he needs to start working at if he wants to earn Fadel's forgiveness.

The newly-wed husbands walk over and invite them to dance, too. Style is up for it, but Fadel really doesn't want to. Style talks him into it and pulls him up. Reluctantly, Fadel gives in to Style just like he always does.

They dance a little, but at some point Style turns to Fadel, puts his hand on his shoulder, smiles, and tells him: "I know what I did wasn’t 'trivial.' But I’m ready to do anything to make you forgive me." Now for that first sentence you might think that in the Thai line Style repeats Fadel's words from earlier ("You think that you deceiving me is no big deal?") where Fadel used the word หลอก [lòhk] and you might think that Style would use it now, too. But actually, he does keep things more vague in the original itself as well:

I know that what I did was a big deal. (lit. "was no small matter" / "isn't a little thing") กูรู้นะเว้ยว่าเรื่องที่กูทำอ่ะ ไม่ใช่เรื่องเล็กๆ น้อยๆ [guu - rúu - ná wóiie - wâa - rêuuang - tîi - guu - tam - à • mâi châi - rêuuang - lék lék nói nói] I - know - [particle] - that - thing, matter - that - I - do - [particle] • not - thing, matter - small (matter), little (thing)

Maybe Style is referring not only to the fact that he tricked Fadel into loving him but also to how Fadel feels "cheated on" because he did end up falling for Style's (initially) insincere flirting, was head over heels in love with him only to find out Style wasn't his but was "the police's" and that the love wasn't real, was just a trick.

Or maybe there is something we don't yet know about? (Like, there is still the mysterious Boonterm mention from episode 3? Or, something that had COMPLETELY slipped my mind when I was writing my ep7 meta and so ended up writing something from a completely wrong perspective: Style has seen Keen before when he eavesdropped on Fadel and Keen's conversation and so in ep7 in the men's room it could also be taken as Style stopping Fadel from discovering Keen on purpose, which brings up the question... what's up with that????) Or maybe he just keeps it vague so that he can say it at a later point explicitly.

Anyway, so Style firmly tells Fadel that he knows he was in the wrong and that he's ready to do anything to earn Fadel's forgiveness and then pulls him into a hug while they continue to dance. This hug doesn't last very long, though, because next thing Fadel and Style know is that they're being attacked by Jimmy and Popcorn. Luckily, Style sees them in time and shouts Fadel's name in shock and to warn him. They both tumble down and Fadel has his gun out before they've even hit the couch. Fadel shoots into the air and while by now Style is very familiar with the image of Fadel pointing guns, this is the first time he's witnessed Fadel actually fire a shot (from a real gun, that is. Not a BB gun). A shot, that protected not only Fadel himself, but also Style. And while Style does still look at the gun for a moment again, he is nowhere near as frozen or worried as he was when Fadel pulled the gun on Popcorn and Jimmy the few instances earlier this episode.

For a second time that day, Fadel and Style tie up Popcorn and Jimmy. Style makes a comment about how he was off about the serial killer part but they were nearly killed by someone after all. Style's fear and anxiety from the day has proven to be justified. Fadel nags that Style trusts people to easily and that he's only interested in other people's love lives. Style doesn't see a problem with that: "I’m a hopeless romantic. Can’t help it that love stories touch me." Or in Thai:

I'm a romantic person. กูมันเป็นคนโรแมนติก [guu - man - bpen - kon roh-maen-dtìk] I - [marker] - be - romantic person I'm easily tricked by touching things. โดนหลอกด้วยอะไรซึ้งๆง่าย [dohn lòhk - dûuay - à-rai - séung séung - ngâai] be tricked, deceived - by, through - something - touching - easy

I just want to point out that Style uses the word หลอก [lòhk] here. Style gets tricked by romantic, touching things the same way as, you know, someone else in this room feels like he got tricked by romantic, touching things. It's like Style is saying What? Can you blame me? I, too, get tricked by love.

Fadel moves to remove the arm sling and Style goes to help him. Fadel lets him, doesn't block him. And I'm sure it was absolutely necessary for Style to put his arm around Fadel's shoulder like that for easier opening of the buckle. Duh. Style smiles a little as he slides off the arm sling. Fadel makes his way up the stairs. Style first looks at their tied up victims, then watches Fadel walk upstairs. There are certainly things on Style's mind. He'll be voicing them in the bathtub in a bit.

No. 10: Fadel in a Bath Fadel in a Bath Na Na Na Na Na Na Fadel in a Bath

Style finds Fadel in the bathtub and wants to join in. Fadel is reluctant at first, but is also not in the mood to argue with Style and so Style starts getting undressed. Now, usually I'd just skip past this part of Style getting naked and hopping into the tub because it's not a relevant process. However, during this process he does something very interesting: When he lays down his clothes he touches the gun, as if to make a grab for it before he goes and covers it with clothes.

I'm gonna be honest, I really have no idea what to make of this moment. As to why Style covers it, it could probably be because he wants it out of sight, out of the way, wants it gone. Style has made it very clear on multiple occasions that he doesn't want Fadel to be killing people and he will also be telling Fadel exactly that in just another minute as well. Away with the gun.

But if that really is the case, then I still don't understand why Style would touch the gun in the first place. If he wanted to hide it, he could have dropped his shirt down on it without bending down and touching it. But Style does go through the effort and the way he touches it almost looks like he is about to pick it up. The "Style + guns" counter goes up to 5.

Style is also very deliberate about it. He has his eyes glued to Fadel, watching him carefully through the entire process. That has me wonder if Style is maybe testing Fadel. Is he testing Fadel's trust, maybe? Because Fadel did say that the words out of Style's mouth are no longer trustworthy, but what about Style's actions? Are those still trustworthy? Technically Style is also still Fadel's kidnapping victim, so what would the kidnapper do if the victim goes for the weapon the kidnapper has been using to keep his victim in check? But Fadel's reaction is just a raised eyebrow and a bit of an eyebrow scrunch like What exactly is it that you're doing? It's a clear message, but at the same time Fadel doesn't even move a single muscle that indicates he is about to do something to get the weapon away from Style.

Fadel watches Style closely, but doesn't interfere. There is a certain amount of trust involved here, because Style could have easily made a quick grab for it and pulled the gun on Fadel for once.

I actually asked @secriden about her opinion on this because I didn't quite know what to make of it and she came back with an interesting perspective I also want to share:

Oh, I think the purpose of that was to show that Style is really choosing to be with Fadel. In that scenario Style literally has all the advantage— Fadel is naked in a bathtub and he's hampered by a broken arm and literally being in a slippery situation. Like if Style wanted to just take the gun and shoot Fadel there was little Fadel could've done at that point. But Style touches the gun and makes deliberate eye contact and then covers it with his clothes like he's saying "See? Even when you give me the chance to seize control what matters to me is another chance to fix our relationship." He's basically proving his own words when he said "I'll do anything to make it up to you." This includes letting a chance go literally take back his LIFE because the gun still symbolises a threat to Style's life (even if we know Fadel isn't going to go through with it).

After covering the gun with his clothes, Style gets into the tub and the first thing out of his mouth is: "I’m glad you didn’t kill them." And we know this to be true, because we saw how afraid and how tense Style was earlier when the gun was involved. Fadel reminds him that he only kills bad people and even if he disapproves of Jimmy's cheating, at the end of the day it's none of his business anyway. Style states "You’re pretty decent at your core, you know?" and I sigh in exasperation again, because it's not that Fadel is just "pretty decent", no, Fadel is a good person. And buckle up, because there are quite a few language notes to follow over the course of this scene.

Really, you're a good person at your core. จริงๆสันดานมึงเป็นคนดีนะเว้ย [jing jing - săn-daan - mueng - bpen - kon dii - ná wóiie] really, honestly - nature, core - you - be - good person - [particle]

Having made this assessment, Style wants to know how come Fadel is a hitman then and Fadel says he gets hired, there's nothing more to it. Style says it's not true that Fadel is doing it just for the money. Fadel comes back with a challenge: "Why not? You don’t know anything about me." In Thai he actually phrases it like a question which I like because it makes the challenge a bit more direct and Fadel's words sassier:

You know me well? มึงรู้จักกูดีเหรอ [mueng - rúu-jàk - guu - dii - rĕr] you - know - me - well - ?

(German speakers: the mood of this sentence is actually more like "Kennst du mich denn gut?", not just "Kennst du mich gut?")

So Fadel throws Style a sassy question, but Style has an answer, and what an answer it is:

I may not know your past but I know your present well. กูอาจจะไม่รู้จักอาดีตมึงแต่กูรู้จักปัจจุบันมึงดีนะเว้ย [guu - àat-jà - mâi - rúu-jàk - àdiit mueng - dtàe - guu - rùu-jàk - bpàt-jù-ban mueng - dii - ná wóiie] I - may, might - not - know - your past - but - I - know - your present - well - [Particle] Official subs: "I might not know who you were in the past, but I know who you are now."

It's not just that Style didn't know who Fadel was as a person in the past, but also Style was neither present in Fadel's past nor did Fadel share much about his past apart from the fact that his parents were shot. Style may not have been there for Fadel's past, but Style is very much there for Fadel's present, he's lived Fadel's present by his side for a while now and has gotten to know Fadel's life and Fadel himself really well. And Style is here for Fadel's present despite all things that should make him want to leave. Style is here for Fadel's present despite all the things he knows or maybe even because of all the things he knows. He knows Fadel is a killer, but he also knows Fadel is a good person. Being here for Fadel's present, Style's gotten to know many different side's of Fadel that make him want to stay in Fadel's present. Style smiles at him. Fadel can't run away from the mortifying ordeal of being known forever. It's too late. Style already knows him significantly, whether Fadel wants to acknowledge it or not.

Fadel looks away from him and when he looks back at Style, Style brings back the topic of Fadel only killing bad people and asks how Fadel decides. Fadel claims he decides based on his own experiences. Style tells him:

You're not a court passing sentences on other people's lives. มึงไม่ใช่ศาลมาพิพากษาชีวิตคนอื่น​นะเว้ย [mueng - mâi châi - săan - maa - pí-pâak-săa - chii-wít - kon èun - ná wóiie] you - not - court - come - judge - life - others - [particle] Official subs: It’s not your job to judge that kind of thing, you know? Just quit doing it. เลิกทำไปเหอะ [lêrk - tam - bpai - hùh] quit, stop - do - [particle] - [particle] Official subs: Why don’t you just quit? The more you keep doing this, the more your life will never be at peace. ยิ่งมึงทำแบบนี้ ชีวิดมึงยิ่งไม่จบไม่สิ้น [yîng - mueng - tam - bàep níi • chii-wít meung - yîng - mâi - jòp - mâi - sîn] the more - you - do - like this • your life - the more - not - end - not - end Official subs: If you keep going, it will never be over.

You may have noticed that in the interlinear translation of the last sentence it says "not end not end" which doesn't make a lot of sense, of course. Style actually uses two different words for "end" here. I asked my friend about it who explained that "not end" as in ไม่จบ [mâi jòb] refers to something external (the killings) while "not end" as in ไม่สิ้น [mâi sîn] refers to something internal (Fadel finding inner peace). The more Fadel keeps killing, the more he'll be stuck in this life and the more he won't be able to rest.

Fadel doesn't want to be lectured, but Style isn't actually saying all this to lecture Fadel. It's a well-meant warning because Style cares about Fadel and his well-being:

I just think there's probably no one who will warn you and mean well for you as much as I do. กูอ่ะแค่คิดว่าคงไม่มีใครเตือน​และหวังดีกับมึงเท่ากูละ [guu - àh - kâe - kít - wâa - kong- mâi mii krai - dteuuan - láe - wăng dii gàp - mueng - tâo - guu - lá] I - [particle] - just - think - that - maybe - there is no one - warn - and - mean well for - you - like - I - [particle] Official subs: I just think there’s no one out there who wants the best for you more than I do.

Fadel just stares at him and Style smiles back. He means it. After a moment, he puts his feet on Fadel and targets the nipple. First of all, it's time to be a little shit again and try to annoy his way back into Fadel's life and second of all, maybe I think he hasn't given up hope of getting some yet, even if Fadel is still back to being grumpy. Also, it's my personal headcanon that Style put his feet on Fadel for the same reason Dunk did: the tub is simply just too small for these two grown men.

Fadel reminds him that just because he lets Style mess with him it doesn't mean he won't kill Style. Style tilts his head. That's death threat number what? And yet, Style is still here and still able to mess with Fadel. "Go ahead. Blow my head off whenever you want." Style is here, ready to accept his fate. "I’m a bad person for making you fall for me, head over heels, and then betraying you. I deserve to die." And here is where the exact wording is important again. Literally he says: "I'm bad. I tricked you into loving me, I tricked you into being crazy about me, and then I betrayed you. I deserve to die."

Sorry in advance, but the following will be chaos. There is only so much formatting I can do in a tumblr post (I wish I could add a table!). The arrows indicate the literal translation. The colors will make sense a paragraph down.

→ I'm bad. กูอ่ะมันเลว [guu - àh - man - leow] I - [particle] - [marker] - bad Official subs: I’m a bad person → I tricked you into loving me, หลอกให้มึงรัก [lòhk - hâi - mueng - rák] trick, deceive - that - you - love Official subs: for making you fall for me → I tricked you into being crazy about me, หลอกให้มึงหลง [lòhk - hâi - mueng - lŏng] trick, deceive - that - you - be crazy about Official subs: head over heels → and then I betrayed you. แล้วหักหลังมึง [láew - hàk lăng - meung] and (then) - betray - you Official subs: and then betraying you. → I deserve to die. กูอ่ะสมควรตายเว้ย [guu - àh - sŏm-kuuan - dtaai - wóiie] I - [particle] - deserve - die - [particle] Official subs: I deserve to die.

The wording is significant, not just because our keyword หลอก [lòhk] makes another appearance, but because Style repeats Popcorn's (aka Fadel's mirror, the one voicing how Fadel feels inside) words back to Fadel. Let's compare with what Popcorn was saying: "You tricked me into loving you and being crazy about you and then you do this. [...] There are no chances for bad people. People that trick others into loving them all deserve to die!" (Style's words: "I'm bad. I tricked you into loving me, I tricked you into being crazy about me, and then I betrayed you. I deserve to die.")

→ You tricked me into loving you and being crazy about you and then you do this. มึงอ่ะมาหลอกให้กูรักกูหลง มึงก็ทำยังเงี้ย [mueng - à- maa - lòhk - hâi - guu - rák - guu - lŏng • mueng - gôh - tam - yang -ngíia] you - [particle] - come - trick, deceive - that - I - love - I - be crazy about • you - [sentence link] - do - like this Official subs: You made me fall for you and then betrayed me. [...] → There are no chances for bad people. โอกาส​มันไม่ได้​มีไว้สำหรับ​คนเลว [oh-gàat - man - mâi dâai - mii - wái - săm-ràp - kon leow] chance - it - not - have - keep - for - bad people Official subs: The likes of you don’t deserve second chances. → People that trick others into loving them all deserve to die! คนที่หลอกให้คนอื่นรัก สมควรให้ตายไปให้หมด [kon - tîi -lòhk - hâi - kon èun - rák • sŏm-kuuan - hâi - dtaai bpai hâi mòt] people - that - trick, deceive - that - others - love • deserve - that - die - all Official subs: The likes of you who lead people on deserve nothing but death!

As you can see, Style uses almost the exact same words that Popcorn used and they are all words that Fadel had an emotional reaction to earlier that day. Style's been paying attention. Style finishes with "I deserve to die" just like Popcorn claimed was the case and then closes his eyes and tilts his head back a little like Go on, shoot me. I am at your mercy and I am ready to die for my sins.

Two things are happening here with this little monologue: Style is being a little shit by shamelessly mocking Fadel's empty death threats. Style knows Fadel won't kill him over this, because if tricking people into falling in love had been enough of a reason to fall under Fadel's category of Bad Person™ then Fadel would have killed Jimmy earlier that day. But Jimmy is alive. And so is Style.

And the other thing is that Style is also letting Fadel know that he's figured out what Fadel is really angry about. Style is fully acknowledging now what he did that hurt Fadel so much. It's very different from earlier that day when the car broke down and Style was all "Hey, what happened happened. Let it go. Shouldn’t you be looking forward to the future? Focus on the future. Let go of your grudge." I think in the beginning Style assumed that while yes, Fadel would think Style's love was fake, the main thing he was angry about was Style being a snitch for the police. But then they ran into Jimmy and Popcorn. And then Fadel got unnecessarily offended at someone else's trickery in a relationship Fadel had nothing to do with. And Style paid attention. It's not that Style was working with the police that's the problem. The "working with the police part" is the thing that Fadel was already suspecting and expecting from the beginning. Fadel had been ready for that. That wasn't the problem. No, what hurts the most is that Style had the audacity to play with Fadel's heart first before "cheating" on him by being on the police's side. Fadel is upset because he thinks Style's love was insincere, that it was all just an elaborate trick while for Fadel himself the love was all real and Style now fully and actively realizes that. And acknowledges it. Except, Fadel denies his feelings: "Don’t be so full of yourself. I never fell for you."

Now, when Fadel tells Style not to be so full of himself, he actually tells Style not to คิดไปเอง [kít bpai eng]. Literally this phrase makes something like "think by oneself" and it's a phrase that my friend defined as "to come to a conclusion without there being any solid evidence for it". Fadel is basically telling Style something along the lines of "Don't make shit up, I never loved you." And yeah. He does indeed say "I never loved you" which to me sounds almost more hurtful than "I never fell for you":

กูไม่เคยรักมึง [guu - mâi koiie - rák - mueng] I - never - love - you

Fadel is a lying liar. And Style knows it. He stares at Fadel for a moment as if he can't believe Fadel really just dropped this with a straight face, then smiles a little. "You might be good at cooking and shooting, but you’re not very good at lying at all." And with that, Style immediately puts Fadel to the test. He starts slowly kissing his way up Fadel's arms, pausing to check in with Fadel and even more so to check his reaction. When Style gets close enough to Fadel's face, he slowly leans in for a kiss, his eyes fixed on Fadel's eyes. Style advances very slowly, giving Fadel plenty of time. Fadel actually tilts his head a little towards Style, almost welcoming a kiss, but when their noses are about to touch Fadel turns his head away. And you'd think Style would be annoyed about Fadel refusing him once again, but instead Style smiles. Because I don't think Style went into this with the goal of actually seducing Fadel, of actually trying to sleep with him again like he did in the race car bed in the beginning of the episode (though I'm sure he wouldn't have minded if Fadel had consented). No, this wasn't an attempt at getting into Fadel's pants. This was a test. Fadel refuses to kiss Style and Style smiles a little, looking almost amused. He was expecting this.

There it is. Proof that Fadel is a lying liar who lies. Proof that Fadel is mad about and hurt because of the exact things that Style has just listed only moments before. Proof that Fadel did love him. Does love him. Still loves him. Style keeps looking at Fadel, but Fadel keeps his head turned away, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Instead of calling Fadel out for being a liar again, Style raises his eyebrows and backs off.

He sits back down on his spot at the other end of the tub and makes a promise: "As long as I'm alive, I'll make you kiss me again." Fadel, who in the meantime has started looking at Style again, lifts his head and goes back to avoiding eye contact with Style once more. He looks around the room. Looks anywhere but at Style. Looks at the painting at the wall instead. And that's when Fadel realizes. He knows exactly where Bison is. And with this we are left to wait a week for the next episode (except the next episode will already be out by the time I manage to post this rip).

If you think I have already spent enough words on this scene, think again. Because the dialogue in this scene is really interesting when thinking back to the bed scene from episode 5. Back then Fadel told Style "The real me might be scarier than you think". Towards the end of episode 7 and all throughout episode 8 Style has been getting glimpses of that real Fadel that he was warned about. Back in episode 5 Style knew about "the real Fadel" mostly in theory and told him "I promise that no matter what you are like, I'll still like you". And Fadel told Style that Style can judge once he's ready. And what is Style's judgment now that he's gotten to witness some of the real scary Fadel? "You're a good person at your core." And Style's stance on liking Fadel no matter what kind of person he is? "I just think there's probably no one out there who will warn you and mean well with you as much as I do." Fadel warned Style that Style should be wary of him, but Fadel also only kills bad people and Style isn't bad people and Style knows it. Fadel refused to fully open up to Style and right now in his anger he is likely even less willing to open up to Style at all and yet Style knows him, knows his present so well. And Style was even close to witnessing Fadel murdering someone and even though Style would rather Fadel didn't (and doesn't and won't), Style still doesn't judge Fadel for it. And even if Fadel had killed Jimmy, it likely wouldn't have made Style love Fadel any less. Back in episode 5 Style made the decision to be by this man's side and now in episode 8 he still firmly stands by this decision. In fact, maybe even more so now. Both of these scenes end in a promise made by Style: As long as I'm alive, I'll make you kiss me again. One day, I'll be your 100%. Style is absolutely set on this. And it won't be long until he makes good on that promise. At least on the promise he made this episode.

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