#if you thought i would say car think again

[f1fantasys]

lando norris versace with 1 and 8 🙏🏻

I'M SO SORRY I haven't been posting much. Your girl has been busy BUT I'm backkk. Hopefully with a bang. Hope you enjoy this one!

Versace - exes hooking up1 - rough and filthy8 - in the shower

The breakup hadn't been messy at all. It was a mutual decision since you both had demanding jobs, and staying together would ruin whatever good was left of your relationship.

You were a mess initially, though you didn't let anyone see that side of you. You loved Lando so much and to suddenly not have him there whether it was physically or over a phone was one of the toughest things you'd been through. And what hurt more was how quickly he seemed to move on. A new girl on his arm every weekend in different countries.

Yes you had tried to go on a few dates but no one came even close to Lando. You found yourself comparing every guy to him, and half the time you made up an excuse to leave early, run home and drown in your sorrows.

So here you were, 6 months later, getting ready to go to Jimmyz for Carmen's 25th birthday. You tried to get out of it, knowing there was a high possibility of Lando being there, but she assured you he wasn't in town.

Still, you heart was hammering in your chest, nervous for whatever reason. It had been a while since you'd got proper dressed up and made an effort. You opted for a tight, lace, black mini dress that left little to the imagination, your cleavage threatening to spill out a any minute.

It was already 10p. And while you were waiting for Carmen & George to pick you up, you got a text that stopped your heartbeat. His name, popped up on your screen, for the first time in a long time.

Lan

Hey..y/n. Uhh this is random, but George is having car trouble (yes, car trouble in Monaco, that's what he said, don't @ me pls ;)) so he's asked me to pick you up. Be there in 10?

You couldn't help but smile at his humor, it was always one of your favorite traits of him.

But still, were you ready to see him? No. Did you have a choice? No

Before you let yourself think too much, you texted back.

Y/n

Car trouble for an f1 driver? lmao Sure, see you soon.

You gave yourself a few pep talks, hyping yourself up to be in close proximity, and alone, with your ex boyfriend whom you're still losing sleep over. Great start to the night, you thought.

Not 10 minutes later and there was a knock at your door. You gave yourself a once over in the long mirror by the front door, before unlocked it, pulling it open while holding your breath.

There he was, looking as handsome as ever. Dressed in a black shirt with the top buttons undone, backwards cap, slight stubble, piercing green eyes. You were swooning, your core clenching at nothing but just the sight of him.

You didn't miss how Lando's eyes shamelessly roamed your body, up and down, then back up again, licking his lips in the process. He stayed a few seconds too long on your cleavage before eventually clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back up to yours.

You both bore into each others' eyes, unable to tear your gazes away. You wanted to say something, but you were sure the words would get stuck in your throat.

All you managed to whisper was his name.

''Lando'' you said softly, biting your lip.

You didn't miss how Lando's jaw tightened and eyes darkened when his eyes caught sight of your plump lips between your teeth. And apparently that was enough to send him over the edge.

Before you could even respond, let alone comprehend what was happening, Lando had stepped forward, his hands on your shoulders as he pushed you backwards to the wall.

Your breath hitched in your throat, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body, and suddenly your legs were like jelly.

He held onto your shoulders, while yours took a hold of his biceps. His face was mere inches away from yours, his breath mixing with yours as you both were gasping for air, before he leaned slightly more forward, forehead bumping yours, nose nudging yours, lips ghosting over yours.

As if you could read each others minds, his eyes searched yours. ''Can I?'' he asked, voice deep and husky.

You quickly nodded your head, desperate, ready for whatever it was he was about to do, before his lips crashed into yours as his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

You cupped his face as your tongues battled each other in the heated kiss, spit already starting to mess your chins as Lando gave your bottom lip a few bites.

You immediately tasted the iron caused to flow freely through your mouth, whimpering when Lando continued attacking your lip with his teeth.

By now he was groping your ass, feeling the heat of his large hands through the barely there fabric of your dress.

Your hands traveled up to his hair, pulling and tugging on his precious curls as he now let our a series of his own whimpers.

You broke the sloppy kiss, desperate for air as your chest was heaving, giving Lando the opportunity to drag is mouth down to your neck and adorn it with wet kisses, biting and nipping at the sweet spots he hadn't forgotten.

You held back your moans, not wanting to let out just how desperate you were, when suddenly Lando pulled his head back, green eyes hazy but full of lust.

''Let me hear you'' he whispered, before resuming his antic on your neck while his hands slid to the straps of your dress and pushed them off your shoulders.

He groaned when he was met with your bra-less state. Your perky boobs on fully display, nipples already hardening with the cool air of your apartment.

''Fuck'' you heard him coo, more to himself, as you leaned down to connect your lips to kiss again, while he all but ripped the rest of your dress of your body.

You broke the kiss in an instant. ''Lan!"' you shrieked, but he smirked back at you.

''Don't ''Lan'' me'' he said, eyes scanning your body, lingering at the sight of your glistening pussy, dripping, clenching around nothing.

You should have done the right thing and stopped things from going any further. But do you listen to your head or your heart? The latter won out.

You quickly fumbled with Lando's shirt buttons, ridding it off his body as your hands explored his taunt muscles and V-line, before settling on his belt.

''Not yet'' he mumbled, already leaning down to latch his mouth onto your left nipple, your hands wrapping around his head again, lewd moans leaving your mouth as he butchered both your nipples.

Your chest was heaving, mind unable to form any words, except for a few that were to beg him. ''Lan, please'' you managed, pulling at his curls to get his attention.

He locked lips with you once again in a gentle, tender kiss, unlike how the last few minutes unfolded, before he hoisted you up over his shoulder, making a beeline for your room.

Not expecting him to walk into your bathroom, you hissed when he set your ass down on the cool tiles. Lando stepped between your legs and once again, you both stared into each others' souls. He took his time and let his eyes linger on your plump lips, already bruised with the destruction he gave them, while your eyes studied the scar on his nose.

You couldn't help but reach out and let your finger waltz over it, giggling when you thought back to how he'd even gotten it in the first place.

Lando couldn't keep his chuckle in either, and even if it was just for 30 seconds, the whole world faded away and it was just the two of you in your little bubble again.

But things quickly heated up again when Lando bit his lip as you finally took a hold of his belt again, and using your feet you dragged his jeans down his legs, leaving him in only his boxers.

Both your breaths were staggered again, anticipation growing between the pair of you.

Just as you were about to rid him of his boxers, Lando firmly took a few steps back, before leaning forward on his hands, head now in tow with your cunt, as he spread your legs open and wasted no time in nuzzling his face through your folds.

His actions had you gasping of hair, hands latching onto his head again as he took a deep breath in, taking in your own scent of his favorite part of you.

Lando's tongue poked out of his mouth, licking a hot strip up your cunt which had your back arching, hips bucking into his face and it wasn't long until he was lapping at you, suckling and nibbling through your juices.

You let out a series of dirty moans, grunting whenever he bit down too hard on your clit before soothing it with his tongue and blowing lightly on it.

''Missed this so much, my dirty little pussy'' he said, breath increasing with each taste he got of you.

''Lan, fuck baby, so good. Feels so good'' you moaned, already feeling the warmth build up in your stomach.

Lando knew you were close, and to tip you over the edge he let two of his fingers slide through your hole, curling them at just the right time to hit your G-spot as you squeezed your eyes shut and bit down on your lips, surely drawing blood but what the man was doing to you was surely going to end you. It felt amazing.

''Let it out'' you heard him say, somewhere at the back of your mind, and when he bought one hand up to pull at your nipples, your orgasm ripped through you in waves, your body shuddering in his arms as you came all over his face.

He didn't slow his movements though. Lando knew how much you could take, and so he didn't pull away until you came again. He stood back up, lips and chin glistening with juices as your hooded eyes took him in before pulling him closer to taste yourself on his lips.

You moaned into the kiss. ''Hmm, Lan, please'' you begged as he finally started lowering his boxers, stepping back to step out of them.

You couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his thick girth, bouncing around before standing tall and hard, angry.

Deciding you needed to taste him, you started sliding off the counter to sink onto your knees before Lando turned around and turned the shower on, leaving you staring with your mouth agape at his ass.

You didn't even realize you were staring until he cleared his throat with a smirk on his face. ''Éarth to y/n'' he said, taking your hands and helping you into the hot spray of the shower.

For a moment you both just stood there, holding each other. Your mind was racing, shocked at the quick turn of events, and as much as you wanted to continue, you had to take some time for your brain to catch up to what was happening.

You looked up and Lando, heart clenching at how beautiful he looked. The water soaking up his gorgeous curls which were now stuck to his forehead, the way it traveled down his perfectly contoured cheeks and jaw, and onto his thick neck that always made your legs quiver just by looking at it.

''Lando, I-''

''I know'' he said, cutting your sentence short, voice husky but weary.

You could feel tears start to prickle the corners of your eyes so you squeezed them shut.

''I know, baby'' he started again, tucking your hair behind your ear. ''But this feels so...right''

The nickname caught you off guard even thought it wasn't the first time he'd said it since he came.

''We can talk later. But for now..let me..yeah?'' he softly asked, hands already trailing over your back and ass.

Finally, you gave in, nodding your head. Because as much as you needed to talk, you also needed him in more ways that that.

That was all Lando needed to see before he pushed you flat against the wall, his hands cupping your face and kissing you hard and dirty again, sloppy, with an intent to ruin you.

And you weren't complaining. The second he had you sandwiched between him and the wall you felt his dick twitching against your stomach, so you quickly took him in your hands and started pumping him, all the while clenching your thighs together.

''Fuck me, please'' you begged as Lando's fingers found your core again, sliding them through your folds as you saw him smirk.

''What?'' you pressed.

He shook his head before chuckling. ''Just forgot how wet you are when you're needy'' he teased.

You gasped, ''I am not needy!'' you protested, though your face gave you away.

''Oh, so you're not wet for me? Not dripping for me?'' he asked, before plunging two fingers through your hole again, any words you were about to throw at him caught in your throat as you let out a lewd moan.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned down to take one of his nipples into your mouth. Lando hissed at your actions. ''Fuck me'' he said, speeding up his fingers that were thrusting through your cunt.

''You could feel another orgasm approaching quickly, and you were getting more and more desperate to feel his dick slide through you.

''Lando please, need y..need you in me, fuck'' you mumbled.

''Patience baby, just stretching you out for me, yeah?'' he asked, and your mind spiraled at the thought of how big his dick was.

At that you came all over his fingers, gritted teeth as you praised his name while Lando slowed his fingers before pulling them out of you.

He brought his hand up to your mouth and pushed them in, watching with hooded eyes as you sucked them clean of your juices, moaning at the taste of yourself.

His eyes softened for a split second, ''gonna let me fuck you baby?'' he asked, in that god damn husky voice that had your trembling with anticipation in his arms.

You were sure no words would come out of your mouth if you tried to talk, so you just nodded your head like a eager one you were.

He smiled at that as he pumped himself a few times, pre-cum already oozing out of his tip.

Lando lifted your one leg to wrap around his waist as he lined himself up at your entrance, his eyes searched yours for consent as you nodded again, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss as he slid into your cunt with a forceful thrust.

The both of you breaking your kiss to grunt at the feeling of him filling you up to perfectly as Lando stayed still for a few seconds to allow your core to accept the intrusion.

''Fuck me, please'' you panted as you gave hum the go-ahead.

Lando pulled out of you completely, hissing at the loss of contact before he slammed back into you. Then back out, and in again, setting a relentless pace.

He slumped his body forward on yours as he fucked in and out, hard and rough.

''Fucking hell y/n, so tight baby. Clea-clearly didn't fuck you enough when we were together'' he said.

That was a lie, you both knew it.

The water was starting to turn cooler, but neither of you gave a fuck.

You could feel your walls start to clench painfully around his dick, pornographic moans leaving your mouth as Lando was getting all the right spots inside of you, showing you no mercy.

You lost it when his hand reached up and wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing it. His action had your orgasm taking over your body, shaking in his arms as your liquid coated his dick in a milky white cover.

Lando looked down to see exactly that, and he groaned at the sight, edging closer to his own orgasm as he picked up his pace even more so.

''Fuck, Lando. So good. Baby you're so big. God'' you moaned as you bit down on his shoulder.

Your legs were full on jelly now, so he hoisted you up, wrapping both your legs around his torso, continuing to pound into you.

''M' close Lan'' you said, not even the slightest bit embarrassed at how quickly your orgasms were washing over your body.

''Let it out babygirl'' he cooed, latching his lips to yours.

You could feel his cock start to twitch inside you, Lando seconds away from exploding as he bought his one hand down to toy at your clit, sending you into an array of filthy moans once again.

''Oh..I- fuck, baby'' you mumbled, before you were cumming again, violently so, all over Lando again.

'''Fucking hell. Where do you want it?'' he asked.

''In me, please. Cum inside of me Lan'' you said quickly, too quickly for your liking.

And within seconds Lando was emptying his load deep inside your cunt. His warm juices filling you up as he gently placed you back down and pulled out of you.

You both stood there, eyes hooded and chests heaving at what you'd just done. Lando turned the now cold water off, leaning his hands on the wall behind you for support as you were still latched to his shoulders.

You looked down and saw a milky white streak making it's way out of your cunt and down you thigh. And when Lando followed your eyes to see what you were looked at, he was quick to collect the sticky liquid off your thigh and plunge his fingers inside your cunt with no warning.

''Fuck Lan!'' you almost jumped at the unexpected thrust, cunt already sensitive.

He smirked up at you. ''You said 'in you', yeah?''

You brain short circuited, clenching your thighs together.

Lando helped you out the shower and dried both of your naked bodies off before hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you to your bedroom, plopping you down on the bed.

The air should have been charged with awkwardness, but it was anything but that. Your brain, still fucked out, quickly came back down to earth and you gasped.

''Carmen, birthday, club?'' you said, looking at your phone which was flooded with calls and messages. One stood out.

Carmen

Well, since neither you or Lando are answering, I'm taking this as two exes fucking. Enjoy...and you owe me ;)

Lando giggled as he looked over your shoulder, and suddenly it dawned on you that were both still naked.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Lando's member, still hard as fuck. And suddenly were 'weren't sore anymore'.

Lando must have caught on to what you were gawking at, and so he came to stand right in front of where you were sitting on the bed - cock in line with your eyes.

Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn't bare to look up at him, knowing he was smirking down at you.

You watched as his dick sprang around with his movements, Lando gently collecting your hair out of your face and holding it in make shift ponytail.

Finally, reaching forward, Lando bucking into your hand as you spread the few beads of pre cum around his tip.

''Fuck me'' he whispered, watching intently as you leaned forward and let your tongue run the length of his shaft, spending more time than needed suckling on the vein bulging out, before you took his tip in, sucking at it harshly.

''That mouth of yours'' you heard him mumble as you squeezed your legs closer together.

He'd had enough of your teasing though, so Lando held the back of your neck with one hand as his other guided his dick through your lips and as far deep into your mouth as he could.

You gagged instantly, hands flying to hold onto his thighs as he fucked himself in and out of your mouth, letting out a series of moans and grunts, praising your name.

''Ug, fuck, y/n, that's it baby, taking me so good. Gonna be my slut again, yeah?'' he asked as you moaned around him.

It wasn't long until you felt him start to twitch, his movements getting sloppier and grunts getting louder.

''Not gonna last y.n, where?'' he asked.

He should have known though. You took a long of his balls now, pulling and tugging at them as you pumped the part of his cock that couldn't fit into your mouth, and in no time you felt the warm splutter of his thick cum shoot down throat.

''Fucking hell baby'' he mumbled as he pulled out, leaning down to kiss you in a messy make out session that had your spit and his cum messing both your faces.

''Need to fuck you again. But just give me a few minutes yeah?'' he asked, already pumping himself to get hard again.

Not 10 minutes later, and Lando was hovering above you, pushing his dick through your cunt again, making you cum twice before emptying his load into you.

After cleaning you both up, your lazy state pulled Lando into bed and cuddled him. You could talk in the morning, or so you thought.

Because you woke up the next day with his face between your legs, his tongue lapping at your pussy as you grabbed his hair and pulled at it, vulgar moans leaving your lips.

He looked up at you when you stirred awake, before hovering over you, letting all his weight fall on your body as he kissed you, tongue pushing into your mouth while his hands settled on your boobs.

After a lazy make out session, he finally pulled back. ''Ride me?'' he asked, eyes dark.

You scoffed but smiled at him. ''I know you just want to see my boobs bounce around'' you said, already pushing him off you so you could straddle his body.

''Guilty'' he smirked, hands already tugging at your nipples.

You reached behind your ass to take Lando's hard girth, pumping him a few times before lifting yourself slightly to slide him in.

You both groaned at the feeling, fitting together perfectly as you stayed sitting on him for a few moments.

Lando kept his eyes on yours, holding a familiar sense of security and trust, but you quickly pushed that thought to the back of your mind because you still had to talk.

Instead you focused on your task. You steadied your hands on his shoulders and started to move, up and down, quickly setting a hard and rough pace, fucking yourself on his pole as you watched him, mouth agape, his eyes trained on your boobs that were literally bouncing with each thrust of yours.

''Oh..my fuck. Missed this fucking view'' he mumbled, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips as you rode him like your life depended on it.

''Lan'' you grunted, already feeling your orgasm approaching.

''That's it babygirl, doing so well for me. Riding me like the fucking pro that you are'' he said, bringing his hand down to toy at your clit.

''Lan you feel so good, so big, fuck, fill me up, please'' you begged.

''Gonna fill you up for the rest of my life, baby'' he whispered over the sounds of your moaning.

You looked at him and allowed yourself to imagine a future of waking up like this everyday, tears threatening to run down your face as he cupped you.

''I'm serious. Not letting you go. I still love you so much y/n'' he said, and with that your tears spilled over, and so did your cum, oozing out of you and coating his dick.

''I love you too Lan'' you said leaning down to give him a sloppy kiss as you picked up your pace again, desperate to make him cum.

''Fuck, nearly there'' he said. The air charged with an anticipation of what was to come as you both beamed at each other.

You purposely clenched your walls around him, and within seconds Lando was shooting thick loads of cum through your pussy, praising your name.

Normally you'd have ridden him through it, but this time you wasting no time in climbing off him and taking his cum coated dick into your mouth, moaning at the taste of both your juices mixed.

''Fucking hell, y/n''

….and that was how the rest of your lives started 🩷

[nagis-wife]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇: Nagi Seishiro, Eita Otoya, Rin Itoshi 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3k 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: Accidental confessions - I love you. 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fem!reader, fluff, comedy, pet names used, could be a little angsty at times but nothing over the top but figured I should mention it.

--- Authors note: I may have gotten carried away with these. But I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. It was not proof read either so if there's any mistakes apologies ♡

Eita Otoya ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Eita nearly always wore his headphones to drown out the city sounds that never seemed to stop. He was sure he would have hearing loss by his 30’s if he kept listening to it as loud as he did. But it was the only thing that would drown out the beeping cars and someone yelling at someone for bumping into them. Eita loved his music more than anything yet somehow almost every single song he would play somehow reminded him of you. He wanted to rip his hair out, he wondered if you ever got so fucking tired from running around his head. Eita was sure, you did this purely to torture him.

“Eita.. Hey look at me yeah?” You spoke, voice sounding like an angel. Loud in his ears as if the people in the movie you guys were watching were just speaking in whispers. Eyes setting on your face, seeing your kind ones looking back at him with such a gentle gaze. He's never felt this way before. Sure he's been around a few times but nothing has compared to the butterflies twirling around in his gut begging for him to say how he truly felt. 

Things were casual, having met in a music store and going out on a couple ‘dates’. Eita saw them as dates, never knowing if you did. The two of you never discussed what either of you wanted. Eita didn't even know how you felt about him, let alone if you were even interested in him, more than just being friends anyways. Yet here he was, his hands clammy, feeling a lump in his throat and he felt faint. Eita tried to tell himself he was just being dramatic. That the worst you can say is no.

Eitas hands reached out to yours as he looked down at you as he blinked “Yeah? Sorry. What were you saying?” He said, as if he wasn't fully distracted by his own thoughts as they were seemingly in overdrive. As if his heart wasn't currently pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out you entirely. “I asked if you were okay, you don't seem well.. Do you wanna take a raincheck and come back tomorrow? I promi-” You were cut off by Eita sighing, not that he was irritated, he was, but with himself. “No.. no that's not it. I swear. I do have something I need to tell you though” He trailed off as he took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you. I could go as far as saying that my feelings are so strong one could possibly call it love. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm not sure what to do about that.” 

You let out a laugh, Eitas veins running cold, not that it lasted long as he felt your hands wrapping around his waist, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Silly boy, ya know for someone who was a playboy, youre really bad at reading women” You teased as even you felt warm, weeks of courting Eita turned into this? One would say you were the winner here. 

Relief floods his pretty green eyes as he chuckles a bit, wrapping his hands around your waist resting his face in the crook of your neck. He felt so light, as if a ton of bricks was lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the warmth that radiates from your body. “I think I should be the one saying that, my love. You have no idea how much you lift me just by being next to me, my beautiful muse” Rubbing his back as you sighed gently, 

“Yeah I can tell.. You flirt much less now with others, only with me huh playboy?” You joked as you pulled from him just enough to see his face as he stood straight up again with a knowing smile “Yeah yeah thats because of you idiot” Rolling your eyes you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Whatever you say ya simp.” You joked as you grabbed Eitas hand watching from his apartment window the city below you, the snowflakes falling steadily. Eita grumbled something as he moved to sit behind you wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your head. “That was rude” 

“Yeah yeah, you'll be okay playboy” You teased as he groaned. A laugh leaving your lips, yeah you two will be perfectly fine. 

✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nagi Seishiro  ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Nagi didn't think he needed anyone, and how wrong he couldve been. After befriending not only Reo but you.. Nagi soon came to realize that maybe everything isn't a hassle. Maybe.. Just maybe.. He actually enjoyed having you around. It wasn't often that he would pause his game just to respond to your text, hang out with Reo more often than normal, or even leave his apartment willingly just to see you. Nagi didn't understand his own feelings with this, looking up stupid articles about his feelings to try to understand them. One word kept showing up, “love.” Nagi was confused by this development. Did he actually love you? It wasn't the same rapid beating in his chest when he was hanging out with Reo, not that his heart skipped a beat when he was with Reo. That has to be it - right?

He wasn't sure how it happened or why his chest had felt so funny when you were around. Maybe it was the humidity in the air, yeah it was just the heat. Rather the heat that would raise on his cheeks when you so much as looked in his direction with a soft gaze, or even said his hair was cute and complimented him well. How his grey toned eyes fit his features so nicely. Nagi didn't know what to do with himself when these things happened, his face would get just hot, his stomach would do so many flips he felt sick. Nagi couldn't even handle your gaze, how would he be able to even hold your hand, to press his lips against yours. They looked so inviting, so soft. He would stay up thinking about you, how you would taste.. Shaking the thoughts as he tossed and turned. 

“Seishiro!? Earth to Seishirooo!” You waved your hand in front of his face as you sat across from him as he blinked a few times at you, his cheeks heating with a soft hue. Clearing his throat as he looked back down at his phone. His reaction made you stifle a laugh before leaning back in his bed, your back against the wall “Hmm something on your mind?” You questioned as your gaze drifted to your own phone as you scrolled through your feeds. Yeah, you. “Hell no. I was.. was distracted by uh.. something going on in my game. Don't worry about it. It's gone now anyways.” He lied through his teeth as you raised a brow and tilt your head to the side, almost as if you were calling his bluff. “Mm, right. So what was I talking about then?” Nagi couldn't recall a single thing you had said, too distracted by your lips and how the sun beams that seeped through his curtains hit the gloss that was on your lips. “Uhm.. uh..” He looked at everything but you as he tried to come up with something. 

An amused grin curled at the corner of your lips, leaning on your elbows. “I was talking about Reo and how he looked really hot, all dressed up y'know.” You too, lied through your teeth but that was not the point right now. Nagi felt an unfamiliar sensation flooding his veins as he clicked his tongue against his teeth before tossing his phone aside, a pout on his lips. He turned to you as he huffed. Jealousy and insecurities flooding his body. “I'm just teasing Seishiro I cou-” He cuts you off as he looks at you with eyes filled with determination which shut you up quickly as he opens his mouth several times before shutting it again. 

With his feelings being higher than he ever thought they could be he blurts out words you half expected to never fall from his lips “I love you okay!? I don't want to hear about Reo or h-how hot you think he is, or how strong he looks. I-I know I wouldn't match up to him. I've been alone most of my life. I don't know what these feelings are. I just know that.. I can't match up to him for you. I'm not Reo.” 

Looking at him with a shocked expression as a soft sigh left your lips reaching across the table grabbing his hands into your own. “That is the insecurities talking, Sei..” You moved closer to him as a hand rested against the top of his head, nails grazing against his scalp, earning a soft groan from his throat as he leaned into your touch.

You sighed softly as you felt the anxiety radiating from his body. “Sei. Do you really think that if I actually wanted Reo that I would be here with you all the time? That I would wait for you to come online just to be able to play games with you? Seishiro.. The feelings I have for you would outweigh anyone like Reo. No amount of money would change how I feel about you. I talk to the stars about you, whispering to the wind hoping you would hear how much I love you. Not even the Gods could keep me away from you Seishiro. I'm sorry if talking about Reo that way made you upset.” 

Nagis eyes searched for yours, as if he was looking for something in them. However he's only met with a soft gaze that was filled with nothing but adoration. He moves to sit up as he nearly tackles you back against the mattress, his arms wrapping around you rightly his head finding its place in your chest. A laugh pulled from your throat as he nuzzled against you. 

“You mean it?” He murmured, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah, I mean it, Seishiro.” You spoke as you reached to card your fingers through his hair as he gave your frame a squeeze falling in love with the way you felt in his arms. Yeah, maybe not being alone is nice.

Rin Itoshi ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Meeting Rin was purely an accident and neither of you remember how it happened. Well Rin did, he fully remembers the moment you walked into his life standing by his side even when he was the lowest he had ever been. Rin did not however remember when he fell for you. Maybe it was when he first saw you, maybe it was after. Maybe it was when you first breathed his name rather than calling him Itoshi. That didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew is what he wanted to protect you no matter the cost or consequence of his action. He would move mountains if you asked him too. 

Rin has always kept to himself, he found it hard venturing out, let alone understanding how he felt about you. Let alone he found it hard to even think with how he was that you would ever feel the same about him. Did you too feel the same as he did? Rin knew he was good at one thing, and still had his own self doubts. 

Now the two of you were on the train home, having gone to see a new horror movie Rin had convinced you to go see. You had been scared out of your mind the whole time while Rin didn't seem to even move a muscle while watching it. However the movie still ended up being really good. Rin had invited you over to his place for some dinner, and you weren't going to say no to his cooking. He somehow was amazing in the kitchen. Not that you knew how, but you weren't going to complain at all. 

The setting sun casted beautiful hues of pinks and purples in the sky. Stopping as you pulled out your phone, Rin had stopped looking back at you as you snapped the photo. Friends dont look at friends that way. However the thought passes as quickly as it comes into your head. 

“Rin wait, stay just like that, look up towards the sky.” You told him as he sighed but still entertained your request. Humming as you tisked before walking over to him grabbing his cheeks as you adjusted his head. His cheeks felt cold under your touch. “There just like that dont move pretty RinRin” You teased as you took a few steps back again taking a few snaps as you smiled at your phone. 

“Sometimes you should listen to me Rin” You mused as you showed him the photo, it did look great as he playfully rolled his eyes “Sure, I'd rather not do that. A bit too.. Lukewarm for me doll” 

A gasp passed your lips as your jaw slacked at his harmless insult. He most definitely did not see you as lukewarm. “Ouch I'm wounded, might need some homemade cookies and ice cream to fill the wounds you've caused me” You said dramatically as you gripped his jacket falling to your knees, giggling the whole way down. Rin couldn't help but to look at you with a raised brow and an amused expression. A chuckle being forced from his chest as he grabbed your hand pulling you back to your feet. 

“That was the most dramatic thing you've done, however if you want cookies you're gonna make them yourself or at least help me.” He spoke, a smile, albeit small, still on his lips. “Rin.. the last time you let me in the kitchen I almost burnt down your apartment and I also ruined the baking sheet. That's not a good idea.” 

Rin remembered this happening, the screaming of his name, and panic in your voice. Trying to waft out the smoke all while to get the smoke detector to stop beeping, crying out how the fire department was going to show up if he did help. All the while he was doubled over holding his stomach as belting laughs rippled from his throat. Rin was not helpful at all. It was one of his favorite memories the two of you shared. 

“Yeah I'd prefer if you didn't do that again. I'll take care of it” he spoke with a monotone voice as he grimaced.

Finally making it back to his apartment, with you not in the kitchen while he made dinner, choosing to just pull out the store bought cookies hoping it would be enough to appease you. Idle conversation filled the air as the two of you ate. However, getting a notification on your phone stating there had been an accident with the trains and you were now going to be stuck or get a taxi in hopes that it wouldnt take hours to get you home due to the amount of added traffic due to the trains being down. 

“You could always just stay over. I think you still have some clothes here, if not you can just wear mine.” Rin stated as if it was the only option. Not that he was wrong, however it did sound better than dealing with the hellish drive home. 

“Fine but you better keep your boyish hands to yourself” You teased as you skipped to his bedroom and flicked on the light. Humming as you changed into lounge wear, it was much more comfortable than what you had on before. 

Peering out from the door once you were in your Pj’s “Come on, I'm ready for bed. It's a damn good thing I have clothes over here from the last time I stayed over. I'd hate to be in your stinky clothes” You teased. Rin has never smelled bad. In fact you bought the cologne he had worn and even when he got low he would buy the exact same one again. You did say it was our favorite afterall. 

Rin let out a groan as he stood up and walked over to you, and entered the room. Following you into the bed, watching you wiggle around to find a comfortable spot as his hands came to his hips with raised brows, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You're somethin’ else I swear.” Rin walked into the closet to change in there as he stopped out. Seeing your chest steadily rising and falling. His gaze lingering for a moment. Taking out his phone as he took a few photos, to tease you with later. 

Finally climbing into the bed, he was sure you were in a deep sleep as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. Selfishly he knew his feelings. Rin pressed a kiss against your forehead as he sighed. “I love you so much. You have no idea what you do to me, you little minx.” Although Rin couldn't have been more wrong as he blinked a few times as he felt you shift under his weight, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Ya know, confessions are best given when someone is awake RinRin.” You teased, as he avoided your gaze only for you to bring it back to you as your hand was pressed against his cheek. 

“And you're awake, so it makes it easier for me too.” You murmured as you leaned forward, lips locking together as if it was the most perfect puzzle pieces locking together. “I love you too. We will talk more about this in the morning and what that means for us, however, for now. Protect me from the monsters under your bed, yeah?” Rin only nodded, his cheeks tinted pink as his heart raced in his chest. Feeling you adjust yourself in his arms, your face in the crook of his neck. 

This was perfect. You were perfect.

♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Likes and reblogs are appreciated! My requests are open as well!.

tags: @pixelcafe-network @hayatoseyepatch @hayatoseyepatch @sugurouge

taglist is open for bllk content, lmk if you want to join.

[wendichester]

༘⋆📼 ｡˚ songs that make me think of d.w.,

summary. driver picks the music, shotgun... made the mixtape .ᐟ

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 844.

The gas station is quiet, the kind of place you only stop at when there’s no other option. Snow drifts lazily down, coating the ground as Dean pulls the Impala up to the pump. He steps out of the car, stretching with a grunt as the cold air hits him, walking around to the gas station to fill up. You sit in the passenger seat, glancing back at Sam in the back, his face pressed against the window, dead to the world. He's been asleep for the past couple of hours.

You reach down to grab the cassette tape resting in your lap. Songs That Make Me Think of D.W. is scrawled across the label in your handwriting. The whole drive here, you’ve been working up the nerve to give it to him. You try not to overthink it, trying to convince yourself it’s just a fun little thing. No big deal. Except it is a big deal because it’s for Dean, and everything with him feels bigger.

By the time he slides back into the driver’s seat, you’ve almost chickened out.

Dean exhales, rubbing his hands together for warmth before starting the engine. “Damn, it’s freezing,” he mutters, glancing back at Sam to confirm he’s still asleep.

You feel the weight of the tape in your hand as you glance over at Dean.

“So, what’s that?” he asks, voice still teasing as his gaze flicks to the tape in your hands. Of course, he noticed. He had noticed miles ago. But decided to wait to see if you would say anything. He got tired of waiting.

You hesitate, but finally, you offer it to him. “It's a mixtape,” you say casually, pretending like it’s no big deal. “I made it for you‒for the road.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, looking at the label. “Songs that make you think of me, huh? Well, color me intrigued." He chuckles. "What is this? Some kind of Christmas gift?” He smirks, clearly amused.

You roll your eyes, leaning back against the seat. “Don’t make it weird. It’s just some songs that remind me of you. Thought you might like it.”

Dean chuckles, sliding the tape into the deck. “Oh, I’m definitely making it weird. This is prime teasing material, sweetheart.”

As the first song starts, you feel the warmth in your chest when you hear the opening chords of “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. He leans back, letting out a satisfied sigh as he listens, his fingers drumming lightly against the wheel.

You can’t help but glance over at him, watching the way the music seems to take him in, his shoulders relaxing. His lips curve up at the edges, his eyes softening.

“You know,” he says after a few moments, his voice a little quieter, “this is one of my favorite songs.”

“I know,” you reply with a small smile, trying to keep the heat out of your voice.

Dean looks over at you, a glint of amusement still in his eyes. “Yeah? You think of me when you hear it?”

You shift in your seat, giving him a sidelong glance. “Maybe.” You bite your lip, feeling the slight weight of the moment between you two. “It’s… fitting. You know? With the whole ‘always on the road’ thing.”

Dean smirks, his thumb lightly brushing the steering wheel. “Ah, so you’re saying I’m a ‘simple man,’ huh?”

“Not exactly,” you tease. “But you do have your own way of doing things. And yeah, it’s a little… comforting.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, glancing at you again. “Comforting...” He pauses, his lips curling into that signature grin of his. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, trying to fight back the grin that’s tugging at your lips. “Just take the tape, okay?”

“I am taking it,” shaking his head as he shifts the car into drive and pulls back onto the highway. The song continues to play, filling the space between you. Sam stirs briefly in the back but doesn’t wake. “But I’m gonna get you back for this. You’re too cute when you get all flustered.”

You smirk, feeling your face heat up. “Flustered? I’m not flustered.”

Dean chuckles, the warmth in his voice making you feel like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

He keeps driving, the snow swirling outside the window as the song plays on. You’re not sure if it’s the music, the moment, or the way Dean is just… there, but the silence that falls between you doesn’t feel awkward. It feels… like home.

Dean turns his head, his gaze lingering on you. “You’re not getting out of this easily, you know. I’ll be playing this mixtape for the rest of our trip.”

You grin, the feeling of him staring at you making your heart race just a little. “Glad you like it.”

Dean’s fingers lightly tap on the wheel again, and he finally looks away, focusing back on the road. “I do,” he says softly, and you can hear the sincerity under the teasing tone.

taglist ��.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ֶָ֢ @deans-daydream

[cowboybeepboop]

Release

"Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Your friendly coworker Clark takes care of your needs. 

a/n: As always I hope you enjoy and send any requests you might have my way!

Clark is your annoyingly perfect coworker, you know the type: always on time, always right, never makes a single mistake, and never has a hair out of place, let alone a stained shirt.

Your irritation grows as you rub the coffee stain from your white button-down, thoughts filled with the idea that you’ll find him at his desk, right next to yours looking as *perfect* as ever. 

It's been one thing after the next, first, you saw your long-time boyfriend cheating on you in YOUR apartment with your best friend, then some dumbass hit your car completely totaling it which leaves you taking the subway every morning attempting to be on time yet you always seem to arrive just five minutes late, and now your stupid shirt. Your favorite shirt. 

It’s silly to think you’re fighting back tears over a $15 button-down when you didn’t even react to seeing the two most important people in your life raw dogging it on your sheets. Taking deep breaths you adjust your hair, flattening it down, and blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. At least you’re slightly on time, even if it meant leaving home 30 minutes before you'd usually even wake up.

Finally, you give up on the stain coming to terms with the fact that a slight brown tinge is better than being late *again*. You slip into your chair with a quiet huff, pinching the bridge of your nose as you gaze at the clock on the wall. Glancing to your side you see Clark, he's 15 minutes early, smelling like heaven, he looks sleek as always, without a single hair out of place. 

Clark catches you looking at him as you huff and puff next to him, he tries not to chuckle at the frown on your face before he turns to you, friendly and unassuming as usual, completely oblivious to any issues you may have. He smiles his signature warm and charming smile.

"Good morning, you're here on time today, finally," he teases, his tone light and innocent, not realizing his words sound like a veiled jab when they fall from his lips.

You turn to him, eyes narrowed in an intense glare. "Mind your own business, Kent." You grumble, your usual (fake) friendliness gone like your ex-boyfriend. Focusing on the computer in front of you, you log on, scrolling through the endless emails.

Clark blinks awkwardly at your response, surprised by the harshness in your voice. He’s not quite used to you snapping at him, sure you have your moments but you’re rarely outright hostile.

He sits back, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, slightly perplexed about how to respond.

Clark hesitates for a moment, debating whether to address your change in tone. Clearing his throat, he tries to keep his tone lighthearted. "Um…is everything okay? You seem a bit, uh…”

He trails off, realizing that nothing he says will help his case and that you may actually bite his head off if he continues. So he shifts slightly in his chair instead, averting his eyes from yours as he pretends to focus on something on his computer.

"Look, Clark." You sigh, turning to him once again, tone much softer this time, "I don't need your pity, there's no need to pretend like you care." you slip out of your chair, heading to the break room to grab another coffee. 

Clark raises an eyebrow at your words, his lips curving into a slight frown as he watches you go. He waits a few moments before silently following you, his steps almost soundless as he approaches you at the coffee machine.

He stands behind you, his presence quiet and calm, as he studies your expression before speaking.

"Who said anything about pretending?" He asks, his voice low and earnest.

You're standing on your tippy toes, attempting to reach the coffee on the top shelf of the cabinet. "Why would you care about me and my problems? We're *just* coworkers." 

Clark swallows, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest at your dismissive words. He leans against the counter beside you, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he contemplates how to respond.

"Just coworkers..." he mutters softly before sighing quietly, "Right."

He watches you struggle to reach the coffee for a moment, his hands twitching in his pockets as he resists the urge to reach out and grab it for you.

Clark can't tear his eyes away from the way your body stretches and extends with every effort to reach the coffee, the muscles in your thighs and backside taut and prominent as you stand on your tippy toes. It's an unconscious and innocent action, but it's affecting him more than he'd like to admit...

He clears his throat again, shifting his weight and trying to control the thoughts that begin to flood his mind. But as he watches you struggle once more, his restraint is slowly but surely beginning to fray.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, finally managing to grasp the coffee grounds. "I didn't mean it like that Clark." once back on flat feet, you look at him with a gentle expression. 

The tension drains from Clark's shoulders as he hears your apology, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. He manages a small smile, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly. 

"It's okay," he replies quietly. "I understand. You've clearly got a lot on your plate."

He can't help the way his eyes wander over your figure again, lingering on the way your body moves and molds with each movement. The words "I care" hang on his tongue, but he swallows them back down.

Once the machine starts brewing you lean against the counter, crossing your arms under your breasts as you let out a small strangled sigh. "I didn't mean to snap at you either. I've just got a lot going on.." 

Clark's eyes track your movement, watching as you rest against the counter. His eyes seem to linger on the way your arms press against your chest before he manages to force his gaze back up to your face, his cheeks flushing from the heat that spreads through him.

"It's okay," he says again, offering a reassuring smile. "You don't have to explain yourself. I..I get it."

He hesitates for a moment, mulling over his next question before finally swallowing and asking, "Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you're willing to beat up my ex-boyfriend for me," you chuckle dryly, eyes focused on the empty office. Being the two newest employees you're stuck with the early early morning shift. 

Clark lets out a small, surprised laugh, the sound rich and warm. He leans back against the counter, mirroring your position as he grins at you. 

"Tempting," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "But I think I'd rather help in more...legal ways."

You smile, finding his presence comforting and relaxing, finally putting your restless mind at ease. Your bare thigh brushes over his as you turn to grab a mug, the fabric of your skirt lifting up ever so slightly. "Well, I'll let you know if I can think of anything you can help me with." 

The contact sends a jolt of electricity through Clark's veins, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your skin brush against his. He attempts to keep his reaction discreet, but the way his eyes widen slightly betrays his composure.

He swallows, his mind racing as his gaze drifts down to the exposed flesh of your thigh, the smooth skin on display making his thoughts whirl and pulse. 

"Yes... Please, let me know," he manages to mutter, his voice thick with an undertone he hadn't intended.

"Want some?" you hold out the mug to him, noticing the way his gaze is trained on your legs, a slight flush creeping up your neck. 

Clark is snapped out of his reverie as you hold the mug out to him, his eyes flicking up to yours for a moment before darting down to the mug in your hand again.

He clears his throat and reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the mug. The contact sends another spark of electricity through his body, his cheeks flushing slightly as he quickly averts his eyes.

"Uh...yes, thank you," he stutters, trying to disguise the nerves in his voice.

You notice his strange demeanor, eyebrows furrowing as you fill your cup. "Now it's my turn to ask if everything is alright," keeping your tone playful, you gaze up at him softly. 

Clark swallows again, his heart thudding against his chest. He shifts awkwardly on his feet as you question him, his mind racing to find a believable excuse, but failing miserably.

The way you look up at him with such soft, concerned eyes is making it even harder to maintain his composure.

"Uh...yeah, I'm fine," he stammers, forcing a smile. "Just...uh...just a bit tired, that's all."

"And here I thought you were always on the top of your game." you tease softly, reaching to put the coffee back up, sneakily adjusting your skirt so it reveals more of your body. 

Clark watches you strain to reach the high shelf, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes he should have helped you get it down in the first place. He steps closer, his body now mere inches away from yours, his chest almost touching your back.

He reaches up and grabs the coffee, his arm brushing against yours in the process. The proximity is enough to send another shiver down his spine. He places the coffee back on the shelf before turning to you, his voice softer this time. "Next time, just ask for my help."

"Clark.." you breathe out his name, shocked by the electricity his touch fills you with. "I, uh, could've put it back myself you know."

Clark freezes, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of his name slipping from your lips. He could swear he was imagining the way you breathed his name, the way it sounded almost like...like a gasp.

He lets out a small huff, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I know," he says quietly, his eyes fixed on yours. "But I wanted to help."

"Mhm..." you murmur, gaze trained on his muscular body as heat rises in your cheeks. Your heart pounds in your chest, something about the way he touched you makes you heated. 

Clark's chest tightens as he registers the way your eyes rake over his frame, his skin burning in the wake of your gaze as you take him in. He swallows, the sound seeming louder than normal to his heightened senses.

The subtle shift in your breathing, the hint of flustered color adorning your cheeks, the heat radiating from your body... all of it feeds into the growing tension between you two.

"Clark," you step closer to him, gathering all the confidence you can. "There is *something* you could do to help me..." 

Clark's heart thuds harder, the closeness of your body almost intoxicating as he feels heat begin to pool in his gut. He inhales sharply, the scent of you clouding his senses as he struggles to focus on your words.

His voice is low and gruff when he responds, barely a whisper, "Anything."

"I want.." you take a steadying breath, "I want you." you press your fingers into his side, pulling his body closer to yours.

Clark's breath hitches as he feels your fingers press into his side, a shudder coursing through him as you pull his body against yours. He lets out a soft, involuntary moan as he feels the heat of your body against his, every nerve in his body on fire with need.

He looks down at you, his eyes wide and dilated, the last few remnants of restraint finally giving in. "Christ..." he mutters under his breath.

"There’s no one here right now," You bite on your bottom lip, knee sliding between his legs as you press against his groin. 

Clark lets out a hiss, his breath hitching once more as he feels the heat and friction of your body press against his. The unexpected sensation of your knee between his legs sends a jolt of pleasure through him, his hips involuntarily bucking against you as he fights to keep control. 

His voice is a low, ragged growl as he responds, "You're not playing fair.."

"I'm not.." you murmur, fingers moving to unbutton his slacks, "I never play fair," 

Clark's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your fingers on his slacks, his body frozen as he watches you undo them, freeing his erection from the confines of his clothes. The feel of your touch, the implication behind your actions, is driving him crazy. 

He lets out a strangled moan, his breath ragged and irregular. "This...this isn't...we shouldn't be doing this here," he stammers, his voice lacking conviction as his eyes remain fixed on your hands.

"Exactly... That's what makes it so," you press a kiss to his jaw, "exhilarating" 

The feeling of your lips against his jaw is enough to send Clark over the edge, any shred of restraint he had left evaporating into thin air. 

He lets out a breathless growl, the sound thick and heavy with desire, as his hands reach out to grip your hips. His grasp is firm, the strength in his hands evident as he pulls you even closer to him, his body flush against yours. 

"You...you're killing me.." he groans, the heat pooling in his stomach almost unbearable.

Clark's mind is reeling, the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch driving him crazy as he lifts you onto the counter, his movements surprisingly precise and controlled despite the whirlwind of desire coursing through him. 

As he pushes your skirt up, revealing your bare thighs, he lets out a low, guttural sound, his eyes fixed on the sight of your body in front of him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this..." he murmurs huskily, his voice strained with desperate need.

“Clark, please… I need you,” you whine, body aching with months of unfulfilled desire. Your ex never quite knew how to use those 4 inches. 

Clark's breath hitches, his heart thudding in his chest as he hears the pleading tone in your voice, the sound nearly breaking him in an instant. It's doing something to him, to his ego and his emotions.

He leans in, his lips against your ear as he whispers, "Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.." he spreads your legs, pulling you to the edge of the counter, pressing his tip against your aching cunt. 

Your face contorts in pleasure, the gentleness of his touch, the desire behind his eyes, and the idea of being caught, all of it is working to make you ache even more.

He slowly slides into you, moaning as your pussy stretches around his thickness. Clark keeps his thrusts slow, gently working his way deeper inside you, and your nails immediately dig into his shoulders. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you’re intoxicated by his touch, “mm so big.” you moan needily, hole clenching around him. He groans, large hands moving across your frame as he finally bottoms out, his tip hitting the pleasure point in you. 

“Is this okay?” He cups your face, pressing soft kisses to your lips as he gives you time to adjust. 

Clark’s question hangs in the air as you both pant and tremble from the intensity of the moment. You nod fervently, your eyes never leaving him, the silent communication speaking volumes of your need. He takes that as his cue, his gentle touch turning to one of urgency as he begins to move within you. 

His strokes are deep and deliberate, each one hitting that spot that has you clinging to him tighter, your moans growing louder with every passing second. The office around you fades away as you become lost in the sensation, your mind racing with the illicit thrill of doing something so taboo with your coworker. 

His kisses become more passionate, his tongue claiming your mouth as he picks up the pace, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing in the quiet space. The tension between you two has been building for months, a dance of wills and glances, and now it’s all culminating in this desperate, passionate embrace. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his firm ass, urging him deeper with every thrust. The break room becomes a cocoon of passion, the only sounds are your muffled cries of pleasure and his grunts of effort. 

The friction between you builds a delicious pressure that demands release. You can feel him swell within you, his need matching yours. Your breaths become gasps, and your eyes widen as the first waves of orgasm crash through your body, tightening around him. "Clark...I'm gonna..." you manage to breathe, your voice shaking.

Clark's eyes darken with desire as he feels your orgasm approaching, his own need reaching its peak. He increases his rhythm, driving into you with a passion that surprises even him. "Cum for me," he whispers, his voice thick with need. 

The sound of your impending climax is his undoing, and he lets out a guttural groan as he joins you, his hips bucking against yours as he fills you with his release. 

The aftermath is a haze of heavy breathing and racing hearts, the realization of what you've just done slowly sinking in. You cling to him, your bodies still connected as the tremors of pleasure subside. 

Clark's heart is still racing, his body shaking from the intensity of the moment, as he gazes at you, his fingers tracing gently across your face. He's silent, his breath ragged and labored, as he absorbs the enormity of what just happened. 

The silence between you is thick and heavy, filled with the weight of what you both just did. Clark's eyes flicker between yours, a mixture of concern and wonder in his expression. Finally, he speaks, his voice rough and low. "Are you..are you okay?"

"More than okay," you murmur, dazed and utterly satisfied. "You're so good, Clark." you slide off the counter, standing on shakey legs.

Clark helps you steady yourself, his strong arms wrapped around your waist to support you as you make your way to the bathroom. He can't help but chuckle softly at your unsteady legs, a mixture of pride and amusement filling him. 

Once you're both freshened up and presentable, he walks you back to your desks, his hand resting gently on the small of your back the entire way. 

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, his voice now smug, his eyes searching your face.

"Much, much better." you grin satisfied by his disheveled appearance. The perfect Clark Kent is barely able to concentrate on his work, his hair is slightly frizzy and out of place, and his shirt is wrinkled, all of it makes your stomach pool with warmth once more.

Clark can't help but chuckle at your satisfied grin, his cheeks flaring with a hint of blush as he realizes the state he's in. He reaches up to straighten his hair, only making it more tousled in the process. 

He catches sight of his wrinkled shirt and wrinkled and he lets out a low sigh, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "I look like a complete mess, don't I?" he says, a sheepish grin on his lips.

"A perfect mess," your tone is light, eyes full of admiration.

[revelboo]

Merry Christmas!Can we get something for Blaster?

Why not. I do like his Batman antenna. Just a note- I imagine the holomatter avatars look perfectly human. So perfect that they unconsciously freak real humans out. You look at them and your brain says, yep, that’s a human, while your subconscious is all animal instinct screaming that it’s not

Shoot Me In The Smile

Blaster x Reader

• Servos drumming on his console in the uncomfortable aftermath of Megstron’s broadcast, Blaster leans back and glances at Optimus. Listening to Ironhide’s belligerent disbelief that any Cybertronian would frag a human, his optics keep catching on the look their leader’s face. Knows that there’s more than a a few humans in the Ark. He’s seen them being carried about by their caretakers like exotic pets. But now he’s wondering about it. About Jazz sneaking out constantly and returning scenting like human. Of Optimus and Prowl both scenting much more strongly of the little organics than the other caretakers. And the almost pained look on Optimus’s face as Ironhide rants. They all have their secrets, he guesses. And he’s going to be late if he doesn’t go now.

• Putting your car in park, you press your forehead against the steering wheel. Count to ten to get yourself together, shut off the engine, and get out with a smile firmly in place. Pulling the awkward case out of the passenger side, you sling the strap over your shoulder and head inside. Spotting the rest of the band setting up, you throw up a hand in greeting and hear your drummer whoop at you. Making your way backstage, you start changing your clothes. Shedding yourself in favor of leather and glitter. Lining your eyes and painting your face until a stranger stares back at you. Someone who’s not timid, not terrified of crowds and overwhelmed by the noise and heat of the spotlights. The version of you that people actually like and you despise. “You should wear the wig tonight. They love it.” Turning, you smile weakly at your lead bassist, but oblige him. And it really is a stranger staring back now. All of you erased and gone.

• “Again?” Pausing at the door of his habsuite, he glances at Eject as the cassette frowns up at him in obvious disapproval. Because he has no idea how to explain the obsession. He’d found you on a local station, surfing the airwaves out of boredom. And realizing you were a local, that the bar you played out of was so close? He hadn’t been able to resist. Using his holomatter avatar to slip inside just to hear you play. Something about the dissonance in your music had called to him, wedging in his spark and his processor. Music almost frantic, pure rock and roll, but your vocals, ranging from sweet to haunting, are what had snagged him. “I won’t be out late,” he says as Eject vents and exchanges a look with Rewind, worrying about him.

• Lingering just off stage as your heart races, you study the see of faces milling about. And realize you’re looking for your guy. The one whose expression never changes, who just stares at you the whole time you sing making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You almost swear he doesn’t blink. That intense focus of his is unnerving. Fascinating and a little frightening. You can’t tell if he has a crush on you or if he’s deciding where to hide your body. As the lights dim, you blow out a shaky breath and move onto the stage with your band mates. Hand lifting to wave as you smile even though you’re shaking and can’t hardly breathe. This should get easier, right? Except it never does.

• Hiding in the woods outside the bar, he transforms into his alt mode so if he’s discovered while his attention is divided, all a human will see is a boombox, feeling the pull as he mass shifts down past what would be possible for a normal Cybertronian. Draining his reserves every time. Shivering slightly, he focuses on the avatar and it glitches into existence. There’s an errant thought as he walks to the bar. What do you think of his avatar? Do you like it? Generating an ID to show the human at the door, he makes his way inside, focusing to stay solid as he works his way to the front of the crowd. It wouldn’t do for someone to accidentally pass an arm through him and start screaming. And then there you are, guitar in hand, eyes closed as the lights dim and the spotlights bathe the stage in ruddy light. Hands shifting on the strings, your eyes open and unerringly find him as the music swells and you sing just for him. The crowd gone until it’s only you two.

They’re not patient at all

[thoughtfulfiction]

The Game Plan

Author’s note: Merry Christmas Bolt fam🩵Still working on rewrites but I needed to write something new to get inspired. I am done with school so I’ll hopefully be able to get fics out more often!

Last time he was this nervous, he stood on shaky legs in front of a New York crowd accepting the William V. Campbell trophy. Public speaking wasn’t his favorite thing in the world and he hated talking about himself. But this was about a hundred times more important. And more nerve wracking.

When Justin suggested flying to your hometown to spend some time with your parents, you didn’t bat an eye. You’d been talking about making a trip back home after the season was over and were elated to discover that he was on the same page. Now that the time had come and you were looking at him as he drove the rental car to your family home, you couldn't help but think maybe he was regretting his decision. The man was constantly fidgeting in his seat, his grip on the steering wheel tight, eyes full of stress and semi concern.

"You okay?" You furrowed your eyebrows at him, urging your boyfriend to let you in on whatever was causing him such turmoil.

"What? Oh yeah no, I'm fine." He knew that sounded less than convincing. "It's just weird with the season being over. Almost like I have to learn how to relax again. This week will be good though."

Nodding in understanding, you place a hand on his leg hoping that the simple touch will ease his mind. Little did you know he was in the midst of a huge inner crisis. Justin rehearsed what he was going to say a few more times before pulling into your parent's driveway. Swallowing down his nerves, he grabbed your suitcase and his, walking toward the front door feeling like his legs weighed a ton each.

Your mom had already taken you away to the kitchen by the time he walked in, immediately lost in conversation about work and life while your dad grabbed one of the bags out of Justin's hands. The two men trudged up the stairs to drop off the bags, exchanging pleasantries and getting settled in before heading to the backyard to cook. Your dad loved Justin. He was the perfect partner for you, a perfect mix of fun/exciting and responsible/caring. He had seen you fall more and more in love with the quarterback over the years which made it easy to love him too. And getting to talk about football all day with someone who actually valued such intimate conversations about the sport helped.

All of the distracting small talk was out of the way, Justin had complimented your dad on his new grill and the improvements he'd made on the backyard and they had unpacked some of the nitty gritty details of the season and who your dad thought they should draft as perfect additions to the roster for the next season and the only thing that remained was the pit of nerves in his stomach that hadn't disappeared since boarding the plane.

"Something on your mind?" Your dad was observant, not really one to beat around the bush. He'd noticed a slight edge to Justin's voice since the two of you had arrived and was really trying to wait to give him some time. He'd obviously gotten too impatient. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Justin's had relationships before. Not many times, but he's felt security and love in other people, seeing a future with them and thought about what the rest of his life would look like. Being with you was not only the most serious relationship he'd ever been in but he found himself constantly planning for the future and setting his family up for long-term success, a family that he now couldn't envision without you. He swallowed thickly, suddenly overcome with emotion at the words that he needed to express to your father. "There is something on my mind actually," he clears his throat, trying really hard to maintain eye contact and not look down at the grill. "I wanted to come here first thing to ask you for your permission."

"My...permission?"

"Your permission, your blessing. Either one. Or both." Your boyfriend rambles on nervously, the words tumbling out of his mouth completely out of order and unlike anything he’d just spent time practicing.

Your dad still looks at him, confused. Justin sighs, "I love your daughter more than anything in the world. She’s the greatest thing in my life and I never thought I’d have the opportunity to be with someone so special. Now that I’ve gotten to be with her I don’t ever want to let her go and...it's really important for me to ask you before I propose."

In that moment it all begins to click and your dad nods. Here was one of the most calm and collected quarterbacks in the NFL stumbling over his words out of nerves because he wanted to ask for permission before getting engaged. A man who's build could arguably be compared to ancient Greek deities was a mere mortal when it came to you and it took every ounce of your dad's strength not to crack a smile. "You came all this way to ask me if you can marry my daughter. So you could do this in person?" The younger man nods. "Before I answer, can you promise me one thing?"

"Anything." Justin says without hesitation. He didn't care what he had to do, he just knew he was going to do it no matter what it took.

Your dad looks toward the house, watching you and your mom laughing while getting the sides set on the table. He looks back at Justin, eyes brimming with tears. "She is my greatest treasure. Promise me you will treat her like nothing less than that."

"I will sir, you have my word."

Justin holds out a hand and your dad pulls him in for a hug. "Welcome to the family son," patting him on the back. The quarterback swore he heard a crack in the other man’s voice but said nothing.

You watched the exchange from the kitchen, slightly confused because your dad didn't exactly give out free hugs like they were Halloween candy. "What is happening out there?"

Your mom catches her husband's eye at the end of the hug, seeing him point at his ring finger and trying to contain her excitement. "I'm sure it's nothing," she smiles, handing you another plate to set on the table, "Justin probably asked him if he wants to golf tomorrow. You know he's been trying to get more into it and bringing an NFL quarterback in front of all of his friends is definitely going to boost his confidence." The two of you stood in silence for a bit until you seemed satisfied with that answer and the two men were back inside, immediately distracting you from asking any further questions as conversation flowed as the food and wine were consumed. Justin helped your mom wash the dishes that night, deep in some secret conversation filled with sporadic giggles and all you could think about was how lucky you were to find someone that fit in so seamlessly. Little did you know they were planning a surprise that you'd never forget.

Step one? Find the perfect ring.

"Isabella, I need a favor," Justin takes a seat at the counter next to his sister-in-law. "You need to distract y/n for a couple hours so I can go through her phone."

Placing her own phone down, she looks at him like he's grown another head. "Why in the hell would I do that? Why would YOU do that?” The more she talks the more visibly upset she looks and Justin is severely regretting not being more specific.

“It’s—it’s not what you think. I just—”

She holds up a finger to keep him from explaining himself any more. “I just want you to know that I’m never thought you’d be one of those people and it’s really disappointing.”

He sighs, looking around to make sure that you aren’t walking in any time soon. “I heard you guys talking last week. About how you had a bunch of videos in your Tik Tok likes that helped you plan your wedding. Then she mentioned that she’s been saving some rings that she thinks would look good on her and I need to see those. So I can design the best ring.”

The tension in her body is instantly released and her features are filled with relief. She holds a hand over her mouth to hide a happy squeal before taking a moment to compose herself so she doesn’t give anything away when she sees you. “You’re proposing,” she whispers leaning in close so no one else can hear.

He leans in too, a wide grin on his face. “I’m proposing.”

“I’ll keep her busy,” she promises, giving him a fist bump.

A girls only DIY spa night in gave him the perfect outlet to grabbing your phone. As soon as the cucumber slices were on your eyelids and Isabella gave him the sign, your cellphone was in his hand and he got to work. He screenshotted 13 different ring designs, jotting down some notes in his own phone, looking at various ring styles and the cut that would best match the style that you were looking for. Then he jotted down some local jewelers to visit and design the ring in person, going as far as flying your best friend to Oregon for a few days under false pretenses that she had a work trip in the area and decided to stay at the ranch since it was nicer than a hotel.

Approximately four weeks after his initial meeting with the jeweler, Justin held the velvet box in his hands and admired everyone’s hard work. He’d had a hand in designing every crevice of the ring that looked much smaller in between his fingers as he examined the diamond. Fresh nerves were beginning to set in as the moment became more and more tangible and real. Once he found a secure spot to hide the ring, he moved forward with the next part of his master plan.

Step two? Come up with proposal ideas.

The beautiful thing about the offseason was that you still had to work remotely, so you’d be in your office in one corner of the house and after his morning workout he had all the free time in the world. The bad thing about that was that he had all this free time to sit and think about how he was going to set up an unforgettable proposal. Luckily, some of his receivers had come down for a Nike promo event and to throw so he had people to bounce ideas off of.

“What about this? I take her to Sofi and propose in the middle of the stadium with just the two of us. We have the video board showing monumental moments of our relationship and as she’s watching I just get down on a knee.”

Ladd takes a sip of water, making eye contact with Derius, who says nothing. Justin continues pacing, taking the collective silence as a sign to suggest something else.

“Don’t everyone jump up at once,” he lets out a nervous laugh, wracking his brain. “Maybe I could drive us to Napa Valley with dinner and some music?” That suggestion earned more interaction, some guys nodded, recalling their own proposals and having him take some pointers from their experiences. There was a time where he couldn’t log onto Instagram without seeing one of his teammates getting engaged and the only thing that made him more nervous than proposing was the media circus that would result from the news getting out. Yes, he wanted it to be special and intimate but the thought of the social media team getting their hands on it and invading your privacy was a little scary. Somehow he had to push that thought out of his mind and tackle one problem at a time.

“Private beach proposal in Hawaii?”

Simi stands up at the suggestion, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Sounds beautiful in theory, but aren’t you scared of having the ring so close to the water?”

“Yeah what if you’re so nervous that you drop the box and it’s washed away by the tide,” Ladd notes. “The less distracting things around you the better. Helps you focus on just her.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, he’s obsessed,” Patrick says, walking by just to chastise his brother. Justin flips him off without uttering a word, an unwavering focus on the task at hand.

Nothing seemed right, some ideas were too flashy, too cheesy. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, how you’d changed his perspective on life and balancing work and your relationship. That it was possible to do both because the right person brings things out of you that you didn’t even know where there. How do you encompass all of those feelings into one perfect location?

“I’m not gonna lie,” Simi says, voice full of sincerity. “You gotta let the perfect time come to you, you’ll know when the time is right. Trust me.”

Justin had no other choice at this point. He spent the next few weeks holding onto the ring, desperately looking for the right time. Spending all this time stressing and planning and plotting had really taken him away from you. There was an unspoken distance between the two of you and it had become increasingly upsetting. Even when you were in the same room it felt like he was miles away, stuck in his own head, shutting you out completely. You were starting to think that he was looking for a way out and couldn’t decide on a way to let you down easy. The thought of him tip toeing around a breakup made you nauseous.

“Why haven’t you done it yet? You can’t keep putting this off forever,” you heard Mitch say one morning after you came home earlier than expected from an in-person work meeting. Usually you wouldn’t eavesdrop, but Justin’s behavior hadn’t exactly given you a vote of confidence in the state of your relationship. You couldn’t even really remember the last time you went on a date without him looking like he was seconds away from getting sick.

Justin on the other hand had spent every dinner date thinking about whether or not this was the moment. Walking around with the ring in his pocket everywhere he went just in case, deathly afraid of you finding it on accident. That thought alone, of him walking in the house to you holding that ring box not only made him want to cry a little at the ruined surprise but also make him feel like throwing up. And he was tired of hearing everyone and their mom ask him when he was going to pull the trigger and propose.

Especially when he felt like it was happening every single day.

“I’m not putting it off! I just—this is harder than I thought. It’s not just something to check off the to-do list. I gotta do it right or I’m not doing it at all.”

He felt so bad about dumping you that he was putting it off…so he could do it the right way? What even is the right way to end a relationship? You didn’t want to stick around to find out, making your way back outside to sit in your car and think about your next move.

“Justin is planning on dumping me.” You sighed into the phone, calling your best friend.

“What? Where did you get that from?”

You spent the next 20 minutes explaining to her all the signs. His weird behavior, always on his phone but will never let you see what he’s doing or who he’s talking to. You feel like he’s hiding something but he makes sure to only give you minor details saying he’s planning a trip with the guys or talking to his agent about taking on different endorsements. It all just seems too fishy. Why is he torturing you like this by stringing you along? Should you just break up with him first?

“You have to act normal like you don’t suspect anything,” you hear at the other end of the line. Her voice is calm and reassuring which is nice because the last thing you needed to hear was that she didn’t believe you. “If he’s breaking up with you then let him explain him himself. Justin has never been someone to do things without a purpose and you know he’d never do anything knowing that it would hurt you.”

She had a point. “Fine. You’re right, I’ll hear him out and figure it out after I gather all the information. Thank you for talking me off the ledge.”

“You’re welcome.” As soon as you hung up the phone, your friend texted Justin that he should start acting a bit more casual because you were freaking out.

The next evening, he surprised you with a bonfire movie night.

“What’s all this?”

Justin pats the spot on the outdoor couch next to him, welcoming you to take a seat. “An apology? I’m sorry I’ve been off lately. There’s been a lot on my mind and I got so lost in my head that I’ve been neglecting you but that stops today. It had nothing to do with how I feel about you at all, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Care to share with the class what was bothering you for so long?”

You cuddle into his side, a sense of comfort immediately taking over the constant state of unease that previously surrounded you. Looking up at him, he places a gentle kiss on your lips, so soft it leaves you wanting more. “It doesn’t matter now, all that I care about,” he sneaks another kiss, “is being right here with you.”

“Well in that case,” you whisper, “we should make s’mores.”

Justin laughs, kissing you on the cheek and rising to his feet, helping you up before heading into the kitchen. The tray on the counter was loaded with various snack items, Reese’s cups, pretzels and strawberries along with normal s’more ingredients. As you made your way back to the bonfire and began to dig in, a thought popped into your mind while enjoying the stillness.

“We can’t do things like this in LA. You can’t beat the scenery out there and the background noise of the traffic isn’t exactly the most romantic.”

He looks up at the sky full of stars, remembering exactly why he bought land out here in the first place. “I’ve always thought about raising our future kids here. Los Angeles is where I work but this is home, they can grow up and be normal kids here. Play outside, go fishing, experience a childhood that has lasting memories. Not sitting in traffic for hours and never seeing a real tree.”

“Our kids?”

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation. “I think about Coach getting our son his first pair of khakis.”

You laugh, picturing it in your head, “and he’d probably get our daughter a custom pair of cleats to wear pregame.”

“Exactly,” he throws his head back to laugh at the image of mini versions of you and him being spoiled by his head coach. He grabs another strawberry, dipping it in the melted chocolate and feeding it to you. “How many kids do you want?”

“Let’s say it at the same time.”

He counts down from five, saying “three” at the same time you do.

Looking at each other in shock, you burst into laughter at the fact that you have identical answers despite the fact that you’d never openly spoken about it. You each knew the other wanted children but just didn’t know exactly how many. Justin felt like his heart might burst with an uncomfortable and overwhelming amount of happiness. If it wasn’t clear then, it is now.

There, in that moment, nothing seemed more perfect. He looked down at your hands, spotting the manicure you’d gotten last week before attending a wedding. Simi’s words came flooding back, you’ll know when the time is right.

And that time was right now.

“I’m gonna head inside and grab another water, do you want anything?”

“I think I’m okay. Thank you though,” you barely acknowledged the exchange, wrapped up in finding the perfect movie to watch as you scrolled through all the streaming services. Today, the most simply normal day was about to be extraordinary and his feet couldn’t carry him inside fast enough to grab the ring.

His heart was beating in his ears walking back outside. He clears his throat to get your attention and the look on his face makes you stand. “What happened?”

“I spent so long trying to create the perfect moment. But I just realized that every moment with you is perfect.”

Your voice catches in your throat and you’re forced to speak in a hushed tone. “What are you doing?”

He takes a deep breath, holding the box firmly in his hand. “I love you. You’re the one I want to build a home with, create a family with, grow old with and everything in between that this life has to offer. I’m sorry it took me so long, that I spent so much time trying to capture some picturesque scene that we’ll remember forever. You and I, right here is memorable. Being with you is all I’ve ever need, all I’ll ever need. For the rest of my life.” He opens the box and you audibly gasp, everything in your body tingling and buzzing with excitement. Everything made sense now, his nerves, the secrecy…everything. He was trying to make all of your dreams come true.

Holding your hand in one and the box in the other, he gets down on one knee. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you respond immediately, sounding out of breath while wiping a tear from your eye. “A thousand times yes, of course I’ll marry you!” Sliding the ring that fits exactly like it was tailored to your finger, he stands up and wraps his arms around you, a small tear escaping him.

Justin kisses you, a passionate deep kiss, relieved that everything had gone even better than he’d imagined, pulling you in so close that you can feel his steady heartbeat. His movements were long and slow, a slight grin against your lips as you give into belonging to each other. Lost in paradise he leaned his forehead against yours, both of your eyes still closed in awe that this actually just happened.

“Here’s to a lifetime of perfect moments and sometimes the best plan is no plan. I love you Justin, this is amazing I couldn’t ask for anything more incredible.” You pulled away, opening your eyes to look at your hand. “And this ring? You’re crazy.”

“I am crazy. Crazy about you,” he kisses you on the forehead, running his hand across your fingers. “I love you so much, fiancée.”

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale loves Crowley but...

(A clickbait title? Me? Possibly)

There's this thought rattling in my brain for a good while and I have to try to get it out.

So most of the fandom seems to operate under the impression that Crowley loves Aziraphale unreservedly (since Eden) and that he is waiting for the angel to catch up with him.

This is evident across metas here, and many posts and comments elsewhere. Even fics (if I'm permitted to say that) keep dancing around the idea that Crowley never knows where he stands. It's not that obvious how Aziraphale feels about Crowley (especially to Crowley). Because Aziraphale is forever denying their connection (as if he didn’t have good enough reason) and/or also that Crowley, who is always open about his feelings, is waiting for Aziraphale to finally admit at some point (sooner than later please) how he feels so they can be together (...I'm not going there today...).

But I did have discussions with people from other countries and cultures. Notably @sayuri-of-the-valley who told me that most people in their country would assume Aziraphale is the smitten one and it's not so obvious how Crowley feels (he might be just toying with the angel?).

So I've been thinking about how Aziraphale feels from what we see.

In Before the Beginning, which is their first encounter, Aziraphale is immediately taken by the sweet, pretty, enthusiastic angel who seems completely oblivious to Aziraphale's hopes to be noticed.

We do not know if they meet again as angels or how long after their meeting the Great War happens. I would think this is not their only encounter. But it could be. I think they became friends and at some later point Angel!Crowley asked Aziraphale to join in the rebellion (or at least come with him to hang out with the guys and find out what it's about). But forever cautious Aziraphale warned him that it's not a good idea and refused and ... Crowley Fell.

Next time they see each other is in Eden.

They seem to recognise each other and Crawley is clearly pretty happy to see Aziraphale who does not introduce himself but Aziraphale gently prompts the demon to introduce himself.

Aziraphale seems a little unsure how they stand at first ... ...and I think it's because of what has transpired before the Fall (is Aziraphale forgiven?). But as Crawley gently teases him about the recently passed events, Aziraphale is assured and trusts Crawley as if nothing much changed between them and he readily admits he's given away his sword to the demon. (The truth of which he does not disclose to God Herself.)

Their relationship progresses as far as it can in the circumstances over the next centuries and millennia, they both care and look after each other. Until the next big heart-breaking 'break-up' happens. An impossible ask.

You can see how this request basically pierces Aziraphale's heart. He would prefer they don't see each other again than give in to such extraordinarily dangerous request. Out of the question! This would mean the end of existence for Crowley. He would not just be discorporated, not 'just' taken away. He'd be gone.

If they truly don't see each other for almost 80 years, this must have hurt so so deeply.

Next they see each other then, it's 1941. I know some people HC that Crowley slept until then but I think it's very unlikely. He seems to know what is happening with WWII, and besides, he has his car, which he says he has from new and you wouldn't buy a 1926 Bentley new in 1940.

So back to the husbands. Aziraphale might very well think he will never be forgiven for his resolute refusal of handing Crowley the one thing that can so easily simply wipe him from existence.

When Crowley shows up in the church, Aziraphale yet again is not sure where he stands. Is he forgiven? What is Crowley coming to do? (No, I don't think Aziraphale thought Crowley was coming with revenge or anything similar, I assume it's as he says, as Aziraphale assumes he's there because of his job, to do something for Hell). But Crowley assures him that is not the case and they fall into their usual bickering.

And all is well. Aziraphale breathes out and THEN Crowley remembers to save his books.

And Aziraphale knows he's forgiven.

When 1967 comes around and he hears about Crowley's frankly insane decision to get some humans to source holy water for him, the angel breaks his own heart and hands Crowley a double walled, securely closed vessel with the dangerous substance just because it's the safer option.

The next break up is...

After that they 'see' each other when Aziraphale's (soul? essence?) discorporated self finds Crowley drinking in the pub.

Crowley tells Aziraphale he lost his best friend... What is Aziraphale thinking?

Yet again, I suppose he's unsure where he stands. He did after all made a decision to do something Crowley disagreed with. And Crowley left. Twice. Aziraphale didn't want to run. He was going to try and find a way to save the Earth even if it meant to try and talk to God and whatever consequences would follow from that.

But Crowley is so gentle with him as he tells him his home burned down. He even has the one book Aziraphale really needed, somehow saved. So Aziraphale asks for help. They can do this.

And they do.

So we see Aziraphale through aeons, looking up to Crowley, admiring his wit, integrity, being exasperated with him, trying to keep him safe - from unreasonable requests just as much as from rash decisions and words that can have severe consequences. Aziraphale is an angel who is unlike any other. He finds himself, long before the rebellion of half the Host is a thing, in knowledge that some things should not be mentioned or suggested or criticised and he tries to stop this lovely angel he just met from getting into trouble.

Which he keeps doing for millions of years...

However. It doesn't always work. The angel Falls. He is hurt and abandoned by the God who made him and deemed unforgivable. He is threatened and punished when he just wants to be himself and Aziraphale sees all of this and loves him and tries to keep him safe and he is not always succeeding, having to make more and more difficult decisions.

And Aziraphale doubts himself. Is he good enough. Is something wrong with him. We see how anxious he gets all the time. What is he doing wrong. They were never allowed to speak to each other about how they feel. For the longest time they didn’t even know how to name their feelings I’m sure. They didn’t make any promises.

They both hope, yes but where I see people HC that Crowley doubts an angel would unconditionally love a demon (maybe he does, but I don’t really see it - I think Crowley knows all that talk of fiends is just a cover), I also see that Aziraphale thinks he’s not good enough. That he can’t give enough and that it’s a problem (it is to some fans but if he’s ever holding back - ‘you go too fast for me Crowley’, it’s only ever to keep the demon safe).

But yes, I think Crowley thinks the chasm that can’t be overcome between them is the angel/demon one. Because She made him unforgivable. And Aziraphale thinks that their world would never allow them to be together (and he’s right) and he simply can’t agree to trying when it’s doomed to failure. If they run, how long would they have together? What kind of freedom would they have as hunted outcasts? So he keeps making these difficult decisions. And feeling so guilty for them.

The hardest of which we meet at the end of Season Two.

Aziraphale meets the Second in Command of the ruler of their world who 'invites' him to run Heaven. After Aziraphale refuses several times, we see him enter his home and tell Crowley that he got an offer and ask Crowley to come with him.

And Crowley. Says no.

And all the subsequent metas focus on how Crowley was betrayed by Aziraphale's 'decision', how Aziraphale does not deserve to be loved or wanted or be forgiven by the demon.

And how does Aziraphale feel?

Does Aziraphale still think he can be forgiven?

[at-wicks-end]

in another life (you still would've turned my head) ; jw

vampire!john wick x reader fluff !! (lowkey a reincarnation au) ~2.5k words

notes: this fic is written for @treedaddymcpuffpuff for the keanuverse secret santa event hosted by @97keanu <333 i hope you like this!!! this is probably the longest thing i've written on this blog 😵‍💫 happy holidays🩷

John cares little for the snow. It’s not that he found it cumbersome or annoying; it’s just that when one has lived for as long as he has, shoveling the snow from the driveway becomes a little too tedious, even for one well-versed in tedious matters. Such was the nature of immortality—given enough time, even the most unique, spectacular experience becomes boring after a century. 

This task becomes herculean (or Sisyphean, John corrects himself) when said driveway was practically a third of the length of his entire estate, which was also in the middle of the woods. His eye twitches at the thought of the snow that would inevitably impede the driving of his beloved Mustang to the nearest town. With a heavy sigh, John casts one longing look at his car, as spotless and as pristine as the day he got it decades ago. He’ll wait for the winter to pass before he brings out his car for a drive. For now, he thinks reluctantly, he’ll walk. He has more than enough time anyway.

It doesn’t take long for him to get ready. All he does is put on his long coat and wrap a scarf around his neck before heading out. He has no need for it, but it’s easier to pretend to need it than to deal with the constant concerned looks from the townspeople as he walks around. It also helped him blend in with the rest of the people walking around, doing some last-minute gift shopping for loved ones at those ridiculously overpriced boutiques. John blows out the candles in the hallways as he walks to the foyer, running a mental checklist of the things he had to put out or turn off before leaving.

Dog—yes, Dog. Comments about his creativity are not welcome—approaches him with a wagging tail, the soft clicks of his claws on the hardwood floors reminding John that he had to trim them again soon. 

“Hello,” John says warmly, squatting down to pet Dog. “You can’t come with me tonight. I’ll be walking, and it’s too cold.”

Dog woofs once, as if to complain.  John chuckles to himself, ruffling his soft fur before straightening himself. “You’ll be fine. I’ve already fed you dinner, haven’t I? I’ll be back later.”

After one last brief round through the manor, John mildly regrets killing the last butler, if only so he had someone else to do the tedious tasks instead. But then again, the last butler turned out to be some vampire hunter wannabe who slipped silver oxide in his tea one night. That gave him quite the sore throat, John thinks bitterly, locking the doors behind him. The poor man was stupid enough to think that a little silver oxide would be able to take him down completely, and didn’t even bother to bring a weapon. Truthfully, it was a bit insulting.

John trudges through the snow, out of his estate and into the woods. It would take him half an hour to get to town, and by then it’ll be almost ten in the evening. The town and its warm lights strung through trees and lampposts will be winding down by then, shop lights shutting off one by one. All the better for him; the fewer humans around him, the safer it was. At almost three centuries of existence, John was already well-versed in resisting temptation, but it didn’t mean he was fond of placing himself in situations where he could potentially snap. 

Behind him, his manor fades into the darkness, looking abandoned and more dilapidated than it truly is. For a moment, John squints at one of the towers. Hm. he’ll have to take a look at the top window sometime soon; it looked to be on the verge of falling apart.

He walks through the forest in silence, with no other sound to accompany him other than the sound of crunching snow beneath his boots and the occasional birdsong. John allows his thoughts to wander, his mind flitting from events that had happened over a decade ago and wondering what he would do a week from now. The year was coming to an end, and Winston no doubt is itching to drag him to the Continental for the Winter Ball.

Yeah, right. John snorts. Invite a bunch of vampires to one place. Never ends well.

The previous year, the D’Antonio siblings caused quite a scene by bringing untrained, unmarked humans into the venue. The younger vamps could barely resist tearing the poor things apart. At the very least, it had provided enough entertainment for the rest of the evening, according to Koji, an old friend of his.

He should probably give him a call this Christmas if only to check in, John muses. And send over a gift for Akira. What does one give to a young vampling these days anyway?

He’s snapped from his reverie at the sound of grumbling. He freezes, straining his ears to understand what the voice is saying.

“...this is so stupid. Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea? God. I’m gonna get eaten by wolves…”

There are no wolves in the area, John can attest to that, but this human seemed lost. And most certainly not a local, if they were out in the woods at night. He purses his lips, turning his head from the direction of the voice to the general direction of the town. He should be close by now, and the blood dealer was likely there already. John could just leave the unknown voice there to fend for themselves and potentially freeze in the dark. 

But what the hell, he thinks. It’s Christmas. This can be his good deed of the year.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he takes a sharp turn to the right and makes his way to the voice. His eyesight meant that the dark of night wasn’t truly dark to him, but he supposes that to a human, this was close to pitch black. It doesn’t take long for him to spot a figure huddled by the root of a tree in the dark, angrily poking at what looked to be their phone. Humans and their smartphones, John sighs internally.

“Hello,” he says slowly, not wanting to scare them. “Are you lost?”

The human flinches, looking up at him with wide eyes. Moonlight shines on their face just so, and John swears his undead heart would be pounding if it still could.

Oh, he thinks, breathless. It’s you.

You really shouldn’t have come here, you think mournfully. Your roommate brought you along with her for the holidays, feeling bad that you were going to be left in the apartment by yourself. It seemed like a good idea at the time, until you got to her hometown and she promptly dropped you off at the local inn and said goodbye for the week. After asking around for fun activities to do (that had nothing to do with the holidays, thank you very much), one of the younger locals suggested geocaching, now that quite a handful of people were developing an interest in it too. He told you to download an app that should explain things better, and you spent the better part of the afternoon looking things up.

This is supposed to be your third spot to check out, but the signal got worse somewhere along the way, and now your phone is dead too. Just your fucking luck. Somewhere, someone must be actively praying for your downfall because what do you mean you’re now stuck in the middle of the woods at night? You groan, angrily poking at the black screen of your phone when a voice calls out to you. 

“Hello. Are you lost?”

It’s a true testament to your strength, your bravery, your iron will, that you did not shit yourself at the sound of the voice. You look up at the tall stranger with wide eyes, noting that holy shit this man is gorgeous and you probably look like you’ve been crawling through all sorts of nooks and crannies all afternoon. Which you have been. So. 

“Hi,” you squeak. Okay. He doesn’t seem like an ax murderer, judging by his nice clothing…? Every bit of information you learned in those true crime podcasts you listen to has flown out of your brain, leaving you looking up at the stranger with your mouth parted.

The tall, dark, and handsome stranger looks at you for a moment before offering you a hand. “The town is that way,” he gestures somewhere to the left. “I’m… John.”

You mumble your name, taking his hand in a daze. Of course, you would meet an absolute Adonis on the worst day of your life (an exaggeration). You try not to swoon at his firm grip, or how he easily pulls you upright without so much as a sharp exhale. Whew. This is a man, you think dreamily, nothing like those slimy finance bros back in the city. Perhaps it’s your turn for a Hallmark movie romance. You, the city slicker with a hatred for the holidays, and this man, the local who’ll teach you the true meaning of Christmas. 

He repeats your name quietly, nodding. “I’m headed to town. We can walk together, if you want.” 

“I’d like that,” you respond, feeling breathless all of a sudden. Get ahold of yourself, you think desperately. You can’t fold for the first hot man that you see in the woods!

Your dreams of a budding romance, are crushed, however, when no further words are exchanged. Stealing glances at John’s (very handsome) side profile does nothing for your flushed cheeks, and his shy smile whenever he catches you staring makes you melt internally. The distant lights of the town coming into view make your heart sink. 

He appears to take pity for your plight and breaks the silence first. “Are you only visiting here?”

“Yeah,” you reply quickly. Too quickly. You swallow thickly, trying to play off your embarrassment. “I mean, yeah, My roommate just brought me along, so…”

“I see.” He nods. “How are you liking this place so far?”

“It’s like a Christmas village,” you say with disdain. The corners of John’s lips quirk up.

“I’m hearing some distaste in your tone.” He notes, amusement in his voice.

You scrunch your nose. “I don’t like Christmas.”

“Oh?”

“I just don’t like it,” you shrug. “You?”

John pauses, thinking for a moment. “I don’t mind it. I don’t think too much of it.”

“Pretty hard to do when it’s so… in your face,” you quip. 

“I’m good at focusing on what truly matters,” he says coolly, his gaze suddenly serious. Your cheeks feel hot again. 

“Oh. That’s nice.” You mumble, looking away, feeling strangely flustered. Are all handsome men just way too intense for their own good? “Are you a, uh, local?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, tilting his head towards you with a small smirk. “A local of the Christmas village.”

“It’s not a bad thing!” You laugh, caught off guard by his sudden teasing. “It’s just not for me, I’m sorry!”

He laughs with you, his deep voice almost melting into the cold winter breeze. Something inside you feels warm at the sight of his smile, and it’s not just because you think this man is hot. He doesn’t feel like a stranger, you think curiously. He feels strangely familiar, as if you’ve known the sound of his laughter for years. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that’s begging you to take his hand, to savor the warmth of his skin against yours and⁠—

“We’re almost there,” he states, looking straight ahead.

Oh. Right.

“Thanks,” you say softly, looking at him. “For helping me back there.”

John only shrugs, his features warmed by the light from the lamppost just straight ahead. “I have a knack for helping strays.” He smiles as if joking. “And I think you’ll find that you have a knack for being in the right place at the right time.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “‘Cause I met you, is that it?”

He gives you that smile again, as if he knows something you don’t. As if you should know what he’s talking about too. It should unnerve you, but it doesn’t. “Something like that.” 

The two of you eventually stop walking just in front of the stall selling mulled wine. “Well, this is me,” you say reluctantly. As charmed as you are by this man, you’ve retained enough of your common sense to not reveal just where exactly you’re staying for now. (If he wants to come up to your room for  a late night something, well… maybe you’re not totally against the idea.) “I’m gonna go walk around before I turn in for the night. You?”

“I’m meeting an acquaintance,” he replies, putting his hands in his pockets. Strange. He isn’t wearing gloves. 

“Good night, John.” You smile, reluctant to leave his side for some godforsaken reason. “I’ll see you around?”

“You will see me around the Christmas village, yes,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Good night, solnishko.”

Little sun. 

How do you know that?

You wave goodbye, dazed, watching as he disappears into the crowd. Your chest aches at the sight of him leaving, but you ignore it, deciding it’s time to turn in for the night after all. It’s been a long day of gallivanting, and getting lost in the woods did no favors for your poor feet. Sighing softly, you imagine the relief of finally taking off these godforsaken boots and warming up by the fire. You’re gonna sleep so good tonight.

Giving one last longing look in the direction John went, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. It’s just because he’s hot, you tell yourself. Yes, that’s just it. Nothing to do with how his voice makes your stomach do somersaults. 

(You will see him again, one way or another. Like John said, you have a knack for being in the right place at the right time, even when you don’t remember him. John only allowed the night to slip from his grasp knowing that the universe will inevitably bring you back to him, as it has many times before.)

(As it will continue to do so, for as long as your soul remembers him even when your mind does not. For now, John is determined to make you fall in love with him all over again until you have to leave.) 

John watches you walk to the local inn from afar, hidden in the shadows. So you hate Christmas this time, he chuckles to himself. That’s alright. So long as you still like him, he can make it work.

He’ll make it work.

post-fic yap: there we go!! i have never actually experienced snow in my life so i'm sorry if it's not super accurate :')) i really wanted to add some more stuff but my health has been in the dumps so i just did my best🥲 again, happy holidays! i hope i did your prompt justice🥹

[rhiannonsknife]

⋆₊❅. — have yourself a merry little christmas

angst & hurt/comfort. secret relationship. gn!reader.

you find shauna by the windowsill, the bright morning light filtering through the frost-covered glass casting soft shadows across her face. her arms are wrapped tightly around herself, her gaze distant as she stares out at the snow-covered woods that surround the cabin. the place is unusually quiet, with most of the others still asleep, their breaths mingling in the cold air.

for a moment, you hesitate. she looks so oddly small, so lost that it stirs something deep inside you: memories of the life you shared back home. you were hers once, in secret: shared kisses in the backseat of her car, fingers brushing during practice, the quiet nights when it was just the two of you. you hadn’t officially ended things when the plane went down, the wilderness had done it for you. between the secrets, the fear, and everything else this place demanded, you’d drifted apart without a word without ever talking things through.

“shauna,” you say softly before you can overthink it, slowly stepping closer. she doesn’t flinch and her eyes flicker toward you.

you sit down beside her, careful to keep enough distance so she doesn’t feel cornered, but close enough that she knows you’re there. “it’s christmas,” you tell her gently, your breath visible in the chill of the cabin as you get straight to the point, half expecting shauna to barely acknowledge it at all.

instead, her brows knit together, a flash of confusion crossing her face. “what?”

“today,” you say again. “it’s december 25th. christmas day!”

shauna blinks, her lips parting slightly as if she’s about to say something, but no words come. “i’ve been keeping track,” you explain, pulling a small, makeshift calendar from your pocket. the paper is torn from scraps you’ve found over the months, but the marks are precise, each day carefully counted. “i didn’t want us to forget. birthdays, holidays, anything important. i just…thought maybe it would help, you know?”

for all the time you’ve spent together back home, shauna feels like a stranger now, just the ghost of the girl you fell in love with.

“you’ve been doing this the whole time?” she asks then, her voice barely above a whisper.

you nod, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the paper. “yeah. i thought it mattered. especially today.”

“christmas,” shauna repeats, the word sounding almost foreign on her tongue, like it belongs to another world entirely.

“it’s still christmas,” you tell her softly, bracing to be met with her usual rejection. “even here,”

to your surprise, shauna turns toward you, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “it doesn’t feel like it,” she admits, her voice trembling. “nothing feels like it used to…”

you heart aches at her words. you remember the way things used to be: the way she’d sneak out to meet you, the way her hand would linger on yours just a second too long when no one was watching too closely. you wonder if she ever thinks about it, or if the wilderness has swallowed those memories whole, the same way it has taken so much else from you both.

“it doesn’t,” you agree quietly, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “but maybe it can still mean something? even if it’s not the same?”

shauna looks down at your hand before she slowly intertwines her fingers with yours. her grip is hesitant at first, but it tightens after a moment.

“we used to talk about christmas,” she says after a long pause. it’s the first time she brings up the way things used to be. you could listen to her for hours if she’d speak of it more often, curl up in the warmth of her voice and the memories of what was before. “back home. what it would be like when…when we didn’t have to sneak around anymore,”

“i remember,” you say quietly. “i remember everything.”

her breath hitches, and for the first time, the walls she’s been holding up seem to crumble. without warning, she leans into you, her head resting on your shoulder, her body trembling with barely restrained sobs. instinctively, likes she’s never left your arms at all, you pull her into your embrace.

“i miss her,” shauna whispers. “i miss jackie i miss home. i miss…everything”

you don’t know what to say to that, so you just wrap your arm around her, holding her closer as her tears soak into your shirt. “i know,” you murmur, your hand gently stroking her hair. “i miss it all too.”

after a moment, shauna pulls back just enough to look up at you, her cheeks flushed and tear streaked. there’s a moment of hesitation, a question lingering, before she finally leans in and presses a trembling kiss to your lips. it’s hesitant at first, but deepens, once you fall back into the way things used to be.

when she pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, her breath warm against your skin. “thank you,” she whispers. “for remembering. for being here”

“always” you promise when shauna falls back into your arms, allowing you to hold her while the others sleep.

i wrote this while being overstimulated at the christmas function, so enjoy 🤗🤗

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 5

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4)

Airenyah is back, bringing you even more rambles about Style Sattawat Chayakorn than ever before. This meta series might just end up becoming my magnum opus.

Alright, here we go. So, in episode 3 we saw Style starting to develop positive feelings for Fadel. He tries to bond with Fadel, tries to engage him in amiable conversations, and also starts to get suspicious of as well as curious about Fadel and his life and develops an interest in learning more about this man and all he's made up of, an interest that is entirely separately from Kant's mission and the deal with the car.

In episode 4 this trend continues and we follow Style as these positive feelings slowly develop into actual, genuine romantic feelings. Style goes from simply just liking Fadel to like liking Fadel.

Now in episode 5 we get to watch Style slowly, yet rapidly fall in love with Fadel as he grapples with the fact that the man he's falling in love with regularly kills people.

And ohhhh boy, what a ride it is. I've written over 12k words for this meta and yet I still feel like there are so many aspects that I still didn't manage to get into or that I only barely scratched the surface of. Not to mention that there are some scenes (especially the first sauna scene) where I feel like every time I watch it, every time I replay the scene I'm getting something else out of it. I swear, the amount of times I've written and rewritten whole sections... No, truly, at this point I feel like I hate more or less everything that I wrote. I apologize in advance for the mess you are about to read. And let me tell you, no matter how detailed you think this meta is? It in no way reflects all my thoughts and feelings that I have about this episode and about my boy Style Sattawat.

Either way, enjoy!

Pronoun Situation: Just assume Fadel and Style use the rude guu/mueng pronouns with each other unless I explicitly state otherwise.

To recap: Style has started to develop genuine feelings for Fadel and is over the moon that Fadel actually agreed to be his boyfriend. His joy is soon punched out of him as he learns of Fadel's real profession. Style unexpectedly meets Fadel at the gym and runs off in a panic, unable to deal with the situation and absolutely terrified.

No. 1: Sauna The Sequel

Let me just say straight away that I'm gonna be looking at this scene running on the assumption that this is happening on the same day as when Style ran away from Fadel at the work-out bench last episode, because Fadel says: "You seem strange today." If the scene from last episode had happened on a different day, I think he would have said "recently" or "these days" or something along those lines instead. Anyway, let's start.

They're at the gym and apparently they both like going to the sauna after a good work-out, because just like in episode 2 they have their next run-in in the sauna after parting at the weightlifting bench. This time it's Style, though, who arrives at the sauna first and he sits there, still in distress, but already a lot calmer than he was at the work-out bench.

When I first watched this scene I was thinking to myself how fun it was to watch Style be very scared of Fadel after we got multiple explicit references of Style decidedly not being scared of Fadel. Now on second look, though, I don't think he's actually as scared as I had first thought. In their last scene together, the scene by the work-out bench, yeah, Style was absolutely terrified and fighting for his life. But instead of a ruthless killer, Style experienced kindness and care, experienced Fadel being a sweet boyfriend. Unable to reconcile these two conflicting perspectives on Fadel, Style made an escape. Now he's sitting in the sauna contemplating everything, trying to figure out how to deal with and/or get out of this mess. Fadel enters the sauna and while Style still looks a little surprised and startled, it doesn't put him into a panic again. As has been pointed out by @secriden and I have also already discussed in my ep4 meta, in episode 4 Style went to the gym during day time, likely in order to avoid Fadel who explicitly mentioned in episode 2 that he prefers to go to the gym at night. But then Fadel shows up anyway and Style, who hadn't been expecting that and as a result hadn't been mentally prepared for a run-in with Fadel, panics completely. Now, however, sitting in the sauna he is well aware that Fadel is around. This might also be a reason as to why Style's heart isn't stopping the way it did back at the work-out bench.

Fadel sits down next to Style and Style moves away, putting more distance between them. What's funny, though, is that despite Style's apparent discomfort at touching Fadel or being anywhere close to him, he still keeps his hand near Fadel, touching him anyway.

[pls scroll back up to the title pic if you wanna see it, i've reached image limit 😭😭😭]

Now we could call that unclean acting, because if Style really is that uncomfortable with the thought of being close to or touching Fadel aka a Known Killer, then he should be making sure to keep each and every single body part away from Fadel, including his hands. Meaning, he should really be yanking that hand away from Fadel. Or what we could do instead, what's even more fun actually, is that we could interpret this as Style not actually being that uncomfortable with the thought of touching Fadel despite his rational mind telling him he should be. His rational mind might be telling him that he should keep his distance from Fadel if he wants to stay alive, but his hand betrays him, exposes his true desire of wanting Fadel anyway. Style is conflicted, but he is not disgusted by Fadel and now after Fadel has been nothing but a sweet boyfriend to him and Style has calmed down a bit from his earlier panic, he also no longer feels as threatened by Fadel's presence and his touch.

Style is still extremely nervous, though, because the knowledge of Fadel killing people is still at the forefront of his mind, but Fadel's presence and Fadel himself don't terrify him as much anymore. This emotional change also shows in his voice: Earlier at the work-out bench he was hesitating to answer every time Fadel said something to him only to hurriedly blurt out his replies a moment later. Now in the sauna, while Style still hesitates and blurts out his answers, they're not as rushed anymore and he's also more talkative again, engages in the conversation more than he did earlier. What's more, at the work-out bench Style barely dared to look at Fadel and when he did look at him, he only threw quick glances at him before turning his eyes away again. In the sauna Style starts out avoiding eye contact with Fadel at first, but as soon as Fadel opens the conversation, Style can (mostly) look him in the eye again.

Fadel calls out Style's uncharacteristic behavior and Style quickly comes up with excuses. Unlike back at the work-out bench, where his voice was full of panic and terror, he now sounds more appeasing, in an attempt to calm Fadel's worries and suspicions. There is a lot of awkwardness when Style claims "I’m fine. I’m just not used to this", there's even a sort of urgency to it like please believe me, please believe me, please stop asking. Fadel stares at him skeptically, so Style elaborates: "It’s usually me running after you, but now you’re with me."

By the way, since I know so many people are liking the Thai language tidbits, this line here:

It’s usually me running after you, but now you’re with me.

More literally is:

Usually I'm after you, but now you're after me. ปกติกูก็ตามมึงแล้วมึงตามกูบ้างแล้วอ่ะ [bpòk-gà-dtì - guu - gôr - dtaam - mueng - láew - mueng - dtaam - guu - bâang - láew - àh] usually - I - follow - you - and - you - follow - I/me - some - already - [particle]

Style actually manages to find his sincerity for this specific lie, but Fadel is already onto him and asks if Style has suddenly changed his mind after all. Style looks away awkwardly, but also lost in thought a little as he thinks about how this is exactly what happened after he found out the truth. It's not like he can just say this, though. Imagine that. Sorry, I don't want you as my boyfriend after all because I don't feel comfortable dating someone who could potentially murder me. And as I mentioned in my ep4 meta, I do think Style is lowkey terrified that Fadel will kill him if Style breaks up with him right after Fadel finally started opening up to him which he knows was a big step for Fadel. But then Fadel says "I don’t mind [breaking up], you know? I don’t like you that much. I’ll get over it." Style looks away, sighs and gets lost in thought. It's a messy situation to be in, even if Fadel won't immediately be killing him over a break-up after all.

When Style fails to answer Fadel stands up in order to leave. This brings life back to Style and he hurriedly holds Fadel back, asking him to wait with the most puppy eyes:

Yeah, I just had to spend one of the only 30 images per post on the puppy eyes, I mean just look at him!!

Anyway, Style looks at Fadel with puppy eyes, and there is so much uncertainty and hesitation and doubt in them. There is also fear, but to me it doesn't look like he's afraid of Fadel specifically, it looks more like he's anxious and worried about the whole situation in general. It looks like Style wants something, but hasn't quite figured out what exactly it is that he wants. He is feeling many emotions at once, has many conflicting feelings at once. When Fadel asks Style if he's sure, I'm struggling so hard to pinpoint/name the many different emotions that Style is feeling in that moment. All I can think of looking at Style's face is: help.

The boy is overwhelmed. He wants to be far away from Fadel, but he also doesn't want him to leave, wants to dump him, but he can't and also kind of maybe deep down perhaps doesn't even really want to, has something on his mind that desperately wants out, but that he must keep inside under any circumstance.

Fadel asks Style if he's intimidated by him and I just wish the English subs had kept the word "scared" just like the Thai lines kept the word กลัว [gluua], because it's such a nice callback to episode 4 where Style enters the greenhouse, yelling "You think I'm scared of you?" (or "But I ain't scared of you!", as the English subs put it). Now Style is getting thrown that question right back at himself. Style has proven time and time again that he isn't scared of Fadel, but this time when he says "I'm not scared of you" it's a lie. Fadel skeptically raises an eyebrow at him. Style comes up with another excuse. "I just can’t believe my persistence actually worked." It definitely is an excuse, but I think that Style is telling the truth here, that he really is surprised that he managed to actually get Fadel to open up to him. I think he truly wasn't expecting it. Now there is also little bit of amusement as he finishes the sentence. As much as he does not want to be around a killer, it doesn't change the fact that he really did enjoy getting on Fadel's nerves. But that little smile fades very quickly as he looks at Fadel in anxious anticipation. And Fadel? Fadel goes with it and throws him a challenge. Style's persistence didn't work. They're on trial. Style still has to put more effort in. Style raises his eyebrows at Fadel like Bitch what did you just say to me????

Fadel did it. He's awakened Style's competitive side. Style completely forgets any qualms he initially had about getting close to Fadel and starts getting handsy with him. But Fadel interrupts Style's seduction and asks to go to Style's garage. However, Style hasn't forgotten about Fadel's secret job enough to happily welcome him home, so he declines. He's definitely horny now, though, and suggests staying in the sauna instead to do the deed and get it over with. As I said in my ep4 meta, Style only gets handsy with Fadel when he's genuinely trying to get into Fadel's pants or under his towel. This is why I think that despite Style's initial apprehensions surrounding Fadel and his secret job, Style absolutely would have hooked-up with Fadel right there and then if Fadel had let him. But Fadel doesn't, he insists on going to the garage instead. Fadel's secret job is fully back on Style's mind again. Style sits back again, sighing as he tenses up again a little. He's clearly not as uncomfortable and nervous around Fadel anymore as he was at the beginning of the scene, but he certainly doesn't feel great about letting a killer into his home. He throws Fadel a look, and I do think Style is a little scared again, but I feel like Style is less scared of Fadel himself and more scared about what might happen if he lets a hitman in, scared not just of what might happen to himself but scared of potentially also putting his dad in danger or giving away any information that could be useful to Fadel in the future in case Fadel does decide to murder him if Style gets too annoying or if Fadel finds out all the secrets Style's been keeping.

Now, guys, let me tell you I spent a whole day writing and thinking about this scene and honestly, I struggled sooo so much. Even as I've finished writing this part I'm still not happy at all with what I put down. There is just so much going on inside of Style and it turned out to be extremely difficult to name and to pinpoint every single emotion because I felt like any time I replayed a shot I was seeing a new aspect and there were so many times where I was feeling an emotion but I just couldn't find the right word to describe it no matter how much I clicked my way through different words and synonyms on Google. But maybe that's kind of the point. Style is feeling many different things, a lot of the emotions that are also contradicting each other, his rational mind is fighting against his heart and it's all so overwhelming in a way you can't really put into words.

No. 2: Date Night

They're on their little go-kart date and Style is having so much fun that he's completely forgotten to be uncomfortable around Fadel, laughing the brightest laughter as he zooms around the track with Fadel. Ever since Style found out that Fadel kills people professionally, Fadel has never once made him feel threatened and unsafe in his actions apart from what was in Style's head at the time. Fadel isn't a ruthless murderer, not to him, not towards Style, and it has Style relax again, has him laugh without any apprehensions. Style is finally able to let go of his worries again and to simply just enjoy the time with his new boyfriend.

A little language note here, this:

It’s just a fluke.

More literally is:

You beat me just this one time. ชนะกูแค่ครั้งเดียวเนี่ย [chá-ná - guu - kaê - kráng - diiao - nîia] beat, defeat - I/me - just, only - time - only, sole - [particle]

Style has let down his defenses so much that he immediately engages in a personal conversation when Fadel starts asking questions and shares without any hesitations. Both we, the audience, as well as Fadel learn that Style lost his mother. This makes me especially happy, because I wrote this in my ep3 meta about the conversation when Fadel drags Style into the storage room:

I do think there's some truth to it when Style says "I have my own problems. You’re not the only one" but whatever problems in life Style currently has (especially if there's anything connected to loss and grief), these problem's really aren't at the forefront of his mind right now.

I had a feeling these lines would come back and that they might be connected to loss, since that's the theme of the support group and at the time of writing I even contemplated the fact there might even be something in Style's past. I almost added a little sentence or two about how if Style also lost someone it has probably been long enough since then that now he's able to be unserious at a group meeting for grief without thinking about it even for a second.

Style brags about winning a competition and Fadel says he knows. The pleased smile is wiped off of Style's face as he suddenly remembers Fadel's real job. Style is starting to feel a little threatened again, a little scared. When he asks "How'd you know that?" it's almost an attack. Fadel shouldn't know this. Why does he know this? Did he do some snooping around? Why would Fadel need to snoop around? Is Style the next target? Does Fadel have a reason to kill him? But Fadel explains he saw it online. Yeah, okay. That makes sense in this day and age. Style lets it go but is still on guard. He doesn't quite trust Fadel.

Fadel continues asking questions. "You said you liked me from the moment you saw me. What did you like about me?" But the thing is, that was a lie. Style did not, in fact, like Fadel from the first time they met. He needs to come up with a believable reason. "I liked the feeling of chasing after you." I do think he genuinely did have fun chasing Fadel, bugging him, which is why he manages to say it with enough sincerity for Fadel to believe it. Style can't fool me, though, because while his words aren't exactly performative like other times when he's being insincere (as discussed in my ep4 meta), his demeanor is still a bit too "loud" for me to fully believe it. Just that one sentence, though, because I absolutely do believe him when he says he likes to win. We literally just saw his behavior when he won their race. Or back in the sauna when he immediately tried to seduce Fadel after Fadel reminded him that they were on trial. Besides, Style likes attention and I'm sure coming out first place in a competition gives him plenty of attention. And as he says, it gives him adrenaline so he's also just having plain fun with it. Fadel is amused and asks "So you only hit on me for the thrill of it?" Style feels called out, because he did hit on Fadel for ulterior motives. Style can't exactly admit that, though, so he quickly deflects: "It's not like that. I like how you look, too." Style then lists more reasons why he's interested in Fadel and I think that what he says next is 100% true: "I like that you’re so different from me. It’s an opportunity to learn, and it’s an experience, you know?" I think this is something he started appreciating about Fadel at the latest over the course of episode 3 where he started to get more interested about Fadel and his lore.

One thing I want to point out: There is less space between them by the end of the scene than there was by the end of the scene. They got closer throughout the scene, not just in the literal sense as in closer with their bodies but also figuratively they got closer in their relationship. It's as Style said: they can get to know each other when they are boyfriends. And getting to know each other is exactly what they're doing here, and they will get to know each other even more as the episode progresses.

Style might be a competitive guy, but the thing is, so is Fadel. Which we, of course, are already well aware of. After all, we did just watch these two have stand-offs with neither of them willing to back down for 4 episodes straight gay. But Fadel lets him know anyway: "The game isn’t over. A guy like me doesn’t know how to accept defeat." It's a threat, but not a dangerous one, no, it's more of a flirty challenge. At the same time, Fadel is being 100% serious when he warns that he won't accept defeat. It's like he's saying No matter how hard you try to fully win me over, I'll never open up to you completely. They'll come back to this topic again later in the episode, when Fadel tells Style he's at 80%.

Fadel drives off and Style watches him pensively. I think by now he's really lost his (immediate) fear about Fadel working as a hitman. I find his expression in this shot here especially interesting:

He look sad more than anything. He was already starting to like Fadel in the previous episode (here are the receipts), but now that he's starting to spend more time with Fadel where Fadel is not just constantly pushing him away and putting him down but is actively engaging with him and they're having serious conversations, now Style is really starting to like him. But unfortunately the situation had to get super messed up and there doesn't seem a way to get out of it that doesn't end in hurt or pain. And unfortunately, he can't exactly talk about his problems with his new boyfriend either. But the show must go on. Life must go on. Because life never stops. So Style gets on his feet, hypes himself up a little, and gets into his go-kart to follow Fadel.

No. 3: Choices Were Made

Where earlier in the sauna Style tensed up at the thought of taking Fadel to his place, after their happy little go-kart date all those fears and worries that Style had had initially went right out of the window. Fadel has been nothing but nice and sweet to him and Style has by now realized he's got nothing to be afraid of. Fadel is not a danger to him specifically (yet?).

Fadel starts asking more questions and we, together with Fadel learn more about Style's relationship with his dad. We also learn that Style likes to choose his own partners himself. This is in line with what I said in my ep3 meta:

For Style, sex isn't just sex and I think as impulsive as he can be he still makes very deliberate decisions about who he actually sleeps with.

Now I'm thinking this extends to who he actually dates, too. Style wants to make the choice of who he is with himself. Which is kinda ironic, considering he himself didn't actually choose Fadel. Unless you count Style's choice to agree to Kant's deal. But Fadel has no idea about any of this. So he walks up to Style, hugs him and asks "And you chose me?" Ah, well, no. Not exactly. Style doesn't answer Fadel's question but instead goes "You wanna do it here?"

Honestly, even though Style's question was probably a convenient way of getting out of having to answer Fadel's question, I think Style's had this question on his mind from the second he felt Fadel's arms around him. After all Fadel did suggest going to the garage instead when Style tried to seduce him in the sauna and I'm sure Style had a flashback to that when Fadel went and hugged him.

Pronoun side note: Fadel changes from the rude guu pronoun to the polite phom pronoun in their little role play when he says "My car broke down." They don't use any pronouns for the rest of their exchange.

Now this is the first time they're having sex as official boyfriends and while in a way the scene is similar to the scene in the storage room, it's also very different. Just like in the storage room, Fadel is the one to initiate the kissing and Fadel is the one taking off Style's shirt (or at least one layer of it, that we see). While the tempo in the storage room was fast and rushed, Fadel now takes his time and everything he does is much more deliberate. Fadel is now actively enjoying what he is doing, lets himself enjoy it. And just like in the storage room, Style lets Fadel control the situation while he waits to see where this is going (it leads to role play, apparently). And yet, Style isn't passive the way he was in the storage room, no, this time they are on a much more equal level. This time it's much more of a mutual conversation. We see this in their little role play where Style actively engages (a dialogue requires two people or else it'd be a monologue) and the way Style also initiates a kiss instead of letting Fadel do all the work himself. Style is no longer a passive part in this. He actively teases Fadel from the start by not properly kissing him back right away and also actively seeks out Fadel's vicinity and physical touch. We see it in the way he actively nuzzle's into Fadel's shoulder:

They are both enjoying this, and they are also actively letting themselves enjoy it. Together.

The lighting is also starting to change: in the storage room, everything was blue and cold. In the greenhouse, there is less light in the scene in general, and while the light that is there is still blue, the darkness gives off a feeling of protection. They can confess to their mutual budding feelings in the safety of the shadows, hidden away where no one can see them. Now in the garage, there is still so much blue going on in addition to bright white lights from inside the shelves. They are still surrounded by the cold, but they themselves are bathed in yellow and red light.

They are slowly making progress, slowly coming out of the cold, distant lighting, slowly stepping into the warmth. However, they still have a way to go.

No. 4: Sharing Is Caring

Side note, since I was just talking about the lighting: I can't help but notice how the cold white light that was inside the shelves earlier is now much less prominent right next to Fadel. Instead we get yellow and red car parts. Fadel is sitting right by the warmth (the warmth that Style was giving him in this scene, perhaps?).

Where in the go-kart date scene Fadel was the one asking all the personal questions, here in the garage it's now Style's turn. And Style finally asks about the scar and I'm glad we're starting to talk about it because I've been dying to know. Fadel says it was an accident and Style wants to know the details. Fadel says it's an occupational hazard, which, gee thanks I could have guessed as much. And I'm sure so could Style. Fadel in addition also asks why Style would want to know that and Style says "I want to know more about you." Style was already starting to care last episode, but back then what he cared about was mostly Fadel's actions and how they affected him himself and his feelings. We could even go as far back as episode 3 and say that Style was starting to get curious about Fadel and his story all the way back then, even. This time it's different, though. This time it's not that he wants to know just to satisfy his curiosity about this strange, closed-off man or because he doesn't like "being kept in the dark". This time it's not that he cares because of how Fadel and his words/actions directly affect Style himself. No, this time he genuinely wants to get to know Fadel better. He cares because he is starting to worry about him. This time it's not all about Style himself, but this time it's all about Fadel instead.

Style is starting to care, is starting to care so much about Fadel himself now. But unlike Style, Fadel doesn't voluntarily give up information about himself, which Style notes and then asks more questions: "Why do you go [to the Rise Up group]?" Fadel doesn't say a word and Style doesn't pressure him any further. He stays quiet, watches Fadel, and patiently waits for him to come to a decision. A full 10 seconds later Fadel does share: "I lost my parents." Style stares at him in shock. He hadn't been expecting that. But this is something he can relate to, even if he lost just one parent and not both of them. Style offers Fadel a metaphorical shoulder to cry on, creates a safe space for Fadel in which he invites him to share more details. Once again Style doesn't pressure Fadel, he just looks at Fadel encouragingly but leaves the choice to share entirely up to him. This time it takes Fadel 13 seconds to respond, but respond he does: "My parents were murdered."

Fun fact, Style is actually fully aware that Fadel's parents were murdered by gunshot specifically because Fadel explicitly tells him:

พ่อแม่กูโดนยิงตายเนี่ย [pôr-mâe - guu - dohn ying dtaai - niîa] parents - I/my - be shot to death - [particle]

When Style hears this he realizes two things:

Fadel has fucked up trauma.

This is a conversation he probably shouldn't have started, a topic he probably shouldn't have brought up.

The conversation took an unexpected dark turn and Style doesn't want to pressure Fadel any further, so he is quick to change the topic to something more bright. "You had any lovers before?" Love can't be too heavy of a topic, right? Right?? But we saw the flashbacks of Fadel dancing with someone in episode 3. And we heard Keen make a reference to someone important in Fadel's life who suddenly disappeared. Speaking of...

Remember how in my ep3 meta I was wondering if Style had heard that specific comment since we weren't shown the exact point of Style walking in on them? I guess now have confirmation that Style did not in fact hear that comment. Unless of course Style asked that specific question to subtly try and find out more backstory on that too (Oh god, Style, how I am begging you keep asking! I too need to know!!). Although, the way he was rushing to change the topic to something happier didn't seem like he was thinking too hard about his question. But then again, he did also tilt his head a little when Fadel said no, he doesn't have an ex, and I can't tell if Style tilts his head because he really has no idea and simply just doesn't believe that a guy like Fadel has never dated anyone or if he tilts his head because he knows Fadel is lying. Aghhh, gdi, I'm still none the wiser.

Anyway, so Fadel says no (bro. my dude. who was that man in the flashback, then 🤨) and explains "My life isn’t exactly easy. I don’t want to drag anyone along with me."

Actually, for the second sentence he really says:

And besides, I also don't want to cause trouble to anyone. แล้วอีกอย่างกูไม่อยากทำให้ใครเดือดร้อนด้วย [láew - ìig yàang - guu - mâi - yâak - tam hâi - krai - dèuuat rón - dûuay] and - one more thing - i - not - want - to cause - anyone - be in trouble - also

Style blinks. He cracks just the tiniest and briefest smile.

(In case you don't see it, here have a slowed down version of just the grin. Check the corner of his mouth: )

Hah. Got him. "Is owning a burger joint so difficult that you can’t date?"

I wasn't sure before if Style knew what he was doing when he asked the ex-lover question, but with this question now he definitely knows exactly what he's doing. Fadel comes up with a reply, but his word choice is still sus, so Style asks a follow-up question. Personally, I think that Style started asking question in the hopes of Fadel accidentally spilling the truth himself. Because if that happened, then that would be at least one secret off Style's back. He wouldn't have to pretend to Not Know and it would probably also lessen his anxieties about Fadel's occupation because at least he would also be able to openly talk about it and his fears with him. I think at this point Style has fully realized that Fadel isn't killing him any time soon, that his own life isn't in immediate danger just because he hangs out with Fadel and does things that boyfriends do with him. He is back to being as fearless as he was before The Reveal.

So Style asks a follow-up question, hoping that maybe Fadel will slip-up even more. But Fadel comes up with a bullshit story and Style just listens to it, nodding like yeah sure whatever you say baby. It quickly becomes clear to him that he won't be getting the truth out of Fadel's mouth for now. I feel like I haven't seen enough of the story yet to really confirm this for myself, but I wonder if during this conversation Style also realizes (or at least starts to suspect) that deep down Fadel isn't actually too fond of his killer job. Because when Style says "Maybe you just need to find something else to do. Do something that allows you to love without risking your loved ones." it just sounds too much like what he's ACTUALLY saying is:

Well, if you don't like being a "burger joint owner" (assassin), if being a "burger joint owner" (assassin) is making your life THAT difficult and depressing, then why don't you just quit being a "burger joint owner" (assassin) and find a new job that makes you happier and your life easier? Perhaps even a job where you don't have to worry about me your loved ones being safe?

After this deep talk where Fadel finally opens up to him about personal things, Style's panic has vanished completely. Instead, it has all been replaced with worry, worry about Fadel and his well-being specifically. And Style is also well aware of this development as we'll see later in the episode when Style tells Kant "I'm beginning to worry about him now." Style is still scared for his own life, but now it's not because he's terrified about Fadel killing him but more so because he doesn't want to become collateral damage if (when) he stays in a relationship with Fadel. I think this is another subtext of when Style says "Do something that allows you to love without risking your loved ones". He's not just making it about Fadel and his loved ones but he's also specifically referring to his own safety, too. Do something that allows you to be with me specifically where I don't have to worry about my own safety and potential death.

Style smiles innocently and cutely at Fadel (and I cry bc that exact smile is Dunk's inner Daonuea coming out) but before the conversation can go any further or they can get any cuter, Kant interrupts. Fadel is irritated and Kant's unexpected visit is an inconvenience to Style too, but Kant has some pressing matters to discuss, so they walk off to discuss them in private.

No. 5: Conflicted

Kant is in panic because Bison seems to be going ballistic on Kant's old hook-up with murder being a potential outcome. This has Style very concerned. He doesn't really care about Kant's old hook-up but he is very worried about his best friend. As much as Style likes helping people and as loyal of a friend he is, he really doesn't wanna help if helping Kant means Kant's potential death. Kant tries to talk Style into helping anyway, but Style is done: "I had nothing to do with this. You dragged me along." Style is very much not cool with having been involved in this without his consent. And now he's got another problem that makes the whole situation even more tricky for him:

By the way, I have a bad feeling about Fadel. He scares me. But I like his rough romantic side.

And at this point I really need to share Style's actual words:

And another thing, I don't know how I feel about Fadel. แล้วอีกอย่างนะกูรู้สึกยังไงกับไอ้ฟาเดลก็ไม่รู้ว่ะ [láew - ìig yàang - ná - guu - rúu-sèuk - yang-ngai - gàp - âi - Fadel - gôr - mâi - rúu - wâ] and - one more thing - [particle] - I - feel - how - with - [rude prefix] - Fadel - not - know - [particle]

He makes me feel scared. มันทำให้กูรู้สึกกลัว [man - tam hâi - guu - rúu-sèuk - gluua] he - to cause - I - feel - scared, fear

But I like his rough romantic side. แต่กูชอบมุมโรแมนติกเถื่อนๆของมันเว้ย [dtàe - guu - chôp - mum - roh-maen-dtìk - tèuuan tèuuan - kŏng man - wóiie] but - I - like - angle - romantic - rough - (of) his - [particle]

I put all of Style's lines mostly for completion, but really the language note is mostly about the very first line. Style doesn't say he has a bad feeling about Fadel, no, he says he feels conflicted about Fadel. Because on the one hand he's scared and on the other hand he really also likes him. When Style says Fadel makes him feel scared, I don't quite believe him, because apart from the sauna and that one short moment at the go-kart track absolutely nothing in his behavior has screamed I am scared, on the contrary. I think this is his rational mind telling him that logically he should be scared because Fadel fucking kills people fighting against his heart that is slowly getting to know the Fadel that's behind those thick high walls and that realizes that Fadel isn't that bad of a person after all. What's more, ever since they started dating, none of Fadel's actions or behaviors have put Style into immediate danger. In fact, Fadel has been nothing but a sweet, hot boyfriend to him. Style doesn't know how to feel about Fadel, because he's getting conflicting messages and can't figure out whether he should best follow his mind or his heart.

But Kant currently doesn't have time for Style's love life. Someone else's life is potentially at stake. So Kant responds: "This ain’t no time to confess your weird feelings." Or what he actually says is:

This is not the time to confess your love. ไม่ใช่เวลามาสารภาพรักไงล่ะ [mâi châi - weh-la - ma - săa-rá-pâap - rák - ngai - lâ] not - time - come - confess - love - [particle] - [particle]

I just wanted to note that Kant says nothing about "weird": Kant is not being judgy about Style's feelings specifically, he's only judgy about Style's sense of timing. Okay, carry on.

Anyway, Kant suggests asking Fadel for help.

No. 6: Boyfriend Card

Fadel, predictably, is not happy about this turn of events. But Style is now helping his friend after all, and so he pulls the boyfriend card: "You’re my boyfriend, you know? If you like me at all, you have to help my friend." It works. Fadel agrees to help. Kant calls him "Brother-in-Law". Style is very hyped at Kant's sass and praises him. Fadel chats with Bison on the phone and learns enough info for Kant to know exactly where Bison is at. Kant runs off. Style watches him leave wide-eyed, then turns to Fadel and excitedly goes "Wow. I hope you’re not the jealous type like your brother is." Fadel tells him "If you mean well, then you have nothing to worry about." But then he also speaks out a warning:

But if you’re just leading me on, or trying to get something out of me, you’re in for some serious bruises.

Dare I say this is foreshadowing for when Fadel finds out about the real reason why Style was hitting on him? And I have a feeling Style gets that memo too. Uncharacteristically, he stays quiet.

Pronoun side note: Kant uses the polite phom/khun pronouns for Fadel while Fadel uses the rude guu/mueng pronouns for Kant and I think that's hilarious, actually.

No. 7: Falling

Kant updates Style on the James situation but Style stays optimistic. Kant really doesn't share this view and reminds him that Bison is a hitman. Style gets stressed and also a bit irritated at Kant and shoots a reminder back: "I was sleeping with his brother last night all because you asked me to, didn’t I?" (he says, as if Kant ordered him to hook up with Fadel in the garage 🤭) Style hates that he is in this mess when he never even asked to be in this mess in the first place.

Kant says he doesn't want anyone else risking their lives (bro. maybe you should have thought of that before you got your bestie involved or at least asked him for his consent, don't you think 🤨) and that he has to get this job done. Style looks downwards, troubled and in thought. He sits down and it's time for another confession:

Come to think of it. How would I even get through this? I compromised my whole body, and if we’re being honest, I’ve already compromised half of my heart, too. I’m beginning to worry about him now.

This has Kant alarmed. "Don’t fall in love with him at all costs." But it's already too late. Style is already falling, and he's falling fast. And deep down he knows it, too.

Style points out that Kant isn't exactly doing any better either. Kant sighs and says he wants to end things quickly and then foretells what their happy ending is going to be: "Once those two get arrested, we walk free."

But Style stares gloomily into the air and gives a near invisible head shake, almost as if he disagrees with Kant's words, as if to say But that's not what MY happy ending looks like.

Then he stands up swearing and says: "Hope it ends before either one of us kicks the bucket. I shouldn’t have put my heart on the line for this." He wants to get out of that mess asap and preferably alive (and with his heart fully intact). Kant has another mission for him.

No. 8: Can I Have This Dance

Yeah no I don't have anything to say about this scene except: this is a boy in love.

And also, not to brag but @titkos--sideblog and I called the butt grab(s) before the show had even started airing, including the exact episode number (episode 4 counts too because we did get the one wide shot in the greenhouse with Fadel's hands on Style's ass!!):

Okay, no, I lied. Now that I'm done awww-ing about how fucking cute this whole scene is, I do have something to say after all:

Once again, there is not a single ounce of fear anywhere to be found in Style, no matter how stressed he gets whenever Kant brings up that Fadel and Bison are hitmen. On the contrary, Style is completely at ease. He's shamelessly teasing Fadel, shamelessly flirting with him, and also being silly without a second thought. I was actually talking to @secriden in our DMs and I just wanted to share something she said to me because she really hit the nail on the head:

[Style] makes it clear that he wants Fadel to participate and frames his case as being about his need for an "F" for his "S" so the 'embarrassing cheesiness' is all on Style's behest. When he makes Fadel dance with him, he reminds Fadel that he's already seen a far more embarrassing dance and found it incredibly hot and then starts being overthetop and ridiculous so that even if Fadel starts dancing with him its not going to be more embarrassing and silly than what Style is doing.

I absolutely agree. This whole scene is Style trying his best to get Fadel out of his shell, to get Fadel to loosen up a little. We've already seen Style attempting to do this in episode 2 when he shows up in Fadel's kitchen with an order and pretends to be a commentator on a cooking competition or in episode 3 at the heavy metal bar when he invites Fadel to dance with him, to scream and to basically let loose with him. Except back then Fadel stubbornly refused to engage. Where Style failed in episode 3, he now as Fadel's official boyfriend succeeds. This time around Fadel does dance with Style, albeit tentatively, and even ends up having a little bit of fun.

No. 9: Percentages

They're sitting at the table watching Kant and Bison be cute and Style makes a comment about how they look good together. Fadel informs him that even if he tolerates Kant now, he still doesn't trust him and Style squints his eyes a little at him in a way that I can't find the proper words to describe.

It's almost inquisitive. Style knows full well that Kant absolutely has ulterior motives, more ulterior motives even than Style himself has. Style knows full well that Fadel absolutely has legitimate reasons to distrust Kant, knows exactly that Fadel's bad feeling about Kant is entirely on point. The way Style squints at him looks as though he's curious about why Fadel doesn't trust Kant. What is Kant doing, what in Kant's behavior is giving it away that Kant's not exactly trustworthy?

Fadel elaborates that a guy like him doesn’t go trusting someone 100%. Style looks almost a little guilty when he looks down at table for a moment as he goes "Oh?" Then he asks "Not even me?" and it's just a little bit too "loud" again to be entirely genuine. Style knows exactly that he doesn't really deserve Fadel's full trust because he, too, is hiding secrets from Fadel. And I think he tries to play it off and deflect from it in an Whaaat, you don't even fully trust ME, your very own BOYFRIEND? When CLEARLY as your boyfriend I am entitled to 100% of your trust? sort of way. But Fadel didn't come to play around. He retaliates with "You’re at 80% at best." Which, by the way, in Thai goes something like:

Someone like you? Only gets 80. อย่างมึงนะได้แค่80 [yàang - mueng - ná - dâai - kâe - bpàet sìp] like - you - [particle] - receive - only - 80

Style throws him a look that again I find really hard to describe:

He looks a bit judgmental that Fadel really dared to be this harsh to his very own boyfriend, but at the same time he knows that Fadel is absolutely spot on with that judgment. And I think he is also kind of disappointed, because he does very much want those full 100%.

More serious now, Fadel continues: "I feel like you’re hiding something from me in the rest 20%". From the tone of Style's voice when he says "What are you talking about?" I feel like this isn't at all about him deflecting Fadel's completely spot on statement but more about Style complaining that Fadel won't play along properly. Style is frustrated, but almost in a pouty way. When he asks "What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?" I think it's still part of the little game that he's started, but now there is a sort of urgency to his voice that exposes him. Style needs an answer to this question, because it's important for him to get those 100%. Style really wants Fadel to be able to fully trust him. Style might still be keeping secrets from Fadel but nevertheless he wants to do everything he can to "be worthy of Fadel's trust" (words stolen from @secriden's meta), despite the lies he has to keep up for now. What's more, Style went all in the moment he and Fadel became official and the "all in" includes trust as well. It's either all or nothing for Style.

Fadel doesn't answer immediately. Similarly to their deep talk in the garage, Style patiently waits for Fadel to speak rather than to press him for an answer. And 7 seconds later Fadel drops: "It'll never happen."

So far this conversation has been mostly lighthearted but at this point the mood suddenly changes. Fadel announces there will never be a day where he'll fully trust Style and Style sighs, a little dejected.

No matter how hard Style tries, there will never be a day where he'll be able to make up for all the secrets he's been keeping and for all the lies he has to tell, all the lies he's already told, and all the lies he'll be forced to tell in the future. Because let's be real, at this point? Style is keeping up the charades mostly for the sake of Kant (and maybe a little bit for the sake of his own safety). As many people have already pointed out, Style is the type of person where what you see is what you get. And I think Style struggles with the fact that he can't be fully honest with Fadel. And he knows it's going to hurt both of them when Fadel finds out that he was right in not fully trusting Style. And there is nothing he can do about it, no matter how much he tries to be as open and transparent with Fadel as possible to soften the blow.

Fadel elaborates and as Style listens to Fadel's explanation, the good mood that was there on Style's face earlier is replaced by a very serious expression.

I think he's probably wondering where Fadel got this outlook on life from. By now Style has learned that Fadel has gone through quite some shit in his time. I think he realizes that there's a chance that Fadel's distrust in people is connected to another "My parents were shot" story or that it could also be connected to Fadel's scar. This interpretation gets pretty much confirmed at the end of the episode, when Style tells Fadel that he'll be his 100% one day and goes to kiss Fadel's scar immediately after, as if to say I know whatever scarred you took away your ability to trust people but I'll be the one to do you right.

The conversation is taking a heavy turn, but the bar is no place to discuss such topics, so Style dismisses Fadel's words and changes the topic like he did back at the garage. He invites Fadel to come on stage and sing. Fadel refuses. Style reminds him that there is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about since there's only drunk people here, but Fadel still doesn't want to. Style pulls him on stage anyway and whipped boyfriend that he is, Fadel follows him after all and engages in the social interaction.

But then Kant gets a phone call and suddenly has to run. I absolutely cannot tell if Style is fully aware of what Kant is planning to do or not. In their last one on one scene, Kant announced that he had a plan, but didn't exactly elaborate on it, just told Style to make sure Fadel stayed by his side the entire time. Of course Kant might have told him off-screen, but there is also a chance that Style only knows as much as the audience knows. Either way, Style doesn't feel great about it. When Style asks if he should come too, his voice might just be the most serious and worried we've ever heard it throughout the series so far. But Kant refuses and runs off by himself. Fadel walks over to Bison to make a comment to him while Style stands behind them, looking worried. When he sits at the table with Fadel and Bison later waiting for Kant he is uncharacteristically quiet and still, except for that one time where he tries to get Bison to stay a little longer. But when that doesn't work he just sits there and stares at Bison wordlessly. Even Style's aura is suddenly very quiet.

Pronoun side note: When they met in episode 2, Style and Bison where using the polite khun/phom with each other. In this scene all three of them were using only the rude guu/mueng pronouns when talking to each other.

No. 10: Look They've Made It Onto A Bed

Okay, so this is gonna mess with my usual formatting of going chronologically, but please bear with me as I take a look at the actual sex before I get into the dialogue.

Everything about this is warm, so warm and soft with the red/yellow/orange tones and they've finally made it onto a bed. I've seen posts joking about getting them a bed for the sake of their backs, but I think it was a very deliberate choice that up until now they were never anywhere near a bed. Your bed is one of the most intimate places you have, it's where you sleep and are at your most vulnerable to outside danger. Up until now, Fadel and Style couldn't be on a bed yet, their relationship wasn't ready for that yet. And I think it's so significant that the first time they are sleeping with each other on an actual bed happens after Style knows the truth about Fadel. It's such a stark contrast to the beginning of the episode where Style asked to hook up in a public sauna and get it over with because he was just so very uncomfortable about bringing Fadel home. But now at the end of the episode Fadel is right here in Style's bed. Style knows the truth, knows Fadel kills people and he still brought him into his home, his own room, his very own bed. Style knows the truth and yet Style has fully let Fadel into his life. (Like, 100% you could say...)

This scene also parallels the storage room hook-up, but now the places are switched. In fact, this scene is the complete opposite of everything that happened in the storage room. Let's take a look.

As many people pointed out after episode 3, Fadel was more or less worshiping Style's body back then. Now it's Style's turn to worship Fadel's body. Back in the storage room, everything was rushed because Fadel was running on anger and sexual frustration. Style now in turn moves very slowly and everything he does, he does very deliberately and with intention. There is so much tenderness and care in every single one of Style's touches. Where the storage room sex was first and foremost led by anger, mutual annoyance, and physical attraction, instead it is now led by love and the emotional bond that they've started to build up over the episode. Actually, @secriden has written a beautiful post comparing these two scenes with each other.

If you remember, @clemelntine noted what we can learn about Style's and Fadel's desires in their respective fantasies. In my ep3 and my ep4 meta I added on to this thought and discussed at length how in Style's fantasy he barely stopped searching for eye contact and how the emotional component was very important to Style and how he was getting next to no eye contact in the storage room scene (where emotionally they weren't on the same page at all) and how he was slowly getting more of it in the greenhouse (where they were finally starting to come together emotionally). Now in Style's bed? Style finally gets what he desires. Fadel barely stops looking at him, hardly ever takes his eyes off of him. He even lifts his head to watch Style as he moves to kiss Fadel's scar or to kiss his upper body a little later on.

Of course, for Fadel specifically part of that is also because he is still on guard around Style, can't fully let go yet, can't fully trust Style yet (more on the topic of trust in a bit). Which is why it's so beautiful that when Fadel does take his eyes off of Style it's when he finally lets himself fall into it a little. Fadel may break eye contact, but it's not because he's avoiding Style's eyes and closing himself off again, no, it's because Fadel is finally starting to let go a little, is giving up just a little bit of control to Style, letting him do as he pleases the way Style has let Fadel do as he pleased back in the storage room.

I also find it interesting that there is no background music at all throughout the entire scene (that is from the moment Style takes his shirt off right at the beginning before the dialogue even starts) because it makes the scene feel even more intimate and raw, almost as if we, the audience, shouldn't even be here. In the storage room, in the woods, and in the garage, every single time there was music playing while they were going at it. This here in the bedroom is the most intimate sex they've had so far, and it is stripped bare of any background music (remember the word "bare", it will come back later). There are no distractions, that is no music to hide behind, it's just them and their feelings on full display. Here in Style's own room, Style is laying himself bare for Fadel completely and this is underlined by the lack of music. The music won't come back until the end to lead us into the end credits, and when the music does come back, it's none other than Style's, I mean Dunk's OST song for the show.

No. 11: Bare Bodies and Open Hearts

Now that we've looked at the sex itself, let's take examine the dialogue and the context in which the sex scene is happening in.

The double date night is over and I'm assuming Kant probably texted Style telling him he was all good, because considering how concerned we left Style last time we saw him, I think he would have had his mind somewhere else most of the time during this scene rather than focusing entirely on Fadel if he didn't know his best friend was safe. Anyway. I'm just gonna run with that this is what happened and that's why Style is all relaxed and without worries again.

Actually, before I get into anything else I wanna talk about these specific lines because both the English translation as well as the original Thai lines have me insane for different reasons:

F: Like I said, no one can truly lay themselves bare for someone. [...] S: Will you lay yourself bare for me?

Let's start with what has me insane about the Thai lines first. But first a little recap: In my ep3 meta and my ep4 meta I mentioned the word เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai]. If you're new here or simply just forgot, this is a word that means something like "open up to something/someone" or "giving something a chance". This word consists of the words "(to) open" (เปิด [bpèrt]) and "heart, mind" (ใจ [jai]), so literally translated it makes "to open one's heart".

Now, Style was using this word in episode 3 after Fadel presented him with a burger when he asked "Are you finally folding?" (literally: "You've opened your heart to me now, right?"). If we remember, the burger was the first time Fadel reached out to Style first and did something nice for him (unless we count Fadel dropping off the car at Style's garage in ep1, although that only came about as a consequence of the crash, or there was also that time Fadel ambushed Style in the locker room, but he didn't exactly have nice intentions about it). Anyway, that was the first time Fadel was properly connecting with Style in a friendly way and of his own accord, a significant moment.

In episode 4 we get this word again during the "be my boyfriend" conversation when Style says "I’m 100% in. It’s your turn to let me in a little bit" (literally: "I've opened my heart to you 100% already. Only you remain. How much will you open your heart to me?") Again, this is a significant moment, because right after those lines is when Fadel finally agrees to be Style's boyfriend.

And in both scenes I just really really liked the image of Fadel, who has closed off his heart so deeply and securely behind thick high walls, being asked to open up the way to his heart.

Right now you're probably assuming that in Thai they're using the word เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai] again. No. Actually, they are not. But!! They are using the word เปิด [bpèrt] and I think it works enough for a callback to that imagery and specifically to those lines from the "be my boyfriend" scene:

F: Like I said, we aren't 100% open with others. อย่างที่กูบอกอ่ะ คนเราไม่เปิดกับคนอื่น 100% หรอก [yàang - tîi - guu - bòk - àh • kon rao - mâi - bpèrt - gàp - kon èun - rói bper-sen -ròk] way - that - I - say - [particle] • people, we - not - open - with - others - 100% - [particle] [...] S: Can you open up for me? มึงเปิดให้กู้ได้มั้ยล่ะ [mueng - bpèrt - hâi - guu - dâai - mái - lâ] you - open - for - I/me - be able to - ? - [particle]

And it just makes me a little bit insane for multiple reasons: first of all, we continue with that imagery, that theme of Fadel opening up to Style. And second of all, there's also been a running theme about percentages. The theme of opening up and the theme of percentages are tightly connected:

It starts in the "be my boyfriend" scene where Style tells Fadel "I've opened my heart to you 100% already." All the doors to Style's heart are wide open for Fadel to enter as he pleases. But at the time Fadel's heart is still closed to Style. So Style tells him that it's Fadel's turn now and asks him: "How much will you open your heart to me?" How many doors to his heart will Fadel open for Style? What is the percentage of his heart that Fadel is willing to grant Style access to?

And then earlier in the scene at the bar Fadel says "Someone like you only gets 80%". Somehow this feels kind of like an answer to Style's question of "How much will you open your heart to me?" And yes, the conversation at the bar is about trust and not their hearts, but Style made it about their relationship when he asked "Not even me? (Not even your boyfriend?)" and Fadel also brings up love later when he says "No matter how much you love someone". The heart is also involved in a relationship. And what kind of relationship is it when your heart isn't fully in it or you don't fully trust your partner? And I think this is also part of the reason why it's so important for Style to reach those 100%. He wants both of them to put 100% of their hearts and 100% of their trust in this relationship. He wants this to be an equal relationship.

And here and now in the bedroom Style asks again: "Can you open up to me?" But Fadel can't just yet. Because Fadel doesn't believe he can. So Style declares: "One day, I’ll be your 100%." One day he will show Fadel that it is possible for him to trust someone completely. One day he will have 100% of Fadel's trust. One day he will have 100% of Fadel's heart. And he will get there. Because he is persistent. And because Fadel already has 100% of Style's heart and Style's trust. It's only fair for Style to get 100% in return.

So. This is the reason why the Thai lines make me feel insane. Now on to the English translation which adds additional imagery, which as a whole makes me feel even more insane.

Let me just start out with a reminder that at the bowling alley Fadel vehemently refused to wear the stupid shirt and then announced that he was taking it off as soon as they were done when he did agree to wear it after all. And now let me just point out that Fadel is still wearing that very same stupid shirt in during this scene in Style's bedroom. In fact, it's Style who loses the shirt first. Anyway.

In English Fadel says "No one can truly lay themselves bare for someone." But Style already has. For Fadel's whole entire line we linger on a shot of Style's bare body:

Fadel says "No one can truly lay themselves bare for someone" to Style who is literally bare before him. Style is living proof of the contrary of Fadel's beliefs. They continue their conversation and then Style asks "Will you lay yourself bare for me?" to Fadel, who is still fully clothed and very much not bare. And again, their conversation continues until Style declares "One day, I’ll be your 100%." And right after that Style pulls up Fadel's shirt. And how much does he pull it up?

That's right. He lays bare roughly 80% of Fadel's upper body (if we don't count the back of the shirt that didn't go up bc Joong is lying on it). He lays bare those 80% that Fadel told Style that he had. A little later Style pulls up the shirt even more for better access to the nipples but Fadel never fully loses his shirt the way Style has (who literally starts out the scene by immediately taking his shirt off, baring himself to Fadel first thing with no inhibitions). Until the end of the episode Fadel never loses the shirt 100% because he is not yet ready for that, not yet ready to lay himself bare for Style. Not yet ready for Style to uncover 100% of him. And Style respects that, no matter how much he might have complained at the bar. He never tries to remove more of the shirt than those 80% that he was granted.

Sorry. I need a moment.

Okay, now that we have this imagery and those themes out of the way, let's go through the scene the way I usually do. So this episode we started their story with Style feeling very uncomfortable at the thought of bringing Fadel, a Known Killer, to his home and we end the episode with Fadel right there in Style's room, in Style's bed. Style and Fadel have spent the entire episode sharing personal things and getting to know each other better and also on a bit of a deeper level and now that they're in private away from the others, Style opens up about something that has been on his mind all episode: "It feels so weird every time I’m with you. Sometimes you make me feel so scared, and sometimes you make me feel so safe."

Style is very much not scared of Fadel in this moment. In fact, most of his behavior and his actions surrounding Fadel this episode weren't the behavior and the actions of a scared man, especially when he was interacting with Fadel directly (apart from the very first scene in the sauna when the initial shock hadn't worn off yet). I think Style is still thinking of his mind vs. heart conflict when he says "sometimes you make me feel scared and sometimes you make me feel safe", but deep down he has already decided.

But Fadel doesn't know any of this. Fadel has no idea of the internal battle that Style has been fighting all episode, trying to reconcile the image of the ruthless killer with the man he's falling in love with. So Fadel tells him that it would be good for Style to be a little scared of him and repeats his point from back at the bar about (in)complete trust. And then he speaks out a warning: "The real me might be scarier than you think." But Style isn't scared. Because Style already knows that. Style already knows the truth.

However, Style mostly knows it in theory. He did get to see some of Fadel's real him in action when he took on 3 men by himself and also got to experience some of Fadel's violence on his own body. But the thing is, no matter how much he isn't scared of Fadel despite Knowing the Truth in theory, now matter how lowkey (highkey) hot he found Fadel take out three whole men, actually witnessing Fadel actively kill someone in practice might still be traumatizing no matter how much he thinks he is mentally prepared for it, so I do think Fadel kinda has a point with his warning. But I'm not sure Style has thought this far ahead already. I think in this episode he was mostly preoccupied with worrying about his own life, his own safety and with coming to terms that he was falling in love with a murderer in the first place.

Throughout the entire episode Fadel has never really given Style a reason to be scared of him. Instead, Fadel has spent quality time with Style, has engaged in conversation more than ever before, has asked him personal questions about his life and has even shared a little bit about his own life, which wasn't much but it was a start. They've had serious talks, sexy talks, fun talks, they were silly together and laughed together and they sat on the floor and shared pain together. Fadel didn't even get murderous over a potential break-up in the very beginning when Style was still nervous around him. Style spent the entire episode falling in love with Fadel, despite knowing about his occupation. "Can you open up for me? / Will you lay yourself bare for me?" Style responds to Fadel's warning. It's encouragement in several ways. It's encouragement for Fadel to try to learn that he can in fact trust someone (Style) 100%, that he can in fact be fully open with someone (Style). And it's encouragement for Fadel to tell Style his secret. Style needs Fadel to open up, to admit the truth himself first. Style needs it, so that they can openly talk about it without having to dance around the subject and talk in metaphors. He needs it so that there will be one less thing that he is lying about, so that he'll be one step closer to being able to be 100% honest with Fadel. And it has to be Fadel specifically who says it first so that Style can just run with it, because if Fadel finds out that Style was already in the know then both Kant and his mission as well as the 80% trust that Fadel has granted Style are on the line.

"I promise that no matter who you are, I’ll still like you." And there it is. Style's decision. His mind and his heart were fighting a battle and his heart won. Rationally he knows Fadel is dangerous and that he should stay away from him if he values his own life, but the heart wants what the heart wants. And even though it's not exactly like he can just say I know what you are and I fell in love anyway, I want to be with you despite it all, he still tries to get the message across.

Fadel doesn't believe his promise, though. "Words are cheap. I’ll do that when you’re ready. You can judge, then." Again, I think Fadel has a point. Fadel's response works whether Fadel is aware that Style knows or not. Because yes, Style may say he'll like Fadel no matter his occupation, but Style still hasn't seen the killer in action. Fadel's words mean Decide whether you still like me or not only when you find out my real occupation before you promise anything as much as they mean Decide whether you still like me or not once you've actually seen me murder someone in front of you before you promise anything. Style has already made a decision about the former, but he is yet to make a decision about the latter.

But in reality he has already made a choice and he is set on it: "One day, I’ll be your 100%." He wants Fadel's full trust and he wants Fadel's full heart. He will show Fadel that he will stay by his side and that Fadel's trust in him will be worth it. He will show Fadel that the mortifying ordeal of Being Known™ is not as scary as it seems. He means it when he says he'll like Fadel no matter what. Because now he already cares and worries about him much more deeply than he could ever have anticipated. Assassin be damned. He can get over it. And also, Fadel being dangerous is really fucking hot. "I just hope you don’t get any new scars."

I've already made a post about it, but I just want to point out: Fadel's scar is positioned right above his heart. I do very much wonder if the scar is related to the guy Fadel danced with in the flashback. Is he the reason why Fadel doesn't trust anyone 100%? Did whatever happened with that guy not just metaphorically leave a scar on Fadel's heart but also physically? Either way, we know how it's going to end:

Style's love is going to heal Fadel's scarred heart.

[quintessenceofdust88]

🎄🎄 The Christmas Book - A Tale in 4 parts: part 2 🎄🎄

(I should be writing the next chapter of Little Blobs and/or finishing Flaming Delights, but this was screaming at me to be written, so I'm guessing Flaming Delights will be a post-Christmas Hallmark movie, and this will be my Christmas gift to y'all.)

Part 1: [2025]

2030

It's five years before Buck and Tommy manage to get Christmas off together again, and the twins are absolutely thrilled about it. They're four years old now, able to understand what it's all about, and very excited about spending the holiday with both their Daddy and Papa.

Tomorrow they'll go over to grandpa Bobby for lunch, but tonight, on Christmas Eve, it's just the four of them. The twins are lying on the floor in their matching PJs (it's a green set covered in gingerbread men that Maddie bought them and it's ridiculously adorable), their bare feet swinging in the air as they make drawings on the Christmas Book.

Buck and Tommy already glued some pictures to their 2030 entry: Stella and Leonardo meeting Santa (Leo had been very wary but polite, calling him 'Mr. Santa' and very sweetly asking for a puppy that Tommy and Buck had agreed he wouldn't get, not for another few years, and he had settled for a plushie one instead; Stella had sat by Santa's side with no fear whatsoever, promptly asked for a Wonder Woman doll and asked how many reindeer would be taking the sled, cause she wanted to leave a carrot for each one); the four of them plus Eddie and Chris in the ice skating rink (Buck had wisely stayed behind under the guide of keeping Chris company, and had taken a lot of shit from Chris himself for it, but it was better than making a complete fool out of himself on the ice. Stella and Leo had been naturals at it, just like their Papa); the kids baking cookies with Jee, Kevin, Denny and Mara.

Now Stella and Leo are adding their own decorations around the photos while Buck and Tommy finish decorating the tree. Every year they promise themselves they'll finish before Christmas Eve, and every year they fail to do so, but Buck has faith that next year they'll manage it.

"Daddy, can I draw ice skates like the ones we used the other day?" Leo asks, his clear eyebrows frowned in concentration.

"Course you can, buddy" Buck encourages distractedly, taking a step back to check the tree.

Some ornaments are not quite where he likes them, because the kids had helped during the whole process, so most of the cuter ones (especially the mickey-shaped ones that the twins got when Bobby took them to Disneyland the Christmas before) are hanging on lower branches. But over the last four years he has learned to value the process over the results, especially when baking or crafting is involved.

"Daddy" Leo asks again, his soft cheek supported by his hand as he looks quizzically at the page. Stella is drawing the fourth out of eight carrots, one for each reindeer like she had promised Santa, and although some of them look less carrot-shaped than others, it's the thought that counts. "How do you draw an ice skate?"

"Um", Buck says, not quite sure what to tell his son, and desperately looks at Tommy. Out of the two of them, his husband is the one with drawing abilities; Buck can't even play Pictionary without people thinking his bird is a car or vice-versa.

"Tell you what, Leo-bear" Tommy says, sitting down on the floor between their twins, groaning as he does so. Buck smirks teasingly at him, mouthing 'old man', and he knows the only reason Tommy doesn't flip him off is because the kids are there, but he might pay for his comment once they're asleep (he hopes he'll pay for his comment once they're asleep). "Why don't Papa draw it and then you color it and add the shoelaces? Those are easier, you draw them like spaghetti"

"Oh, like we drew in the birthday card we sent Nonna?" Leo asks, and Tommy nods in confirmation, taking the crayon from his son's hand and hastily sketching a small ice skate.

"Papa, can you draw one for me too?! And can I color it with my glitter crayon?!" Stella asks excitedly once she sees what Tommy drew for her brother, and Leo gasps.

"I want to use glitter crayons too! Can we, Papa?!" He asks, and both of them turn their puppy eyes at Tommy, which of course means he's doomed.

"Yeah, they're in the playroom drawer. Do you need help getting it?" Tommy asks, and Buck, as always, marvels at how good he is at giving the children their autonomy.

It's something they're both very adamant about. Buck's read about a thousand books about Montessorian education and found out it wasn't actually about raising sad beige babies, but about not doing things for the kids that they can do on their own, fetching their toys being one of them.

"Nope, we got it! C'mon, Stellina!" Leo answers, jumping up and offering his hand to Stella, who eagerly follows her brother down the hallway and into their playroom.

Buck looks at them, these two little wonders of nature they've been raising and that become more and more their own people every day, and his heart feels full. And then he looks at his husband, dutifully drying ice skates for their kids to color, and his heart feels even fuller, if at all possible.

He rummages through the Christmas ornaments' box, mostly empty by this point, until he finds what he was looking for. A branch of dried mistletoe, kept there for the last five years and that it'll still serve its purpose, he's sure.

Buck kneels down besides Tommy, holding the mistletoe over his head, staring expectantly at him until his husband looks up from his doodle and rolls his eyes, though his smile betrays him.

"I think you're tricking me into a kiss, mr. Kinard" Tommy teases, but he's already holding Buck's cheeks with both his hands, pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

Buck melts into it, allowing his lips to linger onto Tommy's for just a while longer. They've been together for roughly five years, kissed at least once every day (which means at least 1.800 kisses, and wow. That's a lot of kissing), and Buck still feels giddy every time they put their lips together.

"Ewwww, Daddy and Papa are kissing!" Leo says, sticking out his tongue, the glitter crayon box held tightly in his small fist. Stella, however, is looking at them with pure awe in their eyes.

"Awww, I think it's cute, Leo! It's like at the end of stories, there's always kissing" She says, looking at the two of them expectantly. "Do it again, Daddy? Please?"

Tommy and Buck exchange a sheepish look, and Buck's sure his cheeks are as red as his husband's. But who is he to deny his romantic of a daughter?

"Since you asked so nicely, Stellina" He teases, and dives in for a chaste kiss that Tommy happily retributes. The background noise is Stella's cheering and Leo's exclaiming 'Grossss', and Buck thinks that if people could explode from happiness, he'd be at serious danger.

"Okay, can we pleaseeee put the star now?" Leo asks once they're apart, and Buck remember he had promised to put the star under the kids' watchful gaze.

"C'mon, mini-menaces, sit here on my lap so we can watch Daddy put the star, and then you can finish your drawing"

"And then it's bedtime" Buck finishes while he rummages the box to get their trusted star out. "Or else Santa won't bring any presents to this house"

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul 

The threat of no presents is enough to get the kids nodding, and they scamper to sit on Tommy's knees, eagerly watching Buck. This tree is not as tall as their last one, and he won't need the ladder to place the star on top of it. They know the twins would love to help, but their coordination is not that good yet, and both Buck and Tommy have answered enough calls of children hurt by Christmas trees falling on top of them to be properly paranoid. Maybe in a few years.

For now, they are happy to snuggle into their Papa's broad chest and look in awe as their tall strong Daddy places the star on top of the tree. As Buck does that, his eyes keeps drifting to his perfect little family, and he realizes that the three stars he needs are right there.

Tag list (lemme know if you want to be added or removed :) ) :

@asmugfirefighter

@typicalopposite @littlepaws9 @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @dearqueend @laundryandtaxesworld

@buckleyskinards

[wendichester]

Not sure if you take requests or suggestions but I just know you’d write the sweetest and hottest Drabble of reader wearing Dean’s brown leather jacket over lingerie as a surprise for his birthday or Christmas & he can’t help but fuck you in the impala still in his jacket because he wants it to smell like sex and he’s going crazy with you in it

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🏎️ ⋆ ۪ brown leather jacket,

summary. everything of dean's is intoxicating.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 1133

notes. +18, implied intimacy, nudity. mdni .ᐟ + my first ever request .ᐟ i hope i did it justice (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

The first thing you ever noticed about Dean Winchester wasn’t his smile or his impossibly green eyes. It wasn’t even the sharpness of his jawline or the way his lips quirked up like he was in on a joke only he understood. No, the first thing you noticed was his jacket.

That brown leather jacket—worn, scuffed, and perfectly molded to his broad frame—caught your eye before his face ever did. He had his back to you when you walked into the room, leaning over a table with his weight resting on his arms, the jacket pulling tight across his shoulders. It was stupid, really, how something so simple could look so damn good.

Then he turned around, and that was it. Game over.

Because his face was even better than the jacket. The most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on, rugged and charming all at once. But even as you took in those piercing green eyes and that teasing smirk, your attention kept drifting back to the jacket. The way it made his shoulders seem impossibly broader, the way it accentuated the muscles in his arms as he moved. It turned you on, plain and simple.

Over time, though, it became more than that. It wasn’t just the jacket itself—it was what he did with it. The way he’d shrug it off without a second thought and drape it over your shoulders when the air turned cold. The way he’d zip it up for you, his fingers brushing your chin as the oversized sleeves swallowed your hands. Or how he’d toss it over your legs during long drives in the Impala, grumbling something about the draft.

It wasn’t just a jacket anymore. It was Dean. A little piece of him that always felt like home.

So, whenever he couldn't find it, he'd usually assume you were wearing it.

The steady sound of water splashing over the Impala is the only noise in the garage, the cold air biting at Dean’s exposed forearms as he scrubs the hood. He’s muttering to himself about stubborn spots of dirt when the distinct click of heels echoes across the concrete floor.

He straightens, wiping his hands on a rag as he turns toward the sound. His brow furrows, expecting you to be bundled up, maybe there to tease him for spending Christmas Day with his car instead of you. But when his eyes land on you, every thought in his head screeches to a halt.

You’re standing in the doorway, framed by the dim light spilling in from the hall. Black heels, legs that seem to go on forever, and his leather jacket zipped just far enough to cover you halfway. The sleek black lingerie beneath it peeks out with every subtle movement, teasing him, taunting him.

Dean’s jaw slackens as he drags his eyes over you, from the curve of your bare legs to the smirk on your lips. “What the hell…” he mutters, the cold air suddenly irrelevant.

You step forward, your heels clicking again, and his gaze tracks every movement. “Merry Christmas, Dean,” you say softly, tugging the zipper of the jacket just an inch lower.

He exhales a shaky breath, his tongue darting over his bottom lip. “Sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice thick. “If this is how you’re celebrating, I’m thinking we should start celebrating Christmas.”

You saunter closer, fingers trailing along the edge of the car. “Well, you did say you didn’t want anything,” you tease, your voice low and playful.

His lips curve into a slow, heated smile. “Would be rude to refuse a gift.”

Dean’s lips crash against yours, all heat and desperation, as his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. The cold leather of his jacket contrasts with the searing warmth of his touch, and it’s a dizzying combination that has your knees going weak.

You don’t realize he’s steering you backward until the cool metal of the Impala’s back door presses against you. In one swift motion, he opens it and guides you down onto the seat, his broad frame hovering over you, his weight deliciously familiar.

Your fingers fumble with the zipper of the jacket, ready to peel it off, but his hand covers yours, stopping you. “Leave it,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Dean—”

“Trust me,” he cuts you off, his green eyes dark, that makes your breath hitch. His fingers trail along the edge of the jacket, pushing it open just enough to reveal the lace beneath, his gaze lingering like he’s savouring the sight.

“Looks too damn good on you,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, like he’s savouring every second.

The Impala’s leather creaks as he shifts closer, his hands exploring your curves under the jacket. “Never thought I’d love this thing more,” he whispers against your lips, his smirk making your heart race. “But on you? It’s driving me crazy, sweetheart.”

He immediately pins you down, his body fitting between your legs like he belong there. His lips are on your neck, his hands roaming your skin, tracing the contours as he kisses a trail down to your collarbone.

Dean's eyes flutter shut at the feel of your hands on his jeans, a low moan escaping his lips. The sound is almost feral as he struggles to keep his control. “You're driving me insane,” His touch is greedy, desperate even, as he explores your body like he's never touched you before.

His breath hitches, a low moan escaping his lips as your hand glides under his boxers, making contact with his skin. For all his bravado, he's completely and utterly undone by your touch, his body responding to you on a primal level.

Dean’s breathing is ragged as he presses his forehead to yours, trying to regain a shred of composure. His fingers trail reverently down the curve of your waist, tracing the edge of the jacket as though memorizing how it clings to you.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice gravelly and raw, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

You smirk, feeling him twitch in your hand. “I might have a clue,” you reply, your voice light and teasing, though your heart pounds like a drum in your chest.

Dean chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you. He leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You keep that up, we’re gonna fog up Baby’s windows,” he says, though there’s no regret in his tone—just a promise of more to come.

You laugh softly, your breath hot against his jaw. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

His grin turns wicked, but he doesn’t argue, as the Impala bears witness to yet another story written in heat and stolen moments.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11

[scoops404]

Scoops' Fics of 2024

It's that time of year again! The time for me to rank my own fics for the last year in order from my least favorite to most favorite. I only considered fics I wrote entirely myself, so you won't see an honest living in here because that was almost 50/50 written with Dizzy! (but you should definitely go check it out!)

This year I only had two novel length fics because I was supposed to be focusing on original work (oops). I had a heck of a summer with my bingo fills. There's definitely recency bias at play here, but that's just how it goes sometimes. Let me know if you agree/disagree :D

See the Elephant - T - this one was written for a fic fest that ended up getting canceled because of the grituation. I had already written the entire thing and it had to be T because the artists were going to post their work. If I had known it would be canceled, I would have had them doing the freaknasty. This was after I had already planned out and written a fic before new boundaries dropped in November (see Circling Back). Basically, this fic fest was never meant to be, I suppose. I was starting to think I was a curse. Oh, but the fic itself is a soulmate AU and kinda angsty and has a hospital scene. 0 horse mentions.

Merry Men Making Merry - T - This was written for Fairy Tales from the SMP - the first and only successful fanfiction event I've completed all the way through (it's never me dropping out btw, it's always the event getting canceled). Anyway I got my first choice of fairy tale, which was Robin Hood, and I put a fun spin on it. The art with this fic was gorgeous!! A very different type of fic for me and it stretched some writing muscles I didn't know I had. Secret identity and identity reveal, some of my favorite tropes. 4 horse mentions.

Move to Florida, buy the car you want - E - the first of my bingo fics. It turns out I am bad at being brief. Anyway, DNF get together and semi-roadhead and I dunno, it's cute. I wrote most of this fic free hand in my note book at my work desk because fuck capitalism. I just checked, the prompt was "late night care rides" which checks out. 0 horse mentions

Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts (croptop) - E - this is the one from the middle of June about crop tops that was also written for bingo. I dunno. It's cute enough. 0 horse mentions.

Everyone understands why it’s mean to be (a/b/o phone call) - T - this one is funny because I didn't even bother saying what the prompt was in the author's notes, but I think it was a/b/o. This one was fun to write because it was basically a nod to the 2021 fandom and where we were, and where DNF were -- waiting on that damn visa. Like going back in time and writing a fic. 1 horse mention.

Can I Use You Up - E - I really had fun writing this one. It has fun Dreateam dynamics and then a really intense sex scene and the dichotomy of both of those things in one fic -- and short (for me), at that! impressive. 0 horse mentions.

Circling Back - E - this fic is fun and wild. I got to write co-workers to lovers that is also hidden/secret identity -- and it works! WILD! I re-read this one recently and it stands up. This was originally written for that first fic fest i was talking about and when they changed it for the new boundaries for art, I couldn't have any smut and the whole plot kind of hinged around the smut, so... I decided to just write it as it is. ALSO this is the first fic that Chelsey beta'd, I think. So that's fun! And it was the first fic of the year (not counting Hits Different which wrapped up in January). 0 horse mentions.

Just to do experiments on - E - Yall, if you had told me that I would write tentacle porn, I would have laughed at you. Extra has been trying to get me to write tentacles for YEARS and then it came up on my bingo card and I felt like I finally had to bite the bullet and do it. Except, I actually really love how it turned out? This bingo prompt was tentacles, obviously, but also cursed by a witch. A twofer, if you will. 0 horse mentions.

Let Me Familiarize You - E - here's some Scoops lore. I wrote this fic in two sitting and it is 13K, so that's wild!!! It took me two days in the time after my surgery but before I could go back to work to write this (in between writing the beginnings of Two Fools and another story that I haven't and won't publish lol). Anyway, it's about witch!George accidentally making Patches his familiar and then coming clean to Dream and also his mom is there. And then literally that same day, George dropped a video with his mom. Crazy pants. (or maybe it was the day before when this was all written? Can't remember. Also I was on pain pills). I really like how it turned out. It's a fun premise! 0 horse mentions.

Puzzle pieces in the dead of night - T - another bingo fic, the prompt was pirates. Anyway, I had a BLAST writing this one. Secret identity, kidnapping, munchy mc dynamics, I really like writing action adventurey fics and this one feel right into that category. A fun read, in my opinion. 0 horse mentions.

I’m Having His Baby (No, I’m Not) - E - a bingo fic, the prompt was "mpreg, but abortion" because the person who made the boards *ahem* doesn't like pregnancy stuff and wanted to punish me (lightheartedly lol). Anyway, joke is on her, because I made this into an epic story and I had so much fun writing it. Like, laughing out loud to myself while writing it, which is kinda sad, but is also the point of fanfiction. You have to entertain yourself first and foremost. And also I snuck eventual mpreg in there anyway so haha! for real, though, if you think the premise of this one is weird -- Dream and George accompany Sapnap on a roadtrip to Colorado to get his abortion -- you should try it out anyway. 1 horse mention, and arguably the one that brought it to our good anon's attention.

Anagnorisis - E - speaking of mpreg, LMAOOOOOO. My "I didn't know I was pregnant" AU with Angst and miscommunication and domesticity and last minute flights to London and a baby named after the lead singer of Glass Animals. This fic has a lot! I wrote a lot about the beginning of this fic on Tumblr and kind of how I begin writing fics. Here Anyway, pretty proud of this fic. I had to ask my mom a lot of questions about NICU. 3 horse mentions.

I Am Two Fools - E - every year the last novel length fic of the year seems to be in the top spot. No Exception this year. This fic was very tough to write, but very rewarding. I think it taught me a lot about making sure character motivations are fleshed out and make sense. It, and Anagnorisis, taught me about trusting the reader and dropping hints at things. Yall got So Good at catching hints and making molehills out of anthills, as intended. I took a chance and switched up POV halfway through, which is almost never do. And I think that really helped me stretch my writing muscles as well as all the bingo fics. Very proud of the work I did on this fic. 0 horse mentions.

[worldly-fluster]

WARNING: ANGST

Talk of wanting to commit unalive.

You have been warned.

The LADS boys when...they find your 'Diary'

--Zayne-- Part 3 of 4

This is gonna be...fun lol

Zayne-

•He knew, somewhat, of what happened. In the time that he was gone, he knew something happened.

•Before he left, when you were younger kids, you were so...bratty. He may have looked like he hated it but he just couldn't get enough of you, as you were.

•He left in order to learn more, to help your heart.

•But when he was finally able to come back, when he saw you again...it was like whiplash.

•You were so quiet. So...withdrawn.

•This won't do.

•He knew you didn't speak about your family anymore. He didn't pry, they were full of themselves before he left, probably nothing changed with them so he saw no point in worrying.

•So he worked, even more, to get you to come back. His little bratty childhood friend.

•He succeeded after a while. You were confident again, acting like the kid you were a long time ago but...more mature this time.

•Though he may not like that your job puts you in harms way, but he couldn't force you to stop something that made you happy.

•He saw your eyes gleam when you saved lives. He couldn't, wouldn't ever even try to take that away from you.

•Today was no different.

•You just successfully defeated one of the most powerful Wanderers the association has seen in a while, yeah there were casualties but there were more survivors than wounded. Thanks to your quick thinking.

•He took you out to celebrate, after checking you were unharmed.

•You both went to an old restaurant that you used to go to as kids, he wanted to see you happy with memories.

•What he didn't expect was to run into your Mother and...some random man?

•You all stared at each other for a few seconds before Zayne stepped between you and smiled, stiffly.

•"Oh Hi Zayne, it's been a while. How are things?"

•While Zayne talked with your mother, he figured out a few things.

•Your parents got divorced, and your mother is... a complete narcissist.

•She married another narcissist, perfect for each other.

•The whole conversation took a turn however when they asked what you did for a living...

•When told, your Mother frowned.

•"So you were one of the people who failed so save those innocent lives lost?" "No wonder they died. Maybe you should have tried harder."

•When you told her that you got hurt trying your best, she frowned deeper.

•"Still, if I were you I would have tried harder and if that wasn't enough I would have sacrificed myself. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, like you, because I have a soul."

•Upon hearing this, Zayne understood more of why you stopped being around your mother.

•Zayne quickly came up with a work emergency, saying that he was your ride and you left most of your things in his car so he'll take you with him.

•He took your hand gently, paid the bill, and led you away to his car.

•He could feel icy hot anger creeping up his back, he knew if he heard anymore he would accidentally use his evol.

•He loved you since the beginning. He couldn't stand hearing that and knowing that you used to believe that... hopefully you don't anymore, not if he can help it.

•He drove you home and both of you decided to stay inside to read a few books you have yet to read.

•When you got home, you immediately went to take a shower, to get your thoughts together, while Zayne looked through the surprisingly large selection of books.

•While searching, he saw one of your old notebooks that he would see you write in sometimes. He's asked about it and you told him he could read it at a later date.

•He figured now was the later date, so he picked it up to read.

•Only a few pages on and he realized what you ment by 'later'.

•This notebook is the equivalent to writing a Will...and he didn't like how you were 'talking' about your death coming sooner or later whether it be by natural causes or your own hand...he definitely didn't like that part.

•He kept reading, thinking that maybe he should have convinced you to therapy, but he saw something about how you have been to too many therapists and you're sick of it, so he decided not to worry about it quite yet.

•He got to the last entry, which seemed pretty recent, when he heard your shower stop so he immediately snapped the book shut and put it back where he found it, picking up a random book next to it. Something called 'Forgiving what you can't forget', he doesn't know where you got this one nor does it look like something you would buy yourself.

•The entire time you all were reading together, he kept glancing from his book to you and the notebook.

•He decided he was definitely going to make sure that nothing in that book will come to fruition. If it's the last thing he does.

**I'm working on Rafayel's as we speak lol the last one, and imma try and make that one extra angsty cause I'm realizing most of you are Rafayel girlies 😘**

[1425fivefive]

norstappen + begging please?

post-2024 austria norstappen begging (for the kink prompt ask)

Lando doesn’t say anything when he opens his hotel room door, just goes over to the desk chair and curls up in it, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. Max can tell he’s been crying, his face a blotchy pink, his eyes red-rimmed.

“Fuck, Lando,” Max says, chest aching at the sight.

Lando makes a small, hurt noise, but he says, “Don’t fucking—don’t you dare fucking pity me.”

“I’m not,” Max lies.

Lando lets out a sob, bringing a sleeve up to scrub at his cheek. “I know you fucking do,” Lando says, voice shaking. “And you’re not even—you’re not even fucking sorry about it.”

“I am,” Max says. “I am, fuck, Lando, I—” Max trails off, running a hand through his hair.

When he’d made the move, he hadn’t thought it’d been over the line. He thought there was enough space, he thought Lando would brake, he thought Lando would back off and try again on the next lap. He hadn’t meant to puncture Lando’s tire along with his own. Hadn’t meant to send them both limping back to the pits. Hadn’t meant to force Lando to retire the car.

But Lando’s looking at Max like he doesn’t even recognize him. Max feels a flutter of panic at the idea that this might be something Lando can’t forgive. That maybe Lando thinks Max wanted to ruin Lando’s race.

Max takes a step forward, reaching a hand out. “Lando—”

“What?” Lando snaps. “What the fuck do you want Max?”

Max thinks about how it’d been early in the season, when Lando had been giggly and pliant in bed. When they’d fucked and played video games after, Lando’s feet in his lap. It’d been easy and nice and perfect, and Max hadn’t realized exactly how perfect it was until he’d lost it.

“Lando,” Max whispers, cringing at the desperation in his voice.

Lando wipes his nose with the sleeve of his sweater, glaring at Max. “You can’t fuck me if that’s what you want,” Lando says. “That’s—I’m not fucking doing that.”

“I wasn’t—” Max breaks off on a groan, desperately trying to work out the right thing to say.

Maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all, maybe he should just—

Max sinks to his knees in front of Lando.

“Oh my god,” Lando mutters. “You are here to fuck me.”

Max’s cheeks flush and he shakes his head, frantic. “No, I—fuck, Lando, I’m trying—” Max grabs the arms of the desk chair, pulling it toward him.

Lando yelps, legs flying down to land on either side of Max, crotch directly in front of Max’s face.

“Let me suck your dick,” Max says. “Let me—I’m trying to apologize, Lando.”

Lando lets out an indignant little huff, but he’s staring at Max intently, like maybe he finally wants to hear what Max has to say.

“Please,” Max whispers, bringing a hand to slide up Lando’s thigh, playing with the hem of Lando’s shorts. “Please, Lando.”

“How bad?” Lando asks.

Max frowns, confused. “What?”

Lando flushes, sinking into his hoodie. “How bad, like—how bad do you want it?”

“Your cock?”

Lando bites his lip, nods.

Max lets out a slow exhale. He can do this. If this is what he needs to do to make Lando see how much he means to him, how much Max cares about him, fine. He’ll fucking beg.

“So bad, Lando,” Max murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to the inside of Lando’s thigh. “Fucking love your cock.”

Lando lets out a whimper but he stifles it immediately, frowning down at Max, clearly trying to seem in control. “Keep going.”

“Missed it so much, Lando,” Max breathes, pressing a kiss to Lando’s other thigh. “Love the way you taste. Please let me suck you.”

Lando whines, but he snaps, “You can’t come tonight.”

Max’s cock aches but he’s not a teenager. He can make it through a night if that’s what Lando needs.

“And you can’t fuck me,” Lando continues. “I won’t be sucking your dick either, so if you’re doing this because you, like, expect me to return the favor or something—”

“I’m not,” Max says gently, rubbing his thumbs over Lando’s skin, trying to soothe him. “Let me do this for you.”

Lando’s eyes are wide, pupils huge. Max knows Lando’s going to let him.

But Lando says, “I haven’t, like, forgiven you yet.”

The yet feels important. Like maybe if Max does this well enough, maybe—

Max brings his hands up to the waistband of Lando’s athletic shorts, tugging them down Lando’s legs, revealing Lando’s cock, thick and hard.

“Fuck, Lando,” Max breathes. “So fucking pretty.”

Lando whimpers at that, thighs spreading. “Say please again,” Lando orders, voice breathy.

“Please, baby,” Max groans, staring at Lando’s cock, imagining it in his mouth. “Please let me suck your pretty cock.”

“God, Max,” Lando moans, and he fists a hand in Max’s hair, dragging him down to his cock. “You can. Please, I—” Lando breaks off on a whine as Max drags his tongue over Lando’s length.

Max flashes his eyes up to Lando’s, holding his gaze as he sinks slowly down Lando’s cock. He manages to get all of it in his mouth, choking around it, eyes watering.

Lando’s staring down at him with a dazed expression, cheeks flushed, lips parted. But his fingers tighten in Max’s hair and he breathes, “Good boy.”

Max moans, brings a hand up to play with Lando’s balls the way Lando likes, and tries to show Lando exactly how sorry he is.

[sequinsmile-x]

All I Want for Christmas

Christmas Eve with the Hotchners.

-x-

Hi besties,

One last bit of Christmas fluff for you lovely lot this year. This really is just pure, family fluff and our favs having a typical Christmas eve with their family.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and happy mid-week to those who don't. I hope you have a wonderful couple of days no matter what you do and what you celebrate <3

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Malls had freaked her out ever since the case with Katie Jacobs. Especially when she was in one with her children, the memory of all the places a little kid could hide, or be hidden, making a shiver run down her spine every time she thought about it. It didn’t help that Aaron wasn’t here with them, that she was on her own and thinking of every terrible thing that could happen to Jack, Hazel and Oliver, but he was on his way. 

The jet had landed back in DC all of 45 minutes ago, and he’d called and told her he’d come and meet her at the mall. He’d sounded tired, worn down by whatever horrors he and the team had seen when they were away. She told him they could just meet him at home, that he didn’t need to come and wait in line with her so the kids could meet some random guy dressed as Santa, but he’d insisted. 

This kind of thing, the achingly normal parts of being a parent and part of a family, were as important to him as they were to her. The extraordinary ordinariness of it all made her emotional sometimes. Love and joy filling the space in her chest that she thinks must have always been waiting for them. Waiting for the man she loves and his son who would one day be hers, and the little girl and boy who would follow.  It was beautiful and hers and everything she never thought she’d get. 

Which is exactly why even though her feet hurt from standing in line for so long on Christmas Eve, and her back hurt from holding Oliver on her hip since she’d lifted him out of the car, she was able to find the joy in waiting in line at the mall for her kids to see Santa. 

Oliver grumbles in Emily’s arms and rubs his face against her neck. She hums and turns to kiss the 10-month-old’s forehead, “I know sweet boy,” she says, kissing him again, “It’s almost nap time, huh?” 

Hazel turns to look at her, her hand still wrapped up in Jack’s where they were standing barely a foot in front of her, “Mommy, I’m bored.” 

“I know, baby,” she says, Emily smiles at the absolute weariness in her four-year-old’s voice and she adjusts her hold on Oliver, so she can run fingers through the little girl’s dark hair as she looks at the line ahead of them and slightly too enthusiastic elves at the front, “But it’s almost our turn.” 

“Santa has a lot of people to talk to,” Jack says, winking at Emily before he turns his attention to his little sister, “It’s only fair everyone gets to talk to him.” 

One evening, back in November, Jack had announced to his parents that he knew Santa wasn’t real. He’d delighted in being in on the secret as much as they’d been sad that he was, a strange mix of sadness spreading through them at the thought of their eldest growing up and pride because of the person he was becoming.

“Exactly,” Emily says, smiling at Jack, “It’s Christmas Eve,” she enthuses, looking back at her little girl, “He’s a busy guy.” 

“Emily!”

She turns at the sound of her husband’s voice and feels herself relax the moment she sees him walking towards them. She leans in to kiss him the moment he’s close enough, her lips stamped against his, “Speaking of busy guys.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

She can hear the weariness in his voice, the tiredness brought on by the job they once shared and coming so close to missing Christmas. She’d left the BAU when she had Hazel, something she had never regretted for a second, and she now led the Counterterrorism unit. She’d sent her team early and had her work phone tucked into her pocket in case of an emergency, but it was important to spend Christmas with her kids - especially when they were so young - because her parents had never really spent it with her. It was why she loved Christmas so much, because she saw it through the eyes of her children, the magic of it stronger than it had ever been as she watched them enjoy it too. 

Hazel throws herself at Aaron, excited to see her father after a few days apart, her apparent boredom now forgotten, “Daddy!” 

“Hi princess,” he says, hauling her up into his arms and kissing her cheek before he settles her onto his hip, “Are you excited to see Santa?” 

She nods, “He’s very busy but it’s almost our turn.” 

He smiles and ruffles Jack’s hair, his smile getting wider when he tries to doge his father’s affection, “Hi buddy.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Dad.” 

Aaron then leans in to kiss Oliver’s forehead, “Hi Ollie,” he furrows his brow when Oliver grumbles and leans in closer to Emily, his tiny hand tangled up in her necklace. Aaron looks up at Emily, “Is he okay?” 

She nods and rubs a circle on Oliver’s back, “He’s okay, he’s just tired.” 

“The next family can come forward.”

Emily smiles at the elf in front of them and nods her thanks before she looks at the kids, with genuine enthusiasm in her eyes, “Come on, let's go meet Santa.” 

Hazel goes first. She sits on his lap and tells him what she wants - a princess castle which was currently in the home office waiting to be built - and then smiles for her photo. Jack does the same, a knowing look in his eyes as he goes through the motions for the sake of his parents and his sister. 

As Emily expected, the moment she puts Oliver down on Santa’s lap he bursts into tears. He stays there long enough for a picture, something that makes Emily feel a little bad because of just how much it amuses her. She picks him back up again, shushing him as she tries to soothe him, her lips against his temple as she whispers words of comfort in English and French. 

“Why did Ollie cry?” Hazel asks, one hand in Aaron’s and the other in Jack’s as they walk back to the car, “It’s just Santa.” 

“You cried when you first met him too,” Jack says, his smile getting wide when Hazel furrows her brow.

“No, I didn’t.” 

“You did, princess,” Aaron says, smiling as he meets his wife’s eyes, the memory of their little girl, who had only been 6 months old at the time, and the way she’d burst into tears just like Oliver had.

“But I love Santa,” she says, her lower lip stuck out in a pout. 

“Now you do, sweet girl,” Emily replies, “But you were very little. Even littler than Ollie,” she turns to Aaron, sighing when she sees him dig through his pockets for his car keys, wishing more than anything they were driving home together, “See you at home?” 

He nods, “I’ll grab dinner on the way back.” 

“It’s okay, you’ve been at work all day,” she says, “I can-”

“You’ve got all the kids with you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “It’s easier if I go.” 

She smiles and nods, stamping her lips against his, “Okay, see you at home.” 

___

She sneaks out of Oliver’s room, making sure she’s careful as she pulls the door closed behind her, sighing in relief for managing to get all the kids to sleep, something that was no mean feat on any day let alone Christmas Eve. 

She yawns as she walks down the hallway, seeking out her husband and the rare and precious alone time she wants with him. She walks downstairs and smiles as she comes to a stop outside of the home office when she hears a muttered curse through the door. She knocks and then steps inside, her smile only getting wider when she finds him sitting on the floor surrounded by pieces of the princess castle they’d bought for Hazel. Most of it is still in pieces, with only the base built, and Aaron’s hair is all over the place from where he’d run his fingers through it in frustration. 

“How is going in here?” She asks, pressing her lips together to hide her amusement when he looks up at her, more frustration written across his face than she’d seen in a long time. 

“Did you know that this thing needs three different types of batteries?” He asks, shaking his head as he looks at the instructions again, “Why does anything need three different types of batteries?” 

She sits on the ground next to him, “Do you want any help?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as he grabs the instructions from the floor in between them, “I can do it. You wrapped all the other gifts, I can build this.” 

She finds herself trying to suppress a smile again, her love for him and his love for their children thrumming under her skin. He was tired. Weary in a way that seemed bone deep, and he was insistent on building one of their daughter’s Christmas presents so she didn’t have to wait for him to do it tomorrow. She leans in to kiss his cheek, and she wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pressing her fingers into the muscles she knew ached the most.

“That’s because I enjoy wrapping presents, honey,” she says, smiling at him, stamping another kiss against his chest, “No one likes to build these things.” 

He hums and hands her the instructions, “You can see if you can make any sense of this if you’d like?”

She takes the piece of paper and immediately frowns at it, the instructions and the accompanying diagrams making no sense at all. She turns it over and tries to read them on the other side, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, honey, they don’t make sense in French or Italian either.” 

They end up working on it together, figuring it out mostly through trial and error as they slowly but surely build the castle they know will delight their little girl in the morning. When it’s eventually done, Aaron switches on all the lights and smiles in delight and relief when it works. 

“Thank fuck for that,” he says, sitting back to admire his work and blowing out a slow breath, “I was very close to telling Hazel that Santa was all out of princess castles.”

“No, you weren’t,” Emily chuckles and leans in to kiss him, her lips catching the corner of his as she cups his cheek, “You’d have stayed up until the morning if you needed to. Because you’re the best dad in the whole world.” 

He hums and kisses her, “And you’re the best mom.”

She smiles so widely that her cheeks ache and she once again wonders how this was her life, how she’d got so lucky to have him here with her with their children all safely tucked in their beds upstairs. She thinks of the Christmases she’d spent alone, how she had ached for a life where she’d stay up all night to build a present for her kid just to see their smile in the morning. 

“Our kids are lucky to have us,” she quips and he smiles, leaning in to kiss her again. 

His watch beeps as he pulls, indicating that it was midnight, and he smiles at her, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks, “Merry Christmas sweetheart.” 

She pulls back just enough to speak, her nose knocking against his as she replies, “Merry Christmas, baby,” she kisses him again, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.” 

She kisses him, her hand tangled in his hair as she holds him in place before she rests her cheek against his chest, curling herself up against him as she sighs contentedly. She turns her head to look at the princess castle, her eyebrows furrowing as she finally takes in the size of it. 

“Aaron?” 

“Yes, Em?” 

“How the hell are we going to move the castle to the living room?” 

He tightens his hold on her for a second, and she feels more than hears his resigned sigh as it passes from his chest to hers. 

“Well shit.”