#not really I'm just having a mean little laugh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

embbarnes · 2 days ago

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Goddd sorry this took me so long to reblog! I read this three times and I absolutely adore it. Dofp Logan is one of my favorite eras. I love his attitude and look throughout the film. I was so excited this was the version you went with!!

More below the cut 💕

“Don’t use so much force.” You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault. You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him. You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass. A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

This entire bit is perfect. When I was a kid, I had anger management problems. I couldn't really interact with a lot of people because of it so it made socialization hard for me. I really like how you wrote the reader in this one, I can resonate with them.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

Logan, I hope you know, if I had pyrokinesis...that's the first thing I'm doing.

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs. His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly. You're putty in his hands. “I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

SCREAMING at this part 😍😩 I love, love, LOVE how you describe smut scenes sm.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator. As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away. Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

YES....YESSSSS. I love when things like this happen in fics.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.” “It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—” You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over. “Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

I'm always a big sucker for love-hate or relationships where the pairing isn't super fond of one another at first. The tension builds so well and I love how you incorporate the mutation with their emotions. Because fire is incredibly emotion-motivated, so these little hints are absolutely perfect.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his. “Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

This would actually make me so mad if I was already irritated 😭 Logan knows just how to get under her skin lmao

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath. “Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water. It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

I really liked this bit. It begins to show more depth between the reader and Logan. I admire how you can subtly plant these little seeds throughout your fics, it makes them feel more immersive.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk. “I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble. “No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

You know, technically, she could harness the heat to make a new glass from scratch, Charles. I feel like he'd value something made like that. I can imagine the classrooms full of drawings by the children.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself. “I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—” “What is it?” you implore. His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs – “It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

This situation is 100% believable. Things like this absolutely happen and you set it up perfectly. I love the approach and how you describe the fog, how it effects her body and makes her feel all the things at once.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?” Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

Logan knows how to drive me insane holy shit.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist. He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink. As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

I can literally see his expression rn.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth. His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

This would drive me INSANE.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows. “S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.” You aren’t going to argue with that. You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices. “Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.” “Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—” He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

Girl you're literally killing me 😭😩

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

The sliver of scent I can get from him ughhh that's such a good combo.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath. “What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?” “No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—” “What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest. “I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.” You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more. “I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

LMAO this was so funny and such a good ending!! I loveeed this fic so much! It was so well done, just like all your other stuff! You did such a good job with the personification of everyone and I loved all the dialogue with reader and Logan.

Perfect, as always 💕

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

#fic rec #flowersforbucky

1K notes · View notes

otomiyaa · 2 days ago

Text

The Spider

Jayce x Viktor

A/N: Remember that lee Viktor poll, well this was actually the runner-up, hehe. Guess I finished it too.

Summary: Jayce is intrigued by random thoughts entering his own mind. Such as... Is Viktor ticklish? (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.5K

A chain of thoughts, everyone knows them right? Like one thought leading to another thought, and so on, and so on.

The way Jayce would think of having some dinner, which obviously made him think of food, which would remind him of sweets, leading him to thoughts about his childhood, about sneaking into the kitchen with Caitlyn to steal a little snack, resulting in thoughts about Caitlyn, and that one time he was invited to dinner with the Kirammans, but he despised the soup they made, so he had pretended to feel sick, and they forced him into bed and fed him some medicine that was even more awful, so awful that he actually threw up for real and they thought he was really sick.

Throwing up actually made him think of food again, and what he should have for dinner after finishing work, and so he would be right back where his thought chain started. Or spider. He liked to refer to it as the spider of the mind. And truth be told, his spider had kind of gotten out of control this time.

Because right now a certain question was randomly spinning in his mind, lost in a web of thoughts which he knew that his spider was to blame for somehow. He just had no idea where the thought actually came from. Didn't matter. He needed to ask Viktor this question, right now.

"Viktor. Are you ticklish?"

They had been the first spoken words in a while. The first sound to disrupt the endless sounds of scribbles on the chalkboard.

Despite Jayce's sudden question, Viktor still appeared to be concentrating and didn't look away from the board.

"Depends."

Oh. Having expected an immediate 'no', or perhaps no answer at all, Jayce put down his work and now turned his full focus to his intriguing partner.

"So that's not a no then? You're ticklish somewhere."

"Like I said, it depends."

"On what?"

"Things."

Viktor paused and continued to stare at his formulas on the board. "Like where and how the tickle would be, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

Viktor was so serious in his answer to such a goofy question. Jayce chuckled and strode towards him.

"I ask because I'm curious."

Viktor didn't really seem too cautious even when Jayce stood by his side. He probably didn't expect Jayce would jump on him to tickle him out of the blue, which was actually not what Jayce had intended to do at first. But now that they were seriously discussing the topic, he couldn't deny it was a very tempting thing to do.

"And why is that?" Viktor asked. Jayce probably would've told him if he knew, but he had forgotten why he actually felt curious. Spider-thing, eh.

"Just because. If I poke you, will it tickle?"

"I don't think so. Do not try me." It was the first time Viktor sounded careful after being so honest with him. Jayce couldn't help but laugh in response.

"If it won't tickle, there's no harm in trying right?" He poked Viktor in the side. To his surprise and disappointment there was indeed no response.

"I am almost finished. You are distracting me," Viktor said, still trying to figure out his scribblings on the board. Jayce didn't sense the seriousness in his warning and stepped closer.

"You can finish later. A little squeeze, would that feel ticklish?" Jayce reached out and hesitated, but when Viktor didn't even budge, he lightly squeezed his side.

There was no response again. What! "It tickled," Viktor replied bluntly. Jayce frowned.

"Yet, you didn't laugh."

"It still felt ticklish. Me being ticklish does not mean I will laugh when I get tickled. If that's what you wanted to know, you should have asked 'will you laugh if you feel ticklish', instead."

Jayce was the one who was closest to laughing. Viktor was too much like a scientist. Even with a topic like this, he was so serious and thoughtful.

"If that was my question, wouldn't your answer still be the same?" Jayce asked.

"The answer would have been no. I feel ticklish, but I do not laugh."

Oh. Oh oh. Lies. Jayce was sure of it.

"Really?" He stood behind Viktor and lightly ran his fingers up and down Viktor's sides. Finally a little sound, albeit a little odd.

"Hnguh!"

It wasn't a laugh, but it was definitely something.

Viktor tensed up but continued writing. "Jayce, I am warning you," he said, but Jayce still felt that if Viktor really meant it, he would have done more to stop him.

"What about this?" Jayce ran one finger down Viktor's spine and - woah! Viktor dropped his chalk and stumbled forward as a funny mewl could be heard from him.

"Jayce!" he warned, turning around quickly, but before he could do anything, Jayce tried to tickle him again by squeezing both sides.

"So? Ticklish?" Jayce asked, blessed to hear some remarkable noises as Viktor squirmed and danced between him and the board.

"O-obviously! B-but I'm n-not laughing!"

Jayce learned something new about Viktor right here, which was his persistence, defiance and also his unsuccessful ability to lie.

"Really? So you mean to say, you're still not laughing?" Jayce kept up the tickle attack until finally Viktor's noises started to sound more like giggles.

"Jahayce! Noho- now's not the tihime!"

Viktor laughed as if any other moment would have been the time. Smirking, Jayce carefully guided Viktor away from the board so they wouldn't mess up their hard work.

"You are ticklish, and you are laughing, Viktor. You could've just said yes."

"Yehes ihis not the ahanswer!" Viktor laughed. Jayce felt intrigued with Viktor's reactions. He was actually right. Not everything he tried seemed to tickle as much. Various different touches in the same spot would result in different sounds, and only less than half of his attempts would get out a 'haha' instead of a funny 'hrmh!'.

Still, one thing was for certain. Now that Viktor was finally letting him hear some laughter, he could hardly stop it even if he tried to.

"Jahayce!" Viktor tried to be firm with him, but he was just one adorable giggly mess. Jayce smiled fondly.

"Just a little more. Then we'll take a break," he insisted. Despite his verbal protests, Viktor's physical protests were still very minimal. He had managed to grab his cane, but instead of using it to beat Jayce the hell up, he simply gripped it and leaned on it while he continued to laugh.

He also tried to catch Jayce's hands, just weakly, but other than that he didn't try to get away too much.

"Jahahayce- reheally!" Viktor giggled, making the cutest little dances in response to Jayce's playful tickle attack.

Heh. Jayce could only guess that either he didn't mind that much, or it didn't tickle enough for him to make a big scene.

When he finally stopped, they were both breathing heavily and grinning like two immature youngsters.

"T-there. Happy now?" Viktor asked. Jayce shrugged.

"Very happy. Why wouldn't I be? That was the first time I heard you laugh, Viktor," he said. If he wasn't mistaken, he noticed a little blush as Viktor leaned on his cane and turned away from him.

"Why did you start this anyway?"

"Hmm?" Jayce hummed.

Viktor sighed. "We were working. Why suddenly ask if I am ticklish?"

Oh. Good question. Good question Viktor. Jayce actually wondered too.

"If I tell you about the spider in my mind, would you understand what I am talking about?"

"I think so. Do go on," Viktor said. And while Jayce explained about the spider first, he tried to think back of the source of his tickle-related thoughts. He had to try and think in reverse to find out.

Ticklish Viktor would have obviously come from just any thought about tickling. Tickling would make him think of laughter, which would make him think of a joke? Joke... No, dead end.

Laughter might have also come from the thought of.... smiling. A smile made a person pretty, was his first thought. People always looked better when they smiled. Pretty or handsome. When he thought of handsome, Jayce thought of... Oh.

Jayce blushed in realization. This web of thoughts was smaller than he thought at first. He remembered now.

It was because Jayce had briefly stared at Viktor while he was writing on the board earlier. Thought he was pretty, wondered what it would be like if he smiled more often - or in fact, laughed, because it'd definitely make him even prettier. Which obviously caused him to think of tickling, and the question of all questions, whether Viktor was ticklish at all. Heh. He had his answer now.

"Well?" Viktor asked when Jayce had stopped talking.

"Hmmm. Never mind," Jayce said without admitting any of that to Viktor, and he merely started to tickle him again, causing the most beautiful sounds of laughter to be heard, and the prettiest smile to be seen. Jayce couldn't blame his mind for suddenly coming up with thoughts like that. Viktor was very handsome indeed.

He could only thank the funny little spider in his head for this random gift of the day.

"Jaycehehe nohoho!"

"See? You're laughing again."

"You've mahade your pohoint!"

"But you didn't."

Right, the gift of ticklish Viktor and his precious laugh to treasure forever.

#arcane #jayvik #jayce x viktor #tickling #tickle fic #otomiya!writes #lee!viktor #ler!jayce

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hopleii · 3 days ago

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how they act when they're drunk. . .

content: jean x gn!reader, eren x gn!reader, armin x gn!reader, erwin x gn!reader (seperate), fluff, not proofread, tiny bit ooc (first time writing for these characters), alcohol mention, slightly suggestive on erwin's part, lowercase intentional

a/n: OMGOMGOMGOMG first time writing for aot kinda scaredddd, did u guys know I binge watched aot for 3 weeks because the movie is coming out and i never finished it in s1 back in 2021? omg. i forgot just how much i loved jean and armin. RAHHHH

JEAN KIRSTEIN

jean would be the clingy type of drunk. whether its just you two or with other people, he needs to have you in arms reach 24/7. going to the bathroom? okay, he's going with you. need a glass of water? he'll walk you to the cupboard. want to talk with your friends? he'll talk with them too!

when its just the two of you, he's not afraid to be clingy and openly hugs you or touches you. its just you two, right?

when its with other people, he's more careful, but it's still painfully obvious and embarrassing. he tries to brush it off with excuses like "i just don't want them to be alone", "what if they get lost?"

"jean, i have to go to the bathroom."

he groans dramatically, rolling his eyes and pouting petulantly. "but what if you get lost? you never know what could happen!"

you roll your eyes at his slurred words, but deep down, you find his intoxicated state adorable. when you finally give in (he totally started throwing a tantrum) he follows you to the bathroom and he just lingers outside, pacing around and checking up on you every millisecond.

"are you done?"

"i'm fixing my hair, jean."

"is it fixed now?"

"patience, my dear."

"damn it..."

EREN YEAGER

eren would be the talkative type of drunk. when he's intoxicated, he mostly starts to open up about random things. how he feels about the dish you cooked weeks ago, how he hates how he styled his hair that night, etc.

but as time goes on and he drinks a few more bottles, he starts opening up about deeper topics: how he misses his mom, how he thinks the world is a rotten place, how much you mean to him and more!

he'll play it off with his usual bravado, though. but he is literally the definition of "drunk words are sober thoughts."

you and eren are at a small gathering with friends, and the alcohol has started to loosen him up a little, becoming more talkative and loud than usual. after too many drinks, he's on the couch, words slurred and eyes too heavy to even look at you. he pulls you aside, arm slung around your shoulders.

"you know," he starts, his voice quieter than when he was ranting earlier. "i don't think I've ever told you how much you mean to me." his words slur slightly, but you recognize the sincerity in his voice.

you chuckle lightly, "you've told me before, eren, a lot, actually."

he shakes his head, cupping your face with his calloused hands, "i did? well, you just mean a lot to me. i don't know what i'd do without you, you know?"

you blink at his sincerity, surprised by his openness, but when he sees this, he grins. "i just wanted you to know, okay? 'cause you keep forgetting."

ARMIN ARLERT

armin gets shy and giddy (or "kilig) when intoxicated. occasionally getting bashful but constantly expressing his admiration for you. he has the biggest crush on you whenever he's drunk! he's the type to act like a highschool boy in love when he's drunk with you, all puppy love-ish and giddy. he gets giggly and tends to ramble, sometimes too much.

it's a quiet evening, and after a few drinks, armin's smile gets a little wider as the alcohol starts kicking in. he looks over at you, leaning in with a slight blush on his face.

"you know," he says slowly, his words mixing with his giggles, "I've always thought you were really amazing. I mean, super amazing, but now that I've had a few drinks, you're, like...the most amaaazingg person who ever lived."

you couldn't help but laugh, taking away the wine glass from his hand. "you've had too much to drink, armin."

armin shakes his head insistently, "no, no! it's just...you're so smart and so pretty, and you're so kind too..."

he stands up, moving his chair beside yours, leaning on your shoulder. "you're amazing..."

ERWIN SMITH

erwin, the level-headed and composed commander, is the type of person to get extremely relaxed. too relaxed. of course, everyone wants their hard-working commander to let loose a little bit, but when alcohol gets mixed in his system, all responsibility seems to slide off his shoulders.

he starts to crack lighthearted jokes, telling all sorts of silly stories, and starts to flirt a bit more with you.

the survey corps had just wrapped up a long day of strategizing and reviewing reports, and everyone decided a victory celebration should be held. during this celebration, however, erwin had downed too many drinks, and his usual composure and stern attitude was slowly slipping away. you and the rest of the squad were gathered around the briefing table, preparing to discuss tomorrow's agenda and finishing any leftover work.

the room was filled with serious chatter, discussing and planning, until erwin stood up, swaying slightly. "erwin...?" you tilt your head, thinking you or the squad suggested something wrong.

"you all," he began, his words slightly slurred, "all you do is talk about work...we've all worked hard, haven't we?" his voice was a bit louder than usual, more booming and firm. the room stopped what they were doing, exchanging confused glances and looking at you.

you shrug your shoulders, also perplexed by your lover's behavior. he waved a lazy hand in the air, sitting back down on his chair, "forget all of this...just do it tomorrow."

and that was enough for you to know that erwin smith was completely and utterly drunk. “but erwin, we still have important reports to finalize and the logistics for the supply run tomorrow…”

"we've been doing that all week, my love! you're all telling me a few more hours of paperwork is more important than a peaceful night’s rest?"

you watched your lover with growing disbelief, this was a side of erwin that even you haven't seen. laid-back, relaxed, and...lazy?

"erwin, are you seriously drunk...?"

"maybe it's time to stop being so serious, hm? i happen to like it when you're happy and having fun, my love." he whispers into your ear, dismissing the others afterwards.

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k1mbe3rly · 1 day ago

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Hii! Idk if u do angst so I'm so sorry if it's a lot it's been on my mind all dayy! (This is a se-mi fic btw)

So what if reader was in love with se-mi, but se-mi tends to hook up with others, and reader walks into one of her hook ups, gets into an argument and confesses mid argument, and se-mi rejects her and tells her to get out her face, and so reader does just that but reader can never fully move on from se-mi and she has to sit back and watch as se-mi flirts with other girls (so so sorry if it's too long!)

ofc! i do angst as welll, ⚠️but lowkey kinda bad 😢 sorry if it is, it’s my first time writing angst 💔⚠️

I love you, i’m sorry

warnings: none, fem reader

You and Se-mi has been friends ever since middle school, you started developing a small on her, you never told her but you did try making it obvious to her, by flirting with her, she would flirt back as well.

Yall were at her house just talking, there was a party going on later so yall were just waiting for that time to come, you had gotten ready, wearing a cute outfit/ dress, once you came out the bathroom you heard a low whistle, “Woww sexy huh?” she said

You blushed a bit and chuckled a bit, “For you of course..” you said half playful and half truth. She just laughed a bit, you knew she was into girls so that’s why you had a good chance with her but the only problem was she was kinda a player..

You’ve seen her with many diffrent girls but never you. Some she referred as one nightstands and some just flings. Once she was done with them she would block them like always, she never really care for there feelings or anything.

Later on yall arrived at the party, loud music fillings your ears, people drinking and walking around filled the house, she grabbed your hand and helped you thru the crowd, once yall reached a group of friends she kept her hand on yours.

“Hey i’ll be back okay?” You heard se-mi whispered to you, you looked at her as she smiled at you, you smiled back and nodded as she begins walking past the crowd. “When are you gonna tell her?” Your friend spoke.

“What? what do you mean..” you said quickly, “Your little crush on her” Friend 1 mentioned, “I don’t have a crush on her? where did you get that.” you said defensively, “Well i was just saying..jee, no need to be so quick about it” friend 1 spoke again, “oh.. sorry.” you said. The party went on as you waited for Se-mi

10 minutes flew by and she hasn’t came, 20 than 30 passed as you decided to go looking for her, you looked and walked around for a moment until you saw her one of her other friends, you went up to her “Hey have you seen Se-mi?” you asked “Uhhh i think she went upstairs to take care of something or to use the bathroom” She said, “Oh okay thanks” you spoke

You than made your way thru the crowd again finding the stairs, you walked up seeing many doors, “oof..” you muttered as you decided to go with your gut and opening a door, you looked in and nothing, you closed it and going towards another one, again you opened it and nothing, you went to the last door that was at the end of the hallway

You put your hand on the door knob, a small knot growing in your stomach, like your nervous or something.

You opened it and looked over to see Se-mi, she was making out with another girl, She was taking off her jacket while making out with her as you widen your eyes a bit, the creak of the floorboard caught there attention as they looked over.

“Oh- jesus you scared me y/n..” se-mi spoke as you stared for a moment “Yea. Your friend told me you were using the restroom” you spoke a bit sternly “Right..sorry i took so long” she spoke again, “Uh yea, not suprised this isn’t really the first time.” You spoke still stern, She noticed your tone and raised an eyebrow “Yea? are you oka-.” she started speaking but you cut her off “Se-mi i’m getting tired of this. I’m done with you doing this so many times!” you quickly spoke

“What? I’m sorry i didn’t realized it concerned you so much?” she said back with a bit of annoyance “It’s not that it concerns me! it’s just the fact you keep doing this over and over again, when will it stop!?” you yelled slightly as she got up, “It’s my life y/n, i can do whatever the hell i want without your permission.” she said with a bit harsher tone, “Why are you trying to control her so bad?” the girl that sat on the bed watching us said “Shut the hell up! stay out of this!” you yelled at the girl as she was stunned, “Hey. don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Se-mi said raising her voice at you a bit, you stared at her stunned, “Seriously? why are you defending her? i thought she was just one of your hook ups?” you said back

“Yea well maybe i want something more with her” Se-mi said back more serious than ever. “But what about what i want?! you always get your way Se-mi.” you responded back, “Well what do you want y/n?! huh? what is it so i can do it for you since apparently i get what i want!” “I WANT YOU SE-MI!”

you quickly went silent realizing what you said, your eyes widen as your hands went into a fist, She stared at you intensely as you wanted to look away but couldn’t, you waited for a response but nothing.

“Get out.” were the only words that fell from her mouth, “What?” you said in a bit of hurt and confusion, “I said, GET OUT!” she yelled “What don’t you understand about that?! I’m sorry but i don’t fucking like you! i never did!” she yelled once again.

Your eyes stinged a bit feeling your tears behind your eyes starting to come to the front “You have to understand se-mi! please don’t do this!” you begin explaining, she scoffed and pushed you a bit, “Just get out y/n” she said rubbing her forehead a bit, “Se-mi..” you said as you stumbled and took a step closer “I love you.” you spoke. Her eyes flared up, “Get the FUCK OUT OF MY FACE! I DONT FUCKING LOVE OR LIKE YOU! GET THAT THRU YOUR SKULL.” she said yelling at you and point at her head a bit, tears formed in your eyes as you stayed quiet, you than walked away slamming the door, tears already falling down your face as you left the party.

There was nothing you could do to make someone love you. You could only watch and hope.

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #se mi #player 380 #player 380 x reader #squid game fic #squid game fanfic #lesbian #squid game angst #squid game headcanons

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zepskies · 11 hours ago

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Thank you sooo much, my lovely!! 😘💕

Now diving into the rest of your amazing review! 😍

firstly I wanna say i love the phrase thicc thirty lol 😭 secondly I loved how each character was written, it felt true to their nature for sure 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽 as per usual of course :p💞

Hhaha right?! I borrowed that from Lizzo. 😝 And aw thank you!! you know I try to do my best to keep these guys in character.

deans made me so softt🥺 i’m always a sucker for person a noticing person b is off and then comforting them <333 it fills my heart with warmth every time I read it 💗 and the reassurance was lovely!

Girl SAME. I love me some sweet hurt/comfort, so I'm very glad you liked it here too. 💗

oh I felt this 😕 comparison is the thief of joy indeed, but it’s haaard sometimes :’) I mean i’m glad that by now adult me has accepted and acknowledged metabolism differences...for the most part lmao. but it’s definitely taken a lot or time 🫠

Ooh I've missed hearing that turn of phrase! Such an elegant one, and appropriate here loll. I mean yes, I've accepted the metabolism thing too, but it doesn't stop me from envying the perpetually thin. 🤪

oh beau ❤️‍🩹 as wonderful as these all are I think beau’s was my favorite this time around 🫶🏽 it’s so easy to fall into routine and let time slip by :/

I thought this one would fit with Beau especially because he has so much responsibility on his shoulders, and more that which he puts on himself. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 Honestly I think Beau was my favorite this time too to write. Maybe because I've been rewatching Big Sky season 3. 😝

it’s breaking mine too beau, fix it!😭 i wanted to give her a hug so bad lol. completely understandable where she’s coming from :(

Ooh he will! 😏 I'm honestly thinking of creating a full one-shot fic out of this one because I feel like I could've explored more with it.

girl same, call me olaf the way i’d melt for him 🤠 now where can I acquire a man like this 🫠 also that analogy, loveee love 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽

omg right?? I'd melt for this cowboy sheriff on sight. 🫠🫠

(and also thank you!! I struggled on the "breath of life" analogy, thinking it might be too cliche lol)

(I realized as i’m writing out this review, I may be a little biased because beau’s hc reminds me of the comforts of home 😅 I guess I have a thing for person a neglects person b non maliciously but has to make up for it too lolll <3)

Ooh yeah that's a super interesting parallel you noticed! Maybe I just have a thing for writing that trope? Non-malicious being the key word there. Oh, Sam (and oh Beau). 😩

meanwhile ben makes me laugh, he’s so direct lmfaoooo

YUP loll Ben doesn't mess around. (He doesn't have the patience.) 😂

like ben pleaseeee you did not have to add that ‘now’ 🤣

IKR? Like SIR. Pls. 😂✋🏽

and he’s so serious too 😭 such a romantic :p

loveeeee this, not just for the spice lol but how he didn’t go all stubborn macho man mode — while he’s not familiar with the new trends and he doesn’t think she needs to change anything, it’s sweet to see he’d be supportive of her regardless of what she chooses to do to make herself feel better — and I only say that due to his outdated mindset 😅💞

Oh yeah, I kind of surprised myself by writing that for his HC. I wondered if it verged on out of character, but I felt like he'd be like, "idc, do what you want, but I don't think you needa do a damn thing" -- type of deal. 😂💚

these headcanons were so wonderful <33 plus sized girly myself, I definitely understand the struggle with those negative thoughts & feelings that can really just take over randomly :/ soft and steamy reassurances sound like an absolute dream 💕🫠 these were so good lovely!🤍🫂

Aww my fellow plus-sized queen, thank you so much!! It's definitely hitting more lately for me. Since I've had some ongoing medical issues, I haven't been able to workout like I used to, so I've gained a bit more from what I'd lost. 🫠 But it's ok! Soon I'll be 100% and able to resume my routine while also not "starving myself" lmao. I'm so glad you enjoyed these admittedly self-indulgent HCs. 😘💕

Headcanon: Body Insecurity/Appreciation

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @roseblue373. 💜 It's a special one to me personally, being plus-sized myself and having gone through my share of insecurities. Wish I had one of these guys to make it better lol!~

Prompt/Request: Great job with the latest Dean/Beau/Ben reacts vignettes! I'd love to see one where reader has put on weight and isn't happy with their body, and how each would make her feel better!! IF the muse agrees, of course! ❤️

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to your body insecurity.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Established relationship, body insecurity (but also body appreciation), thicc thirty, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, spiciness/smuttishness.

Dean Winchester

You've started breezing past mirrors when you get out of the shower.

Because if you catch sight of your own reflection, you can't help but utter a sigh, your lips dipping into a frown.

In the privacy of the room you share with Dean in the bunker, you take a risk in unwrapping the towel from your body in front of the mirror.

You inspect yourself with growing dejection, noting all the places that are rounder, heavier, less firm than they used to be.

Looks like no amount of running down leads and killing monsters has been enough to keep you in shape.

Too much shitty fast food, too many times you indulged yourself with snacks and dessert alongside your foodie boyfriend.

"What'cha doin', sweetheart?" Dean asks. He steps into the room while wiping donut icing from the corner of his mouth.

Speak of the devil.

When Dean finally catches you frowning at yourself in the mirror, you inhale sharply and close the towel back up.

"Nothing. Just need to get dressed," you reply quickly. "Shower's open."

You try to offer him a smile, despite the pang of jealousy when you eye him.

He gave you the first chance at the shower after the latest case wrapped up, so he's still wearing most of his FBI suit, sans jacket. The white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, a few days of scruff neatly trimmed across his cheeks.

The man can cram an entire pizza down his gullet and wash it down with three slices of apple pie, not to mention countless beers. And still, Dean stays looking downright edible.

By comparison, you feel...fat. Like you've let yourself go.

You turn away from him to grab your well-worn sweatpants and an oversized shirt; you plan to change alone in the bathroom, but Dean grabs your arm.

"Who says you need to get dressed?" he says, popping his brows with a suggestive grin. He slips his arms around your waist, but your instinct is to shy away from his hold. You chuckle awkwardly and avoid his now curious gaze.

"Sorry, babe. Um...I'm wiped. I just want to get to bed," you say.

But Dean isn't fooled. His spidey sense is tingling, and his gut is almost never wrong.

His hand slides down your arm and grasps your hand, tugging you back into his arms. You utter a little gasp, but you ultimately smile at his familiar grin. There's a perceptive gleam in his eyes though.

"You know, seems like you've been pretty wiped lately," he says, raising a brow. "It's been a while since we, uh..."

He waggles his brows playfully, squeezing your hips. You want to smile, but you can't let yourself. You can't quite look at him either.

For Dean, it's another glaring red flag. His lips form a frown, and he dips his chin to find your eyes.

"Hey," he says. "What's goin' on? Talk to me."

His tone is so sincere, you have to blink against the sting of tears. Your lower lip wobbles, and Dean frowns in earnest. He presses a hand to your cheek and gets you to look at him with your watery eyes.

"Sweetheart, you gotta tell me what's wrong," he says, more gently, but serious.

Eventually, you're able to get it out. You can't bear the thought of him touching you, because lately, you can't even bear looking at yourself.

"I know I've been gaining weight, I just..." your voice breaks, and you gesture haphazardly at your body. "I'd get it if you're not really into this right now."

Dean's heart clenches. He's downright shocked at your confession, and more than a little disheartened. He presses a hand to your cheek and guides you to look at him.

"All right, hold up just one damn minute."

His calloused fingers gently brush away your tears, but his hands keep moving, slowly traveling down your body. They slide down your bare arms, skimming the sides of your breasts.

Your breath hitches. Your hand is still fisted over your beating heart, keeping your towel closed. His hands continue to move, molding to the curve of your waist over the fuzzy fabric.

"I'll admit, we've been pretty busy lately with everything we've got going on. But if you think that means I'm ever not into this delectable, sexy, voluptuous, goddess body you got rockin' the house?" he says, grinning that utterly Dean grin of his.

You bite your lip against a bubble of laughter. He's too fucking much sometimes.

Dean tugs you closer, until your hips fit snugly against his through his slacks. His tall, broad frame crowds you. His lips skim your cheek, then over your lips in a tease.

He squeezes the flesh of your hips, tender and sensuous.

Your heart flutters at the feeling.

"Mmm, I like you nice and soft," he murmurs against your cheek, close to your ear. "Feels that much better when I fuck you."

A small gasp gets trapped in your throat, while the gravel depths in his voice go straight to your pussy in a pulsing throb of warmth.

By the time he claims your lips in a devouring kiss, you're all too willing to let him peel your towel open, drop it to the floor, and guide you backwards onto the bed.

There he'll take his time, forging yet another mental map of every plush square inch of you.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a busy man. You understand that.

As Sheriff, his job demands a lot from him. He's also a father and has an ex-wife to contend with. (You knew that going in, and you've come to love Emily too.)

However, you can't help but start to take it personally when your sex life begins to suffer. He's often claimed being tired...but there's another suspicion that's been taking root in your mind, feeding your doubts and insecurities about how your boyfriend sees you, and about how you see yourself.

When you slip into bed at night, a kiss goodnight is all he gives you lately, before he's sighing deeply and closing his eyes, his soft snores soon filling the room.

One night, you try touching his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his bearded cheek. He hums at the pleasant feeling.

"You wanna...?" You trail the question in his ear, pressing more sweet kisses down his neck.

"Aw, sweetheart," he groans. "I'd like to, but I think I'd just smother you. I'm about to pass out."

You huff a laugh. You teasingly walk two fingers across his chest. "What if I make it easy for you?"

You shift onto your side. Resting a hand on his chest, you lean down to kiss him. He hums at the softness of it, but the more passion you try to imbue into each new kiss, Beau isn't as responsive as you would like. Eventually, you stop all together.

You frown, becoming disheartened. "You're not into this, I guess."

He opens his tired eyes, gazes up at you in apology. He opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it.

"You know it's been a month since we've had sex," you say.

Beau frowns, sliding a hand up your back. Only now does he notice, with appreciation, the familiar silky négligée you're wearing.

"Nah, that doesn't sound right," he says.

"Well, it is," you say. "I know you say you're tired, but I mean, you've had this job for as long as I've known you, Beau." Your eyes fall away from him. "So is the job, or...is it me?"

Beau's brows furrow. "Now wait a minute."

The mere thought dredges up what's been plaguing your mind recently, and it has your throat tightening. Tears of embarrassment and upset well up in your eyes, no matter how much you try to push it down.

You push away from him and turn away, crossing your arms. You try not to look at yourself in what used to be your favorite lingerie.

You can't stand the extra weight you've put on, mostly in your hips and ass, but in your middle and arms too.

You've gone through your own stress at work this year, with less and less time to try and take care of yourself, along with making sure Emily gets to and from school, cooking for the three of you, going to PTA meetings when Carla can't make it (since Beau often can't), and every other proverbial hat you wear.

Beau follows you, sitting up and laying a hand on your back. "Sweetheart--"

"I know I've put on a few. Hell, more than a few," you admit, hastily wiping under your eyes. "God, I can't even look at myself right now, let alone have you--"

"Hey. You stop right there," Beau says, more firmly. He gets you to turn around with his hand on your shoulder. He doesn't like the way you're curled in on yourself, as if hiding your body from his gaze.

That, and the sight of your tears damn well break his heart.

He cups the side of your face gently and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, followed closely by your lips.

You don't want to melt, but you just can't help it. You cling to the front of his shirt and lean into his kiss, like you've been lost in the desert, and his lips hold the breath of life.

You almost don't realize it when his arms slip around your waist. He earns a surprised yelp from you when he gathers you close against his chest and rolls you underneath him.

You land against the pillows in a huff. You stare up at his playful smile, his green eyes glinting with amusement, with fondness, and also with desire as they roam over your breasts, barely contained by dark green satin and lace.

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he says. His voice is a low, earthy drawl as his gaze rakes over you. His big hand runs down your side and over your hip, then down your bare thigh, squeezing soft, tender flesh. He slips that hand under the satin night gown.

His hand can't span your entire thigh, but it's not for lack of trying. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm at the way he looks at you, your breath hitching when his thumb dips between your legs, brushing against the damp, silky fabric of your panties.

"It's not because I don't find you sexy as hell. Believe me, darlin', I do," he says. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, especially when you're all laid out for me here."

And he means what he says. You know it by the hardness you feel pressing against your hip. You slip your fingers into his hair with a sigh.

He bows his head to press kisses along your neck; down and down, he noses at the thin strap of your night gown. His path of kisses continue, and he indulges himself by dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts.

"Filling out this lacy little thing so nice," he murmurs into your skin.

Your upset has turned to abject relief, but you still have to blink away the remaining urge to cry.

You let out a slightly tremulous breath.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask.

Beau pauses. He pulls away, just so he can look up and meet your eyes. He still finds insecurity in yours, so he meets you with a kiss filled with heat and intent.

He's now wide awake. He plans to take his sweet time taking you apart, inch by inch.

In fact, in the back of his mind, he also plans to do better about letting his deputies help him out more at the precint so he can have a better work-life balance.

(Because going a whole damn month without the taste of you is "no bueno," in his words.)

Soldier Boy (Ben)

The man may not be very patient, or particularly perceptive, but he's not an idiot.

At least, not about sex.

He knows that you've been feigning tiredness, and generally avoiding his touch.

What's strange is that you haven't been avoiding him. You still cook for him, still share conversation with him, still insist on having him spoon you on the couch while catching him up on the past four decades of TV shows and movies.

But when he begins to sneak a hand under your oversized shirt (an old one of Ben's), caressing your hip, then dipping down to your softer stomach on the way to your panties, breaking your concentration from the movie as unease laces down your spine.

You grab his wrist on reflex, instead lacing your fingers together.

"What's the matter now?" he asks.

You look over your shoulder at him and find him frowning at you, a divot between his brows. You don't manage to hold his gaze for long.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just, um, tired."

Ben doesn't believe you, and he's direct when he calls you out on it.

Reluctant to put what you've been feeling into words, you pause the movie and leave the couch (and him) behind.

Ben is annoyed enough to follow you (and underneath, he hides an edge of concern). The conflict leads into the bedroom, where you're still unwilling to open up.

He finally stops you from walking away from him, pinning you against the dresser by your hips. He practically looms over you as he demands an answer. He knows you're hiding something — something that's had you reluctant to let him touch you.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" he says, a raw edge of warning in his tone. "What, are you fucking somebody else?"

Shock flashes in your eyes, making you angry. "What? No!"

"Well, you seem to be getting your fill somewhere, and it hasn't been from me--"

"Are you fucking serious? I'm not..." Your lips purse. You're actually hurt that he would hurl that accusation your way--and it couldn't be farther from the truth.

You tug your long shirt downwards and cross your arms, but it's more like you're hugging yourself, shielding your body away.

Ben's brows furrow a little bit more.

Eventually you get it out; you haven't been feeling up to being intimate because you're having a hard time even looking at yourself lately.

"I know I need to, um, get back in shape," you say, taking in a shaky breath to try and steady yourself. Your throat constricts, the beginnings of tears stinging your eyes. You want to look at anywhere but at Ben. "I just haven't had much time, with everything going on. But Annie gave me this guide on some different diets, like intermittent fasting, Keto--"

"Fasting," Ben intones. "What, you wanna fucking starve yourself? What the fuck is Keto?"

You sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"No, not starve myself. And Keto's just..." The idea of trying to explain the new diet craze to your boyfriend is too daunting a task to consider. "Never mind. The point is, I have a plan. My hips, my thighs, my ass--"

Ben squeezes your hips at the mention of them. He happens to like the softness.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra. So fucking what?" he says, his voice deep and exacting as his gaze roams over your body. "Just gives me more to hold onto when I'm fucking you."

You utter a shocked laugh. "Ben!"

He grins lazily, and he turns you this way and that, admiring you from all angles. In his eyes, he doesn't find a side he doesn't like. You can't help but blush hotly under his gaze.

"Sweetheart, do whatever you want if it makes you feel good. But you don't need to starve yourself." His hands move to your ass, squeezing a bit harder on the plush flesh.

A yelp escapes you; he's pressing into you from the front as well, and you feel him heavy and already half-hard against you. You grab onto his arms for stability as your breaths quicken.

His attitude kind of surprises you, even though it soothes the frayed, insecure part of your soul that wants to be as beautiful and attractive in his eyes as he is in yours.

Ben is literally a super soldier. You're actually kind of jealous. The man can drug and booze hard and eat whatever the hell he wants, but his super metabolism just seems to absorb it into his washboard abs.

(The more you think about it, the more you want to smack him.)

Nothing about him isn't hard and lean, muscle and strength.

Only his hands have a measure of gentleless when they're holding you like this.

"I've just got so many stretch marks now," you begin to complain, in an emotional whisper.

He snorts. "And? You think it's anything I haven't seen? I'm not afraid of a little cellulite either."

At that, your head tilts in consideration. Butcher's Granny Fucker remark comes to mind. You bite your lip against a smirk.

Ben crooks a curled finger under your chin. He guides you to meet his eyes, before he lures you into a lusty kiss.

It's somewhat rough because of his beard, but you still smile afterwards, leaning against him now.

"Ain't nothing about you that I can't handle," he adds, all smirking and cocky. To prove his point, he hooks those strong hands behind your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders. From there, he makes quick work of ridding the oversized shirt from your body, revealing you to the cool air and his hot gaze.

You take his face in your hands and bring him in for an even steamier kiss, your heart lighter and trembling with anticipation.

You've held yourself from him long enough, Ben thinks, and he has every intention of devouring you right on your old dresser -- before you two even get to the bed.

AN: 😮‍💨 I feel like each of these could've been even longer with their own one-shot loll. I wrote the Midnight Espresso-verse for Dean, partially to explore what his relationship would be like with a plus-sized reader. 💖💖

Let me know which one you liked most this time!

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#reader appreciation #lovely review!! 💕💕#lovely mutuals #headcanon: body insecurity and appreciation

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sofa-king-lame · 2 days ago

Note

I'm curious as to what you'd do with 47 (out of spite)!

Yay thank you!

Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors or crappy formatting, I smashed this out in the notes app on my phone lol.

—

“Honestly, Eddie, we never understood what you were thinking moving to LA,” Helena sighs. “It’s so…progressive.”

“Abuela was here,” Eddie argues. “Pepa is here.”

“Your abuela came back, and Pepa has been thinking about doing the same. Soon you’ll have no family left there, Edmundo. Moving back here is the right decision,” Ramon chimes in. Eddie’s jaw tightens and he feels Buck tense next to him, and Eddie knows he’s biting his tongue to stop from interjecting. Buck had offered to be there when Eddie told his parents he was moving back to El Paso, and given the sick feeling that had settled in his stomach when he realised he was running out of reasons not to tell them he gratefully accepted.

“I have family here. I will always have family here,” Eddie argues. “The 118 are my family.”

“Coworkers, Eddie? Really? They don’t know you like we do,” Helena sighs. Buck is now visibly uncomfortable, enough that Eddie sees it in his peripheral vision.

“You’re right. They know he better,” he bites out. “This isn’t - I didn’t call you to argue. I’m moving for Chris, I need to fix things. I can’t do that when he won’t - when you won’t let me speak to for more than ten minutes at a time on a video call with a shitty connection.”

“Edmundo,” Ramon admonishes, “you’d better watch the way you speak to us or you’ll find yourself alone in your rental unable to speak to Christopher at all.”

“Excuse me? You remember he’s my son, right?” Eddie snaps. “He’s not your do-over child after you fucked the first three up.”

“See what I mean, Ramon? He never spoke to us like this before he moved to LA. You watch, he’ll be telling us the city turned him gay next,” Helena huffs and something inside Eddie breaks. He grabs Buck’s face and kisses him, dirty and wet, right in front of his parents. Eddie had resented his parents for a long time before he moved to LA, but pure spite and anger had been building inside him since the moment they appeared on his doorstep to take Christopher away from him. He wants to hurt them.

Buck has gone completely still and his parents are silent as Eddie pulls back, eyes unfocused and hazy as he finally realises what he’s done.

“Oh. Oh fuck,” he whispers as Buck pushes his chair back and darts out of the room. Eddie hangs up the call as his parents start talking over the top of each other and runs after Buck, catching him halfway to his car.

“Eddie, I can’t talk about this right now,” Buck starts.

“I’m sorry, fuck. Shit. I should have - I shouldn’t have done it like that,” Eddie stutters. “I should have asked.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have,” Buck mutters. He won’t look Eddie in the eye and it makes Eddie feel a little sick. He’s definitely just made things infinitely more difficult with his parents, and now…now he doesn’t want to go to Texas. He didn’t want to go anyway, he was moving purely out of necessity, but now he feels like he can’t. Because that fucking kiss -

“Is it always supposed to feel like that?” Eddie breathes. Buck’s eyes snap up to meet Eddie’s, bright blue and clouded with confusion.

“Like what?” Buck asks hesitantly. His hands are shaking, but he’s not breaking eye contact now.

“Like coming home,” Eddie whispers. He hears Buck’s breath hitch in his throat as he takes an uncertain step closer, reaching out but dropping his hand back down.

“Eddie.”

“Can I try that again?” Eddie asks. Buck nods enthusiastically and doesn’t wait, closing the distance between them and kissing Eddie in a way that is so devastatingly tender he might float away on the light breeze ghosting over them. Yeah, he definitely isn’t moving to Texas now.

“Fuck,” Buck laughs, his hands coming to rest on the back of Eddie’s neck.

“Look at you,” Eddie murmurs, “corrupting this innocent Texan boy.”

“Me? You’re the one who shoved their tongue down my throat in front of his parents,” Buck snorts.

“Yeah, well. Seems like my subconscious wanted me to create a reason to not move,” Eddie sighs.

“You’re not -"

“We’ve got a 48 off next weekend. Come with me to bring Chris home? Enough is enough. He can be mad at me here, but I’m done. I want my kid back,” Eddie huffs. Christopher can be as pissed off as he wants, but he can do it under this roof. In their home.

“Oh your parents will love me being there,” Buck snickers.

“I don’t give a shit what they think. Will you come?”

“Yeah, Eddie. Of course. Let’s go get him back.”

#911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fic #buddie fic #claire answers #ask game

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27spoons · 1 day ago

Text

Something to Try | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: A college party and some drinks with your best friend! What could possibly go wrong or irrevocably change your relationship?

pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

based on: pretty girls - reneé rapp

warnings: smut (afab!reader), internalized homophobia (nat), period typical homophobia (if you squint), alcohol consumption, ambiguously queer!reader, angst in my pants

a/n: i have not written smut in YEARS so this is... like... me getting back into it. i apologize in advance 😭🙏

wc: 5020

ao3

Somewhere between Philadelphia and New York City sits a white two-story house in the middle of a nice suburban neighbourhood. Shitty speakers blast terrible dance music through the walls, and you're already wondering why the neighbours haven't called in noise complaints to the county.

"Well, at least it isn't a frat house this time." You mutter with a scowl, crossing your arms and looking at the scene from the sidewalk.

The girl standing next to you scoffs and shoves her hands in the pocket of her leather jacket, "Y'know, if you're gonna bitch the whole time, you could go back to your dorm…"

"I am not—" You huff and roll your eyes, "I am not going back to the dorms. Let me bitch every now and then."

"You bitch constantly." She returns your eye roll, "There is never a moment in time you are not bitching about something."

You uncross your arms and shove at her shoulder, "You're a prick. Now I'm gonna bitch about you, Natalie. Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes. Because that means you're talking about me, and that feeds my ego." Nat says with a firm nod of her head, unable to hide the dumb grin on her face as she walks with you up to the front door of the house. "So, to clarify, you can only bitch if you're bitching about me."

"One day, I worry your head will explode with how big it's getting." You open the door to the house, and the stench of cheap booze and stale cigarette smoke immediately assaults your senses. "Oh, I lied. This is basically a frat house."

Nat laughs as she steps in behind you, "Nah, this place looks like it has working toilets in all bathrooms. Can't be a frat house." She glances around, eyes searching through the clusters of people scattered around the house. Her face lights up when she apparently finds someone she wants to see, and she turns to face you. "Hey, I'm gonna chat with Kev for a little while, but I'll catch up to you later, yeah?"

You sigh and wave her off, "Yeah, yeah. Just try not to forget I'm here this time."

She gives you an overdramatic gasp, a hand flying over her heart, "How dare you. I would never forget you're here." She's already taking steps back to talk to Kevyn, "You're always my top priority; you should know that by now." She shoots an easy wink at you, then vanishes into the groups of people in the living room.

Well. You really don't know what you were expecting. Nat has a tendency to vanish off to smoke weed or do drugs with a few of her friends, and you don't know why you thought tonight would be any different.

Oh, well. Might as well go see how your friends are doing.

About an hour and three Zimas later, a familiar presence makes herself known by pressing right up against your side. "Told you I wouldn't forget about you." Nat grins to herself, "C'mon. Let's get a drink."

"I'm not done mine—" She's already got your arm in a firm grip and tugging you away from your group of friends.

"Fine. Then I can get one, and we can go smoke after. Either way, you're coming with me."

"I was in the middle of a conversation…" A whine leaves your throat, but you do nothing to stop her from pulling you to the destination she has in mind.

"We can start a new conversation with some alcohol. Away from all the people." For all the parties that Natalie attended, you always found it funny how she preferred to stick to the edge, watching from the sidelines. If it wasn't for the fact she was a starter on the soccer team, she'd probably be considered a wallflower.

Natalie drags you into the kitchen, where the air smells faintly of spilled beer and lime. She lets go of your arm long enough to rummage through the countertop clutter, successfully locating a half-empty bottle of vodka. “Classy,” she mutters, grabbing a plastic cup and pouring herself a generous splash before topping it with soda.

Her eyes flick to you as she takes a sip, leaning casually against the counter. “You’re way too sober to be at a party like this.”

"Mm, trust me, I'm working on it." You raise up the half-empty can you've been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. "You, on the other hand, seem far too eager to get drunk." A sip of your drink, "Like, more eager than usual. And you're already pretty eager to get shitfaced."

Nat scoffs and rolls her eyes, gesturing with her head for you to follow her. "Yeah, well, we played a good game today. Won by two goals. Maybe I'm celebrating." She quips as her shoulder pushes the backdoor open.

But… something in her tone feels off. You can't quite place it, but the words sound slightly strained. Maybe it's because you've known her so long, or maybe she's just getting more obvious, but you swear you see a small crack in the mask she so often wears in public.

"Nah, you're being weird tonight." You murmur, eyes narrowing as you appraise her behaviour. "Why are you being weird tonight?"

"I'm not being weird tonight." She scoffs and grabs a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her pocket, "Maybe you're hallucinating. Take any pills tonight?"

You frown, "Natalie."

She sighs and looks away like a child being chastised. "You're so pushy sometimes." She passes you a cigarette, "Jus' thinkin' about things."

"What things?" You lean against the wall beside her and take the smoke with a slight nod of thanks, letting her light the end for you once it's placed between your lips. "Anything I can help with?"

Nat hesitates momentarily as she lights her cigarette, clearly debating if she should actually speak about what's on her mind.

It takes her half of whatever she dumped into her cup, a handful of drags from her cigarette, and more than a few huffs of frustration on her part.

"You're… I mean… you're into chicks, right?"

You pause on the inhale of the smoke, then proceed to cough it out in surprise at the line of questioning. "Jesus—" A few more coughs, you waving the smoke away from your face. "That's what you wanted to ask me?" You shake your head and blink a few times, "Yeah, uh, I thought I told you that I was into chicks, like, ages ago."

"No, uh, you did." She waves her free hand dismissively, "I… sorry. I didn't—" She groans in frustration, "I think it's cool."

"Cool?" You parrot.

"Yeah." She says immediately, "I just… I think it's cool that you're open with yourself about that stuff." Nat brings her thumb to rub at one of her eyebrows, "Just… we don't talk about stuff like that." She shrugs, "Guess I just wanna check in now and then."

Confusion finds its way onto your face, and you shake your head as you try and put the pieces together of why is she asking this stuff right now? "You… you sure that's it?"

Her facade seems to crumble further as she takes another drag from her cigarette, "Nah, I just…" She glances up at you, "I dunno. If I was gonna, I think you'd be the one I tried."

Your eyes fly open at that comment, because… what???

Your brain short-circuits for a second, trying to process her words. “Wait… what—” You blink and shake your head a few times, trying to pull yourself back together.

"Don't worry about it." Nat interrupts quickly, "I didn't say anything." She snubs the cigarette out on the wall behind her, no longer meeting your gaze.

"No… no… don't do that." You shake your head and push off the wall, heart pounding so hard you can feel it, "You did say something. You can't just… throw that out there then pretend that you didn't say it."

She finishes the rest of her drink and drops the butt of the cigarette into the empty cup, "God, you're annoying sometimes. Just… forget I said anything, okay?"

"No… I'm not gonna forget you said that. 'cus I know you. You wouldn't just… say something like that." You take a step closer, "So if you're gonna say something, say it."

The blonde seems frustrated at the development in the conversation, and for a moment, you worry she's gonna completely shut things down and pull away, but instead, her expression softens. "I don't know." Looking down at her boots, she murmurs, "I don't know what I'm saying. I just… think about it sometimes. About you."

"Like… me? Specifically?" You shake your head, still in shock at this revelation.

A bitter laugh escapes Nat's mouth, "Don't make me spell it out." Her gaze finally meets yours again, and you swear your breath hitches at the sudden tension between the two of you.

"Natalie…" You start, but before you can say anything else, she's cutting you off and closing the difference between you.

"Shut up." She mutters, and then her lips are on yours—urgent, messy, and laced with the taste of vodka and cigarette smoke.

You freeze at the contact, eyes widening even further. This is not how you expected tonight to play out, and yet… you can't find it in you to pull away.

Despite yourself, you kiss her back, quickly matching her intensity. Her hands find their way to your hair as yours find their way to her waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

When she finally pulls back, her breathing is uneven, and her eyes are wide, like she can't believe what she just did. "Shit…" she whispers, running her fingers through your hair.

"What… what the hell was that?" You ask in disbelief, still trying to catch your breath.

"I told you," her trembling voice betraying the smirk tugging at her lips. "If I was gonna… you'd be the one I tried."

You swallow down the sudden lump that's appeared in your throat, "I don't… this…" You don't even know what you're trying to say, but you're trying to form coherent phrases. "What?"

A beat of silence as her eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth again, "Do you wanna be the one I try?" She asks quietly, continuing to run her fingers through her hair, making you far weaker than you should be.

"Natalie…" You manage, voice barely above a whisper. She's close now. Too close, really. Close enough that this could complicate everything and—

Her lips are back on yours.

That's enough to shut your thoughts up.

At some point during this exploratory makeout session, some obnoxious douchebag wolf whistles at the two of you making out, to which Nat promptly flips him off and starts pulling you inside the house.

"Come on." Natalie laughs as she tugs you into a spare bedroom, "I need you alone. Without assholes with a God complex interrupting us." She closes and locks the door to the bedroom. When she turns and looks at you, her lower lip is caught between her teeth, and her green eyes have a dangerous glint.

The second the door is locked, the reality of the situation sets in. Are you really about to do this? Are you really about to… God, what are you even gonna do here? Natalie is looking at you like you're a tall glass of water and she's dying of thirst. Meanwhile, you're looking at her like a damn deer in the headlights.

"For the record," She adds, "I'm not… this isn't…" She gestures between the two of you, "This is just some fun. Like… you know I'm not gay, right?"

She doesn't give you a chance to answer that before her lips are on yours, and she's walking you back to the edge of the bed, pushing you down and straddling your waist. "Just to blow off some steam." She murmurs as her lips move to your neck, pressing wet kisses against the soft skin.

If you had half a mind right now, you'd probably say something like, "Straight chicks don't willingly do stuff like this with other chicks," or "I see multiple issues with that logic," but it's hard to form replies when her tongue is tracing along your pulse point, and her lips are oh so warm against your skin.

You vaguely think about all the times you've thought about this happening—but that's just it. They were just supposed to be thoughts. You never actually expected to end up in bed with Natalie—let alone her being the one to initiate it—but here you are, all the same.

"Nat—" You finally manage once you remember you need to breathe, "You—"

She pulls back briefly to tug her shirt over her head, and all rational thought vanishes out the window (along with the last shreds of the restraint you had—if you even had any, to begin with), and she moves her hands to tug off your shirt, which you eagerly help her remove.

"I'm so happy you came to the party." She whispers in awe as her hands trail up and down your torso in appreciation, "God…" Her hand stops to cup your breast, and you find yourself arching into her chest subconsciously.

She looks down at you like you're an experiment—which you are, really—or something to decipher and explore. But, honestly? You're sorta willing to be her experiment right now, even if a part of you knows this will hurt the both of you come morning.

"I wasn't gonna come, you know?" You murmur back, letting her map out your body under her surprisingly careful fingers, "I just… didn't see the point."

"That's your issue, yeah?" Nat replies back just as quietly, "You always think too much rather than just doing. Life is so much more fun when you stop overthinking everything." She brushes her thumb over your clothed nipple, which causes you to let out a small gasp, "And sometimes you talk too much when you should be doing other things. Like this." Her hand leaves your chest and joins her other one behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall down her shoulders.

"Oh, fuck." It's your turn to be awestruck now. "God, you're so…" Your hands trail up her body, running up her sides, her head falling back and a sigh spilling from her lips. "Fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful." You stop to cup the underside of her breasts, earning a sound of approval from the girl on top of you as she begins to roll her hips against yours slowly.

"Yeah…" Nat breathes out, "Little higher…" She grabs your wrists and moves your hands on your behalf, placing them directly overtop her breasts, "Don't be afraid to touch me, not fragile…"

"Wasn't afraid," You reply as you squeeze gently, "was just trying to take my time. Not rush the good stuff."

She scoffs out a laugh, "Maybe I want you to rush to the good stuff; think of that?"

"Nah, that's no fun. Foreplay is half the excitement. Gotta build tension."

"Tension's been building all night." She rasps with a roll of her hips, "So don't give me that bullshit."

"Fine. Maybe I just want to take my time. Think of that?" You roll a nipple between your thumb and pointer, grinning to yourself at the way she gasps and her hips stutter at the sensation. "I like to play with my food before I eat it."

A low chuckle spills from deep in Nat's chest at your last comment, "Jesus, you're terrible. Has your dirty talk always been this bad?"

"Yep." You respond immediately, "Just another thing I'm skilled at, really."

"Really?" She looks down at you, an assumed smirk on her face. "What other things could you possibly be skilled at?"

You grin right back at her. That was exactly the reply you wanted. And she says your dirty talk is terrible. You're just always five steps ahead, really.

"If you'd let me show you, I've been told my fingers and tongue are pretty talented." You grin wider when she blushes despite herself, "And, honestly? I kinda wanna show you."

Nat scoffs to hide how flustered she is at your teasing, "W-what? Is this the part where you tell me that I've been "missing out," too?"

"Oh, I wasn't gonna say anything. You were the one that did that."

A beat.

You laugh.

"Oh my God. Shut up." And her lips are back on yours before you can protest—not that you would want to, anyways—and you're kissing her back in a heartbeat, her hands leaving your wrists to rest on your collarbones, thumbs tracing the lines of your bra strap.

Your hands find their way to Nat's hips, squeezing the soft flesh there and encouraging their movement as her tongue slides its way into your mouth.

Things move fast after that. You aren't quite sure when she manages to take your bra off, and she isn't quite sure when you managed to get her pants off, but before either of you can think about how fast things are moving, you're both making out in nothing but your underwear.

For one of the first times in your life, you're realising that you're the more experienced one when it comes to this sort of thing. Nat's never been with a girl before, giving you the upper hand.

Something you fully plan on exploiting.

You end up shifted so that she's laying flat on the bed under you while you're propped up on an elbow next to her, using your free arm to run your hand down her body as the two of you continue this heated makeout session you've been in for the past… however long you've been in this room.

When your fingers begin to tease the edge of her panties, Nat gasps and deepens the kiss further, with one of her hands curling around the nape of your neck as the other comes to rest on your shoulder. Which, well, seems like consent if you've ever been given any.

You let your fingers trail under the waistband and lower still, grinning into the kiss when you feel her push herself into your hand despite the fact you haven't even touched her yet.

"Don't be a tease." Nat whines into the kiss, earning a low laugh from you.

"Not teasing. Just taking my time, is all." You properly brush your fingers against her, delving into the warmth but never quite going where she wants you to.

"No, you're being a fucking tease!" She whines again, more petulantly, her nails digging into your shoulder.

You click your tongue at that, "And you're a lot needier than I thought you'd be, Scatorccio. Can't spend five minutes doing some foreplay?"

"What I want to do is spend my time—" You cut her off when your fingers brush against her clit, a feral grin spreading across your features.

"You were saying something, Nat?"

"Oh my God. Shut up." She repeats for the second time tonight, pulling you in for another kiss, using the hand on the nape of your neck to aid in her agenda.

After you decide you've teased her clit for a suitable amount of time, you slide your middle and ring finger down the length of her wetness, then proceed to tease her entrance in slow circles. Nat bites on your lower lip in retaliation for what she still deems as "teasing," but is quick enough to soothe the bite with her tongue.

"You know," You murmur as you break the kiss, pulling back to watch her face, "I think you're gonna enjoy this."

She scoffs, "Yeah, that's sorta the point, dipshit."

"Mm, not what I meant." You sink those two fingers inside of her, enjoying the way her breath catches, and she arches into your touch. "I think you're gonna really enjoy this."

"You've got a big head." She starts rocking her hips against your hand, the motion causing the heel of your palm to rub against her, "You gonna… gonna… back that up?"

"I think I already am, honestly." You murmur back as you begin to move your fingers, "Did you even notice you were humping my hand?" Based on how her hips stutter for the slightest moment, the answer was probably no.

"Is all you do tease?"

You laugh at that, slowly figuring out what she likes based on her reactions to what you do, "Mhm. It's my favourite part of this." You pull your fingers back just as she seems to be really getting into it, which earns you a confused whine, but you don't give her long to worry about it.

You start at her lips, then slowly work your mouth down her body. Admittedly, you spend a little longer than needed lingering in the valley between her breasts, but who can really blame you? They're nice, and you've spent far too long wondering what it would be like to be between them.

You continue moving south once Natalie lets out a frustrated huff and pushes at your shoulders slightly, your lips pausing just under her belly button, glancing up at her for one last okay before you go this far.

She gives you her approval in the form of a slight nod, and you immediately hook your fingers in the waistband of her panties and tug them down once you have it.

You trail your mouth up her leg, starting from her ankle and moving upwards, only slowing down once you reach her thighs.

"Such a fucking tease…" Nat mumbles to herself when you slow down, so you nip her thigh in some form of retaliation at her impatience.

"Good things come to those who wait." And you tease her longer, purposefully avoiding her aching center just to prove your point.

When she starts tugging at your hair in frustration, you finally relent, flattening your tongue and dragging it through her folds once, then twice, then pull back for a moment to look at her.

"Goddamn." You murmur, "We're gonna have fun." You press a chaste kiss to her clit, then immediately dive in, nuzzling your nose against it as your tongue presses in.

Truthfully, you've always liked it a little messy. You don't think Nat minds in the slightest. In fact, one might even say that she prefers it when it's sloppy.

Pornographic slurping sounds fill the small bedroom, coupled with the sharp inhales Nat takes every time you do something she really likes, and you decide you really like those sounds, making it your sole mission to have her make as many of them as possible.

When you move your mouth up to attach to her clit, you replace your tongue with two fingers, delving them back into the warm heat of her pussy. You hum in appreciation at the gasp she makes as you work your fingers in tandem with your mouth.

Nat, you've noticed, isn't very vocal. That's fine; she doesn't need to be. Not when her hips keep rocking against your face. Not when her eyes are shut, and her face is contorted in an expression of pleasure. Not when one of her hands is trembling atop her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle those small sounds.

You pick up on what she likes really quickly, trying to keep your eyes trained on her face as long as possible. Knowing that you're the one making her look like that. You really didn't need the ego boost, but you'll take it anyway.

She lets you know she's about to come with her hand moving from your hair to smack your shoulder a few times, a shaky "F-fuck—" spilling from her lips and her back arching off the mattress. You double down on your actions to get her there, and when her thighs clamp down on either side of your head, you let yourself grin.

Natalie isn't one to give herself time to wind down, however.

Once she finishes riding out her climax, she's immediately tugging you up to mash her lips against yours, rolling you over so you're lying on your back instead of her.

"Mm, wait—" You push her shoulder back when one of her hands goes to trail down your body, "You don't have to… I don't need you to "repay the favour"—"

"I want to." Nat cuts you off, pressing her lips against your neck and working her way down your body. "And, for the record?" She pauses and looks up at you when she reaches your collarbone, "I'm a fast learner." She grins and continues moving her mouth lower, fingers hooking in the waistband of your underwear.

"Fast learner." You huff out as you lift your hips for her, allowing her to tug your panties down your legs and discard them somewhere off to the side.

"Yeah," She agrees as she sits back on her knees, "Real fast learner, actually. And I doubt it's that much different than going down on a guy." A beat, "Who knows? Maybe I'll learn something that could be useful in my… future endeavours."

You bristle slightly at the comment, an uneasy feeling gripping the back of your neck for a reason you can't quite place. "Nat—" And, much like you were doing to her, she cuts you off by attaching her lips straight to your clit, causing you to gasp in shock at the sudden sensation. "F-fuck!" You hiss out. While it's not a bad sensation—far from it— it is unexpected and bypassing any and all forms of teasing.

Nat seems to delight in the sounds you're making and continues her exploration of your pussy. She pays eager attention to your clit at the beginning before realising that she should probably attend to other areas as well, and promptly doing just that.

And, hey, she was right. She is a fast learner. And an eager one, at that.

Her fingers dig into the meat of your thighs with bruising strength, forcing them open and refusing to let you budge from her hold even slightly. And, in true Natalie fashion, she's just as messy about it as you were, never one to be outdone.

However, unlike you, she doesn't seem content to spend the whole time going down on you. She pulls back and pushes her hair out of her face, "God, I wanna try something—" She moves to straddle one of your thighs and presses her own up against your center, hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

"Shit," You murmur as your hands find purchase on her hips, "You sure you haven't been with a chick before? You sure seem to know what you're doing…"

"What can I say? I've done some research here and there." She lets out a low laugh that turns into a breathless sort of moan as her hips roll against your thigh, pushing her thigh further against you in turn.

"Holy fuck, you're so fucking wet," Nat says in astonishment, her head falling forward as you begin rocking against her thigh. "Goddamn…"

"Yeah, you're not any better." You reply breathlessly, "Gonna fuckin' make a mess on my thigh…"

She rakes her nails down your chest and lets out a noise you're pretty sure is supposed to be a growl, "That's the idea. Already made a mess of your face, might as well ruin another part of you." And her lips are back on yours before you can come up with some sort of retort.

You two move against each other with urgency, breaking the kiss to rest your foreheads together as you breathe heavily.

Natalie digs her nails into your waist, lips attaching to your neck again as she continues to rock her hips against your thigh.

It's a mess of animalistic grunts and X-rated gasps that fill your ears. The noises, combined with her lips on your neck and the way she's oh so desperately moving against your thigh? You can't help yourself. It might be one of the hottest things you've ever witnessed.

The woman on top of you comes first with a sharp gasp followed by a low groan. Then, upon realising you still haven't, her fingers replace her thigh, moving with intention.

"Fuck—" You arch up into her hand, "Shit, you don't have to—"

"Shut up." She whispers against your skin, "Let me make you feel good."

And, well, who are you to say no to the girl with her hand between your thighs?

By the end of the evening, you're more relaxed than you've been in a long time. Nat is lying loosely on the bed beside you, her hand playing with your fingers.

"Weren't lying." She murmurs after a long silence between you two, seemingly lost in thought.

"Not lying about what?" You prop yourself up on an elbow, looking down at her as she sighs quietly.

"Really enjoying this." Her voice comes out soft, and it almost appears that even she seems surprised at the words. "I just… I don't know. It was fun."

You smile to yourself at that and squeeze her hand, "Yeah." Despite the haze of lust and alcohol that clouds your mind, at least, that is something you can agree to.

Morning.

The first thing you notice? You have a killer headache.

The second thing? This isn't your bed.

The third thing? You're alone in this bed.

Last night crashes over you in waves. Images of Natalies flushed face underneath you. The way she seemed almost eager to be with you in that way.

The sheets still smell faintly of her—a mix of smoke and something warm, something hers. You reach out instinctively, fingers brushing the cool, empty space beside you. She’s gone. Of course, she’s gone. You should’ve known better.

Last night replays in your mind: the way her hands gripped your shoulders, her voice a low whisper against your skin. You could’ve sworn, for just a moment, she wanted you. Needed you. But maybe that was just the vodka.

Maybe it was just the vodka.

a/n: this is so much longer than I thought it would be and yet not long enough

tragic

#you dont get a happy ending btw #i mean like you got a “happy ending” but you arent getting a happy ending #im so funny #im the funniest person i know #if you dont know what a “happy ending” is dw about it just know im funny #do people even read tags #i fr just b yapping in here most times #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #spoons (fics/blurbs)#steak knives (nsfw)#from the cutlery drawer

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simpingforbots · 3 days ago

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HAPPY (late) new year! 🥳🎊🕛

Hope you're doing good

Cuddly/affectionate human with Onyx prime?

The human just LOVES to be held by him or be placed on his shoulder the human cannot stay 1 second away from him at all and loves to just place their small little hands on Onyx face plate and caress and even sometimes they like to nuzzle him as well, likes to play with his claws grab and shake and move them not scared at all, showing all the type of love/affection the small human can do

I'm sorry if this is really short or doesn't have much context

Hello! and Happy (late) New year to you to anonn, hope you all the best in this new year and that only good fortune fall upon your shoulders and your family.

Despite his animalistick appearances Onyx was the most grounded out of all Thirteens, a someone to go to when ever you need help or find answers that you can not find in archives. For this he was respected in his group, even Zeta would time to time go to him for advice. So it was only natural that after another fight that Onyx accidently missed he was given a small being. This little being confused him profusely: what he supposed to do with this little life, that looked incredibly hurt and fragile, covered in something blue on their fleshy exterior and leaking red from small cuts, their little opticks staring at him with fear, clinging on to his talons, trying to push them away. Seeing as they were hurt, Onyx slightly adjusted his grip, to make sure he was not squeezing this little life to death and turned around to return to his quarters to see what he can do.

It will be difficult to take care of such small and fragile creature, carrying them over to his table and leaning them to rest for a bit, while doing his best to gather all the soft material and try to understand how to help them. First thing first he will have to stop their leaks, but how. Reaping one of fabrics in to small strips, Onyx carefully and tightly wrapped it around the cuts of the small thing, probably hurting them a bit as they let out pained chirps in their little language. Feeling bad for it, Onyx let out soft whispers, gently patting their little body to try reassure them that he did not mean harm, it’s just so hard to fix your body when you are so small. When he was done wrapping them up completely and having to stifle his laugh as little thing tried to wriggle free, only to slump as now they were completely depended on him to move around. Meaning that Onyx will have to really do his best just to make sure this one survives.

It soon become a normal to see Onyx carry the little life form around, taking them anywhere .hhe was going: ether on his hand, nestled by his neck or in some kind of fabric, wrapped aorund them tightly and pressed against him. It was needed as this little life was very depended on him in such state, basicaly requiring around clock care, making sure to change the makeshift bandages on them to avoid any kind of infection. The bird bot also noticed how much the little organic life form loved warmth, rubbing or leaning against him when ever he would hold them, letting sweet chitter as a thankyou for keeping them safe at the same time. He would time to time allow others to take “small bird” away to watch them while he had to go away to do his business, trusting his sibling to be carful with them. And every time, upon his return little bird would rush to wards him, ignoring their injuries, just wanting to be by his side.

After some time, field with hard times of caring for new life, figuring things out, Onyx grew a soft spot for little one, now wanting to keep them by his side instead of taking them back to their planet. How can he after this little one basicaly imprinted on him, letting chirps of strange language, constantly by his side and even letting him play with them, let his talons gently squish at them, prod and play with them. Hell, he even took upon him self to teach them his language, which was very adorable when ever they tried to communicated with them, sounding like a sparkling, a gibberish with few words that can actually understand.

#transformers #transformers one #transformers x reader #transformers x human #writing #answering #onyx prime

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the-darker-path · 3 days ago

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It was rather surreal to see Taylor's face, to hear her voice, while he was here in his childhood room. Malfoy Manor had always been a cold place--he really was beginning to suspect it of carrying multiple ancestral curses--but before last year, Draco had considered that to be a matter of austerity.

After Riddle took residence, its harsh reality was far more clear. But Taylor seemed to be a natural force against the monster, her presence as warming just by magical communication as it was in person.

Her question of aesthetics made Draco scoff. "While yes, the attire style is very distinctly familial, no, I would never look right in bright colors. When it comes to red hues, I may manage your jewel and berry tones, but you Gryffindors....your crimson is quite something else. It suits your dark skin and hair, certainly."

Everything suited her. Draco could not understand how anyone in the world considered it less attractive to be darker, because Taylor was the most breathtaking creature he had ever seen. Those curls.

He winced a little at the valid counter point, wincing and laughing a little. "...okay, perhaps Severus has been indulgent with me," Draco allowed. "Maybe I can address that with him....I mean, it might be too obvious if things changed drastically, but at the very least he doesn't need to be a twat."

Taylor mentioning Sirius reminded him of his cousin's plight, sobering Draco again. "Fair....I wonder." Draco frowned, mind racing. "I wonder if there's any feasible way of my visiting. Though I guess he's not without family, you do have Tonks." Draco smiled ruefully. "I saw your face just then, but if I'm honest, it's more bearable having that toad bitch simpering thinking I'm on her side than it is tip-toeing around him. I guess it's trading one type of cage for another. Merlin, I can't wait to see you again."

Gods, but her laughter was beautiful. Even when it was a bit sarcastic, it was such a lovely, musical sound….Draco felt a longing to hear her laugh every day of his life, to make sure that she did, and…even more strangely, it didn’t seem too intense or alarming to feel that way.

All my love, indeed.

“Yes, he finds them regal,” Draco replied, laughing. “But if I’m honest with you, I’m nearly certain that it’s–well, not to get far too analytical with you, but I must.” He nestled into his bed on his own side, propping the mirror up to continue talking to her without discomforting his arm. “My grandfather Abraxas kept them too, and I’d assume he inherited it from his father. I can’t help assuming that Father just…didn’t break his bonds, deviate from expectation and ‘duty,’ as I have, so things like all black clothes and long hair and peacock-keeping is just the Malfoy patriarch image he knows to uphold, you know?”

Draco wondered if Narcissa was going to be sad, when all of this ended, and he did not keep to the Manor. He could stomach saying no to Lucius’ face, but would it grieve her? Or would she agree with him? Would seeing Voldemort defeated finally let her relax and agree that the darkness in the Manor had lasted far too long?

“As for swans, though,” he added, laughing, “I have heard that. Don’t they actually have teeth inside of those monstrous beaks?”

Taylor had a point about Severus’ potential to save him, but he still laughed at her actual words. “’Might’ not like the terrifying American who is the size of a doll and yet somehow packs both literal and verbal punches brutal enough to land him on his arse? My my, I can’t imagine why he would be.” Draco grinned. “And I’m not his favorite, I’m his godson, he feels responsible.”

His smile softened. “Would you come back early to be with me? We can plan lessons. Won’t even get frisky, I promise.”

#fidelixcorde #Draco x Taylor #RP: The War is On Us

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airenyah · 23 hours ago

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A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 7

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6)

Hi y'all, this is the longest one yet. Don't ask me how much sleep I've been getting. And don't ask me about how my uni assignments are going. Or the studying for any exams. You don't wanna know.

ENJOY <3

Disclaimer: I just want to remind everyone that I am not a Thai native speaker and also in no way fluent yet (I'm roughly at B1/B2 level). There is a whoooole lot of language stuff in this meta and I didn't double check every single thing with native speakers because I didn't wanna overwhelm anyone with the number of questions, even though I already split my questions between three different people. That's how much language stuff I've packed in here this time. Oops. (There may be mistakes. I'm open to corrections.)

Pronoun situation: As usual, just assume Fadel and Style use the rude pronouns guu/mueng with each other unless I specify otherwise.

To recap: When we last left Style he was absolutely stoked to have his boyfriend back. Fadel even confessed his love to Style, and while Fadel was acting a little weird, things were mostly all good, right? Nothing to worry about, thinks Style...

No. 1: How to Clean Your Boyfriend's Face

We start the episode with Style actually doing his (real) job for once, which is nice for a change, because I don't think we saw him actually working on a car ever since he started flirting with Fadel. However, he gets abruptly interrupted in his work when Fadel suddenly pulls him out from underneath the car with no warning and attacks him with a shower of kisses. Style is very amused about it, but it's not the right time or place for something like this and so he complains, reminding Fadel that Style's father could show up. Fadel asks him if Style is scared and personally, I don't think it's that Style is scared. I think it's more about how off-guard Fadel caught him, Style wasn't mentally prepared for a sudden kiss shower/potential make-out session from one second to the next. And also, Style knows his dad is out and could return at any moment and let's be real... This would be a very awkward situation to have your parent walk in on you, for both you and your parent.

But Fadel doesn't care and continues to shower Style in kisses anyway. Since the message didn't reach Fadel the first time or Fadel is deliberately ignoring the message, Style tries again, now explicitly asking Fadel if this was the time for kissing (I know in the subs it's a statement but in Thai he actually phrases it like a question). Instead of answering, Fadel goes into an explanation about the difference between a kiss and a peck which ends in a demonstration of what a kiss really is. Style is still very amused and even laughs, but he's getting more suspicious by the minute. He pushes Fadel away again and starts questioning him: "Why are you here?"

Now, this isn't literally what he's saying in Thai, but I can see why it would have been translated that way, because I, too, am struggling to find a way to make the literal translation sound smooth and natural in English. Plus, the second part of what he's saying can be taken a few different ways:

นี่มึงมาหากูอ่ะ มีอะไรหรือเปล่ว [nîi - mueng - maa hăa - guu - àh • mii - à-rai - rĕu bplào] [interjection] - you - come visit - me - [particle] • there is - something, anything - or not

Now, the literal translation of the first part is pretty straight forward, it's just "you came to visit me". The second part is slightly more complicated because the literal translation is "Do you have anything?" or "Do you have something?" which doesn't really make any sense in English. This phrase means something along the lines of:

What's up?/Is something up?/Is anything up?

Is there a problem?

Is something on your mind?

What's the matter?

Is something wrong?

Basically, the sentiment here is something along the lines of: "The reason why you came by, is there anything going on?" (Funnily enough I find this a lot easier to translate into German: "Dass du zu mir gekommen bist, gibt's denn was?")

Point is, Style isn't just asking "Why are you here?" because he's surprised and wants to know the reason, but he is specifically asking if there's anything up, because he can tell there is something off about Fadel's behavior and that there's got to be a reason for it. And when he says "You could have let me know you were coming", in Thai this is also phrased like a question:

Why didn't you let me know first? ทำไมไม่ทักมาก่อนอ่ะ [tam-mai - mâi - ták maa - gòn - àh] why - not - speak to - first - [particle]

Again, Fadel doesn't really answer any of Style's questions and just comes up with a counter question: "We’re dating. Can’t I just pop by and see you?" Style is still very amused about this and the way he looks at Fadel is full of love and affection. However, as much as Style appreciates the sweetness, it's very out of character and that has him even more skeptical now: "What is this? You’re being weirdly nice. What’s with you?" By the way, when Style says "nice", the word he uses in Thai is หวาน [wăan], which translates to "sweet". Style is explicitly calling out Fadel's odd overly clingy behavior.

And again, Fadel deflects Style's inquiries about what is going on with him, this time with a complaint: "You don’t like me being nice. You complain when I’m cold. What do you even want?"

I'm just gonna share the literal translation with you, even though it doesn't really make much of a difference (except for Fadel also saying "sweet" instead of "nice") simply just because I found it amusing:

When I'm sweet, you don't like it. ตอนกูหวานมึงก็ไม่ชอบ [dton - guu - wăan - mueng - gôr - mâi - chôp] when - I - sweet - you - [sentence link] - not - like When I'm hostile, you still scold me. ตอนกูโหดมึงก็ด่ากู [dton - guu - hòht - mueng - gôr - dàa - guu] when - I - aggressive - you - [sentence link] - scold - me How exactly do you like it? มึงชอบแบบไหนกันแน่เนี่ย [mueng - chôp - bàep năi - gan nâe - nîia] you - like - which way - exactly - [particle]

I just find it amusing that Fadel complains about Style scolding him, when Fadel has spent the first few episodes doing nothing but scold and yell at Style himself.

Anyway, Fadel turns it around on Style and Style is quick to conciliate him ("I’m just not used to you like this.") and then explicitly tells Fadel that he is being out of character ("You don’t sound like you, you know?"). And let me just share a literal translation with you, for funsies:

I'm just not used to the tone of your voice right now. กูแค่ไม่ชินกับน้ำเสียงมึงตอนเนี่ย [guu - kâe - mâi - chin gàp - náam-sĭiang mueng - dton - nîia] I - just - not - used to - your tone of voice - (right) now - [particle] You don't seem like you at all, you know? ดูไม่เป็นมึงเลยรู้วะ [duu - mâi - bpen - mueng - loiie - rúu - wá] seem, look - not - be - you - [particle for emphasis] - know - [particle]

Fun fact: the word that is used to say "seem like" is ดู [duu], which also means "to look". That is to say, the sentence could also give a feeling of "it looks like it's not you at all" or "you don't look like you at all".

Fadel doesn't sound like himself in the way he speaks, and Fadel doesn't seem ("look") like himself in the way he behaves. Something is wrong with the Fadel that Style knows and loves, and Style can very much tell. So he keeps pulling back, keeps refusing to accept Fadel's affection and kisses until he's gotten to the bottom of what is going on. But Fadel hits him with a (seemingly) romantic line: "Don’t you ever think that I’m only like this because of you?" This has Style smile. After all, Fadel isn't exactly wrong about this. Fadel has indeed changed through Style's influence since their first meeting. It's the most sincere thing Fadel has said in this entire conversation so far. Style looks at Fadel fondly and finally lets him kiss him without a protest. And that, of course, is the exact moment Style's dad has to arrive home. Our lovebirds ended up being walked in on by a parent after all. How awkward.

Fadel quickly jumps to his feet and Style sits up. After a short banter between Style and his dad, Style's dad turns to Fadel and asks: "You’re here so late. Where are you guys going?"

And again, I wanna share a more literal translation of the ensuing conversation:

Dad: Where are you inviting him to go to? จะชวนไปไหนกัน [jà - chuuan - bpai - năi - gan] will - invite - go - where - together Official subs: Where are you guys going? Fadel: I'm not inviting him anywhere. I was gonna come to ask to spend the night. ไม่ได้ชวนไปไหนครับ จะมาขอนอนค้าง [mâi dâai - chuuan - bpai - năi - kráp • jà - maa - kŏh - nawn káang] not - invite - go - anywhere - [krub] • will - come - ask for - spend the night Official subs: We’re not going anywhere. I’m just staying over.

It doesn't really make much of a difference here, but I find it interesting how just a little bit of rephrasing to "I'm just staying over" makes it sound like Fadel had already decided and was set on it (which to be fair he probably was anyway) while in Thai that decision is less straight foreward, because he says he wanted to ask to spend the night (he's not just barging in, but asks for permission first. Although, let's be real, I'm sure if Style had said no, Fadel would have done his best to talk Style into letting him stay over anyway. That is, if he had even planned on spending the night at Style's in the first place or if he just said that to appease Style's dad, considering Fadel didn't even seem to bring his own PJs for a sleepover).

Anyway, Fadel wanting to spend the night is news to Style. He looks at Fadel with question marks all over his face. This isn't helping in making Fadel's behavior seem any less odd.

Style's dad is cool with Fadel staying over, but wants to have a chat with him under the guise of Fadel helping him. Once the dad has walked off, Style starts questioning Fadel again: "Hey. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to stay over?" Fadel crouches down, takes Style's head in his hands and says: "It’s only normal for boyfriends to cuddle to sleep, right?" Style smiles at him and while there is so much adoration in his expression, he is also not at all convinced or reassured.

Style goes uncharacteristically quiet and almost kind of passive after Fadel crouches down, as if he's letting Fadel's touches and kisses just sort of happen to him. Style clearly has a bad feeling about this. He doesn't even keep the smile up until Fadel has walked away, instead his smile falls the moment Fadel has turned his back to him.

Something is very much not right about any of what just happened with Fadel and Style knows it:

Side quest: Protective Dad

Okay, so by now you're probably well aware of the fact that for this meta series I only look at scenes featuring Style. However, I do wanna take a quick dip into the scene between Fadel and Style's dad, because it confirms what I said in my ep6 meta when I went into why I think Style's dad asked Fadel whether Fadel was Style's one-time thing or if he was taking Style seriously:

[I]t's more [Style's dad] being a bit of a protective dad who wants to make sure the people his son keeps company with aren't gonna cause heartbreak to his son.

And it already shows in the scene when Style's dad walks in on them kissing. I actually shared this specific literal translation for a reason:

Dad: Where are you inviting him to go to? Fadel: I'm not inviting him anywhere. I was gonna come to ask to spend the night. Official translation: Dad: Where are you guys going? Fadel: We’re not going anywhere. I’m just staying over.

What is happening in Thai is that Style's dad is addressing only Fadel with his question. Where are you taking my son? What are you gonna be doing with my son? What are your plans with my son?

Style's dad trusts his own son, but Fadel is a stranger to him and so he needs to make sure his son will be safe in Fadel's hands. After all Style's dad and Style only have each other now. And we've already heard from Style how important they are to each other. And when Fadel lets dad know they're staying in, dad is relieved: "That’s good. Stay over so I don’t have to worry."

After that, he immediately pulls Fadel aside to question him some more away from his son: "So I take it you’re serious about him, then?"

I wanna share some of the ensuing conversation with a more literal translation again:

Fadel: Serious in what way? จริงจังแบบไหนครับ [jing jang - bàep năi - kráp] serious - how, in what way - [krub] Official subs: What do you mean? Dad: Well, serious as in calling it dating. (lit.: "calling it being each other's faen") ก็จริงจังแบบที่เรียกว่าเป็นแฟนกันน่ะ [gôr - jing jang - bàep - têe - rîiak wâa - bpen faen gan - nâ] well - serious - like - that - be called - dating - [particle] Official subs: You’re really dating him, aren’t you? My son isn't imagining it, right? ลูกกูไม่ได้คิดไปเองใช่ไหม [lûuk guu - mâi dâai - kít bpai eng - châi măi] my son - not - imagining/thinking by oneself - right? Official subs: He’s not being led on, is he?

I wanted to share this mostly because of the last sentence. Usually, Style's dad uses the rude pronouns guu/mueng when talking to Style (he does with Fadel, too) and so he also uses the rude pronoun man when referring to him in 3rd person in this conversation with Fadel. But in the last sentence he refers to Style as "my son" specifically, which I adore. That's his son! Style is his son! And he doesn't want to see his son get hurt because the guy he's with was just playing him and it was all just one-sided on Style's part in the end.

Fadel says he's not leading Style on. Style's dad is a bit relieved and shares that he was worried since Style was the one who hit on Fadel first. Now this is a very interesting, because that feeds right into the discussions from after episode 3 dropped about Style preferring to be pursued rather than doing the pursuing himself which I also address in my ep3 meta.

Anyway, Style's dad says that he won't have to worry anymore and then continues to say:

I don't know what the world of two men together is like, กูก็ไม่รู้หรอกนะว่าโลกของผู้ชายกับผู้ชายมันเป็นยังไง [guu - gôr - mâi - róo - ròk - ná - wâa - lôhk - kŏng - pûu-chaai - gàp pûu-chaai - man - bpen - yang-ngai] I - not - know - [particle] - [particle] - that - world - of - man - with, and - man - it - is - how Official subs: I don’t know anything about dating boys, but if you like him, then like him for a long time. แต่ถ้ามึงชอบมันอ่ะก็ชอบมันให้นานๆ [dtàe - tâa - mueng - chôp - man - àh • gôr - chôp - man - hâi naan naan] but - if - you - like - him - [particle] - then - like - him - for a long time Official subs: but if you’re gonna date him, I hope it’s steady.

There is no deeper reason behind me sharing this except that it amuses me that the dad phrases gay dating as "the world of a man with a man" and that I think somehow the dad asking Fadel to like Style for a long time sounds almost sweeter to me than the word "steady". I don't know, maybe the word "steady" simply just sounds kinda weird to my ESL brain. And I like how phrasing it as "like him for a long time" makes liking Style something that Fadel actively does. Fadel is an active participant in this relationship, this relationship is not something that kind of just is. Fadel can actively influence how the relationship is gonna go and how it will affect the well-being of dad's son. It's almost like a task that Style's dad is giving him.

Style's dad closes with "My son may talk big and annoy people, but when he loves, he does with his whole heart. Just like his old man does." And we know dad is speaking the truth when he says Style loves with all his heart. Episodes 5 and 6 are proof of that. (Btw, the literal translation from Thai actually sounds less poetic in English: he says that when Style loves someone, he "truly loves them". I can't speak for the connotations in Thai, though, because I didn't ask anyone about it. Maybe it sounds more poetic in Thai.)

Anyway, I just adore this scene, because in episode 1 and episode 4 we already got some glimpses into the dynamic Style has with his dad and in episode 5 Style revealed just how important his dad was to him. And now in episode 7 we get to see dad's side of it as well. He is so very protective over his son and he will let Fadel know. In fact, so far in every single scene in which Style's dad and Fadel have interacted, Style's dad has made it very clear to Fadel that he is worried about Fadel's intentions with his son. Honestly, the fact that Style's dad is so adamant about this makes me wonder if maybe he's had to watch his son get his heart broken before and doesn't want a repeat of that. Either way, I just adore this father-son relationship and I hope Style's dad will make it out of this story okay (no one dies in a romcom, right? 🥺). And I hope he adopts Fadel in the end.

No. 2: Scent Addict

Just as a quick reminder, we left Style sitting on his cart on the floor of the garage looking very concerned and very confused, clearly suspicious of Fadel and uncharacteristically quiet. Now we come back to Style sitting on his bed on the floor, watching his boyfriend make a big show of sniffing his shirt (shout out to the costume department for using the chance to put Joong in a crop top! They're the real MVPs). Fadel compliments Style's smell and Style is not impressed. In fact, Style immediately calls Fadel out for being weird again: "I think something’s wrong with you. It’s not like you to talk so sweet." Or in it's more literal wording:

I think you're unwell. กูว่ามึงไม่สบายแล้วนะ [guu - wâa - mueng - mâi sà-baai - láew - ná] I - think - you - ill, unwell - already, now - [na] It really doesn't seem like you to be so sickly sweet. มึงหวานเลี่ยนแบบเนี้ยดูไม่ใช่มึงเลย [mueng - wăan lîian - bàep níia - duu - mâi châi - mueng - loiie] you - overly sweet - like this - seem, look - not - you - [particle for emphasis]

I mainly wanted to share this, because in the second sentence he uses almost the exact same wording like earlier on the garage floor when he said that Fadel didn't seem like himself:

ดูไม่เป็นมึงเลยรู้วะ [duu - mâi - bpen - mueng - loiie - rúu - wá] seem, look - not - be - you - [particle for emphasis] - know - [particle]

Compared with what he says now:

มึงหวานเลี่ยนแบบเนี้ยดูไม่ใช่มึงเลย [mueng - wăan lîian - bàep níia - duu - mâi châi - mueng - loiie] you - overly sweet - like this - seem, look - not - you - [particle for emphasis]

Again, the image Style is being presented of Fadel doesn't look like the image of Fadel that he knows and loves. Fadel laughs, says he's fine and sits down on the bed next to Style. Back in the garage, Fadel responded with "Don’t you ever think that I’m only like this because of you?" which was a truth so sufficiently sincere that it satisfied Style enough to the point to let Fadel kiss him without a protest, completely oblivious to the fact that Fadel didn't necessarily mean this truth in the way Style thought he meant it. Now in Style's room, Fadel's response to Style's accusation of not seeming like himself is similar to the one on the garage floor: "Meeting you has brought out a different side in me, is all. Didn’t you notice? I’m happier. I smile more." Again, Fadel goes for the truth. We know it's the truth because we've watched Fadel smile and laugh and just be happy whenever he was around Style ever since their conversation by the car in episode 4 that led to a change in their relationship status. We know this, and Style knows it, too. There is no need to be suspicious about this, what Fadel said makes complete sense. Style agrees: "You’re right. You were like a vicious dog before this. You even beat me up. I should get the credits for bringing out this sweet side in you."

Fun fact, Style actually doesn't want the credits himself but wants to give them to his charm specially instead:

I have to give credits to my charm for being able to pull this extreme sweetness out of you. นี่กูต้องให้เครดิตเสน่ห์กูนะ ที่ดึงความหวานเลี่ยนออกจากตัวมึงได้อ่ะ [nîi - guu - dtông - hâi - kreh-dìt - sà-nèh guu - ná • tîi - deung - kwaam wăan lîian - òk - jàak - dtuua meung - dâai - àh] [interjection] - I - have to - give - credits - my charm - [particle] • that - pull, draw - overly sweet sweetness - out - from - your body - be able to - [particle]

Fadel laughs and throws his arms around Style, resting his chin on Style's upper arm. But Style feels stinky after having worked on a car and really doesn't want to be hugged right now because it's kinda gross. Fadel doesn't care, though, and just starts smelling Style on purpose. In Fadel's opinion, Style doesn't smell bad. In fact, Fadel likes Style's smell. Or at least that's what Fadel claims, because Style just can't imagine it to be true. He jokes that Fadel must really be unwell if he likes the smell of gasoline. Style informs Fadel that you can get addicted to that and Fadel responds that he thinks he's already addicted, then. Style smiles fondly. Fadel says he hella likes it to the point that no doctor anywhere can cure it:

I like it very much. โคตรชอบเลย [kôht chôp loiie] extremely, very much - like - [particle for emphasis] Like this, no doctor anywhere can cure it. แบบเนี่ย หมอที่ไหนก็รักษาไม่ได้ [bàep nîia • mŏh - têe năi - gôh - rák-săa - mâi - dâai] like this • doctor - anywhere, somewhere - [sentence link] - cure, treat - not - be able do

What I love about this whole bit is that Style keeps complaining and keeps questioning Fadel's sense of smell, but he still lets Fadel hug him and smell him without trying to shake him off in any way. And ultimately, he is also charmed that Fadel is still so into him, even when he himself feels so dirty and smelly and gross:

(↑ This is Style's face in reaction to Fadel saying he's addicted to the smell of gasoline aka Style's smell, btw. Look at him smiling and leaning closer. This absolutely worked on him.)

Now, the question that we, the audience, get to ask ourselves is just how much of what Fadel is saying and doing here is for show and how much of this is genuine on Fadel's part. Personally, I do think all of the kisses and his opinions on Style's smell come from a genuine place and Fadel just takes what's already there and plays it up a lot more than he usually would. It's both genuine and ingenuine at the same time. In a way, it's also almost as if he's also trying to use the opportunity to get as much out of it for himself as well while he still can. In any case, from the moment he sat down on the bed, Fadel is definitely being more genuine and sincere than compared to earlier at the garage. And Style also reacts to Fadel's behavior differently. In the garage he kept trying to push Fadel away, kept asking him question to get to the bottom of things. But now, especially after Fadel has truthfully pointed out how he's gotten happier and has started smiling more because of Style, Style lets Fadel get closer again. Style still looks confused and skeptical when Fadel hugs him, and while he does lean away from Fadel a little when Fadel gets close, he doesn't try to push him off immediately. It takes over half a minute before he finally wiggles in Fadel's arms and insists on showering for the first time. And when Fadel then just continues to shower him with kisses, Style doesn't try to push him away like he did in the garage, nor does he try to get his own body away from Fadel in any way. He doesn't even try to wiggle his way out again when he repeats that he's gonna take a shower. What's more, back in the garage, Style also kept asking Fadel questions to find out what the hell had suddenly gotten into him, but now, even though it definitely registers that Fadel is clingier than usual, Style is still reassured enough to go along with it and to have flirty banter about being addicted to the smell of gasoline instead of interrogating Fadel about his behavior. Style isn't really pushing Fadel away this time, but goes along with it, not just in letting Fadel shower him with kisses for a significant amount of time or in taking part in the flirty banter, but also later in complying when Fadel asks for kisses. Style even leans a little closer to Fadel when he asks "Happy now?" after obeying to Fadel's wish. And of course Style is still weirded out about Fadel's uncharacteristically clingy behavior, but I think when they're sitting on the bed it's happening more on a subconscious level and his main concern really is that he is gross and stinky and just wants to go get cleaned up already.

And so he tells Fadel just that. That he'll go take a shower. But instead of letting Style go, Fadel just goes back to sniff kissing Style's arm. Style tries again. Fadel stares at him for a moment, then points at both of his own cheeks. Fine. If that is the price Style has to pay for Fadel letting him go take a shower, Style will gladly pay it in full. Style makes sure Fadel is completely satisfied now, even dropping a "krub" on him:

Happy? You happy, krub? พอใจมั้ย พอใจมั้ยครับ [poh-jai - mái • poh-jai - mái - kráp] be satisfied, content, pleased - ? • be satisfied, content, pleased - ? - [krub]

(German speakers: พอใจ [poh-jai] has the same vibe as "zufrieden" to me.)

Fadel finally releases him and Style gets up. But he doesn't get very far before Fadel catches his hand and holds him back. Style turns back around, laughs, and is affectionately annoyed. There really does seem to be something going on with Fadel and Style directly calls him out, questioning him again:

Why are you being so cutesy today? ทำไมวันนี้อ้อนจังเลยอ่ะ [tam-mai - wan-níi - ôhn - jang loiie - àh] why - today - cutesy - so much - [particle] Official subs: You're so weird today.

The word that Style uses here that I phrased as "cutesy" is อ้อน [ôn] which was explained to me as acting a certain cutesy way because you want something from the other person (which can also be something like simply just wanting affection). In the words of my friend, the mood this word conveys is basically "a cat rubbing up against you". And it makes sense for Style to call out Fadel for being so overly clingy and affectionate when Fadel has never really been that way with him before.

To Style's surprise, instead of being more clingy and affectionate (or asking to join Style in the shower, which I personally was expecting to happen), Fadel asks him on a date the next day. Fadel then reveals that it'll be Bison's birthday and Style wants to buy him a present, but Fadel says Style doesn't have to. That it's Kant's duty. Style should buy something for Fadel instead. Style asks on which day his birthday is and Fadel tells him it's on Christmas. Style loves that and tells him: "Lucky you. That’s a good day to be born on. I'll be your Santa Claus sneaking in your house and leaving a present for you." Fadel wants to know what that present will be. Style doesn't say anything, just looks at Fadel for a moment before he leans forward and plants a kiss onto Fadel's lips. When he looks at Fadel afterwards, his expression is full of adoration:

It's as Style's dad said: when Style loves someone, he really truly does. With all of his heart. And that heart full of love is exactly what he will give to Fadel. Fadel laughs. Style's smile widens a tiny bit*. He's in love. Then he turns around, making sure he gets his face just a liiittle bit closer to Fadel's while he turns, and then finally makes it to his shower.

*see second image above

Style can't see the way Fadel's expression darkens after Style has walked away.

No. 3: I Know You Don't Know I Know

The date turns out to be a BB gun war. Of course the lovebirds have teamed up boyfriends vs. boyfriends. Style is in the middle of firing a few shots towards the other team when Fadel stops him. Style tells him that he can handle the enemy himself, but Fadel says Kant has to go through him first. Then he makes a very shady comment: "He started all this, after all." Style squints at Fadel, alarmed and confused.

That's weird. Fadel isn't supposed to know this. Style asks for clarification and Fadel elaborates: "Because he hit on my brother, you got to know me." Or in his actual wording, because I'm having too much fun with this:

Ai'Kant came to hit on my little brother and you came to hit on me. ไอ้กานต์มาจีบน้องกู แล้วมึงก็มาจีบกู [âi Kant - maa - jìip - nóng guu • láew - meung - gôr - maa - jìip - guu] Ai'Kant - come - hit on - my little brother • and - [sentence link] - come - hit on - me

Fadel then repeats that this is how Kant started it and subtly throws Style a challenge: "What did you think I mean?" Or also:

What were you thinking (of/about)? มึงคิดอะไรเนี่ย [mueng - kít - à-rai - nîia] you - think - what - [particle]

While this sure is plausible, Style still isn't very reassured. It seems like a weird time to bring this up, especially with Fadel having acted very out of character the day before. Not to mention, why would Fadel pull a correlation between Kant hitting on Bison and Style hitting on Fadel? For all Fadel should know, him and Style first met when Style crashed into Fadel's car. There is no reason for Style's flirting to be related to Kant hitting on Bison in any way. But Style can't exactly tell Fadel all that, so he brushes Fadel's question off, saying he wasn't thinking of anything. Then he brings the topic back around to their war game: "But you gotta let me play, too." Now here I do desperately need to share Style's actual words, because we've got something very interesting going on here:

But let me take a shot some time, too. แต่มึงให้กูยิงบ้างดิ [dtàe - mueng - hâi - guu - ying - bâang - dì] but - you - let - me - shoot - some - [particle]

(Alt. translations": "But let me shoot some too." or "But let me take some shots.")

Style doesn't just wanna play the game, no, he actively wants to take a shot himself. Might that be foreshadowing? Will Style be shooting someone at some point? If this was a video essay, I would now put a counter in a corner that takes note of every time there is a reference to Style shooting a gun this episode.

Style says Fadel doesn't have to act like his bodyguard all the time and then leans closer to tell Fadel: "I know you’re good at this. But I ain’t no loser, either." There is a lot of weight to Style's words, he really means what he says. This is important to him. He wants to be able to stand his own ground, too. Although, it's actually kind of ironic that Style says this. We all saw how he did in that fight at the host club in episode 3. But then again, maybe watching Fadel take on three grown men on his own while being completely useless in the situation himself has kicked Style into determination to be able to fight for himself alongside Fadel, especially once he found out about Fadel's hitman identity. Or maybe he's played a lot of BB gun war games before and is actually good with guns, but is simply just useless in a fist-fight.

Anyway, this time it's Style who's said something that suspiciously alludes to something that Style actually in reality should not know. He doesn't know that Fadel now knows Style knows and so when Fadel calls him out on it, Style is caught a little off-guard. "How’d you know I’m good at this?", Fadel asks. It's a very pointed question, a suspiciously specific question. Style stutters for a moment before he comes up with a plausible reason: "I can tell from how you hold your gun. It’s obvious you’re a professional." Without Style's knowledge his word choice betrays him again. Right after the words are out of Style's mouth, Fadel suddenly leans over to fire some shots at the other team past Style's shoulder (part of me wonders, if Fadel really did need to shoot right then and there or if he just did it for the dramaaa~~~), then grills Style some more: "Professional what?" Now, here's a the literal translation of how this conversation goes:

S: Just from that I already know you're a professional. รู้เเค่นี้ก็รู้ว่ามึงมืออาชีพ [rúu - kâe née - gôh - rúu wâa - mueng - meu aa-chîip] know - just that - [sentence link] - know that - you - professional F: What profession? อาชีพอะไร [aa-chîip - a-rai] profession, occupation - what

There is definitely something not right here with the way Fadel is phrasing his questions. With the way he is explicitly asking Style to state what Fadel's occupation is, an occupation through which one would gain expertise in how to hold and shoot guns. "What profession?" This is not a genuine question, it's a challenge. Does Fadel know anything that Style doesn't know?

Again Style takes a while to answer, searching Fadel's face for any hints before he says "Professional BB gun shooter."

Fadel laughs and finally stops grilling Style with questions he can't yet answer truthfully. Instead, Fadel drops a cheesy line on him. "I can’t help but get protective over my boyfriend." Although I feel like the Thai version sounds a bit less cheesy (at least the English translation of it, I forgot to ask my friend about the connotations in Thai):

I have a habit of looking after my boyfriend. กูติดนิสัยดูแลแฟน [guu - dtìt ní-săi - duu-lae - faen] I - have a habit (of) - looking after, taking care of - boyfriend

Then, Fadel takes up on Style's wish to get some shots in as well and suggests Style watches his back, telling him not to let anyone shoot Fadel. Style still looks at Fadel with that searching look on his face. Fadel is clearly playing at something, but Style can't figure out what exactly that is. Then Fadel hits him with another pointed question:

I can trust you, right? กูไว้ใจมึงได้ใช่ป่ะ [guu - wái-jai - mueng - dâai - châi bpà] I - trust - you - can - right?

Style still doesn't answer immediately, but instead of question marks, there is now determination in his face. This is a question he can firmly answer from the bottom of his heart. "Yeah. You can trust me." Fadel acknowledges it, but then waves his BB gun at Style in a subtle threat: "Don’t let me down." The message certainly reaches Style clear as day. He doesn't say anything, instead just searches Fadel's face again for answers he can't find.

Fadel gets up and throws himself back into the battle. Style stays put and watches him run off. Style squints a little as he stares after Fadel.

Something was very much not right about this conversations. Fadel's questions were too specific, too threatening even at certain points. Fadel is clearly onto something but Style just can't find the missing puzzle piece that would explain Fadel's recent behavior or all his probing questions. This isn't really the time to dwell on this, though, so after a moment Style gets back to playing as well.

The very first thing we see of Style next after Style says Fadel can trust him is Style shooting Kant in the back, which has me wondering if he will end up metaphorically shooting Kant in the back in a future episode. The "Style + guns" counter is up to 2. Style tells Kant "Love sure makes you do something stupid" which has got to be foreshadowing (exactly what stupid things are gonna be happening out of love?? 👀) and then Fadel walks over, puts his arm around Style's shoulder and brags about him. Style looks at Fadel, his expression content and pleased as they stand there arm in arm. Style got his shots in. He did Fadel proud. He did not let him down.

No. 4: The Power of Love

Now this scene is very interesting, because it's like Style does a complete 180. From the way he talks you'd think he's entirely forgotten how he's called out Fadel for behaving weird and saying weird things in literally every single scene from this episode so far. You'd think he's forgotten how Fadel was suspiciously dodging most of his questions on the garage floor. You'd think he's forgotten about how uncharacteristically sickly sweet and clingy Fadel was when he stayed in Style's bedroom. You'd think he's forgotten about how only earlier that day they were dancing around the topic of Fadel's true identity and how Fadel kept challenging and even subtly threatening him. What happened to the Style that was so very skeptical and suspicious of Fadel all episode?

Now, I think everything Style is saying here makes complete sense for his character. Style has always been a character full of optimism and hope (showcased perfectly well in episode 6) and especially in scenes with Kant he has often been the optimistic counterpart to Kant's pessimism and realism: When Kant was worried about James, Style suggested that James could simply just be out of town. When the Captain was about to arrest the brothers, Style figured the brothers would be free as soon as their boss was caught before Kant reminded him that that's not how it works in real life. When Kant and Style stood in front of closed restaurant doors, Style reminded Kant of and held onto how attached the brothers were to them. Now in the showers, when Kant voices his suspicions, Style is overly confident and optimistic again.

Style tells Kant "you think too much" when Style has done nothing but think a lot in all his scenes with Fadel so far. And all his thinking shows in the way he immediately has counter-arguments ready without even thinking about it. Style has been through all of this in his head already. I don't think that Style is necessarily actively talking himself into believing what he says, because his mood is too good for that and what he says sounds a bit too genuine for it to be addressed to himself. I think this really is the hope within him talking. And, frankly, also his confidence. I mean, look at the two of them. Who wouldn't quit their assassin job to be with them? Style and Kant are that awesome. Style fully believes that. And he fully believes in the power of love.

What was the thing that Style's dad again? When Style loves, he does truly does with all his heart. Style loves so sincerely, so intensely that of course it would feel powerful. Of course there is power in love. Of course it can turn a bad guy good. Why wouldn't it? Fadel went from a grumpy cat to someone who constantly smiles around Style because of Style's love. Fadel wore the matching couple shirts because of Style's love. Fadel danced and sang karaoke in public because of Style's love. Fadel wore fan make-up in public because of Style's love. Why wouldn't Fadel stop killing because of and for Style's love? And why would the same thing not go for Bison and the love Kant has for him? I know there've been some entertaining posts going around making fun of how Style puts killing people on the same level as stealing cars, but that's just genuinely how Style thinks. Because Style doesn't draw a comparison in which one is worse. Both are simply bad. Both, Kant and Bison did bad things. They can connect over that. And the power of love will fix things.

Just like in episode 6, Style refuses to just sit there in misery. He refuses to be stressed as long as there is still a small glimmer of hope that things end well. Yes, Fadel has been acting weird, but until Style has definite proof that something is indeed extremely wrong, he'll go and enjoy life. As long as there is still a positive, plausible explanation or a positive way out, he'll go and enjoy life. There could be something wrong, but there doesn't have to be and so Style chooses to hold onto the thought that there isn't anything wrong for now until proven otherwise. And with that energy, he goes bowling that same night.

No. 5: Eventful Evening

The four of them round off Bison's birthday with a double date at the bowling alley. Style is in the bestest of moods. Kant and Bison walk off for some bowling. Fadel and Style stay back at the table and watch from a distance as Kant hands Bison his birthday present. Style is impressed at how romantic Kant is is being. Style could never. And now that I think about it, that actually seems to be true. Style has been romantic towards Fadel, but from the top of my head I can't remember a single instance in which Style pulled a pre-planned and prepared romantic gesture on Fadel. But that's okay. Because Fadel likes Style exactly the way he is. And Style is cool with that. He continues to say: "But you know, maybe I get like that, too. I could spring a ring on you one day and just ask you to marry me."

You never know! Fadel reacts fondly. Style throws him another happy smile. They both go to take a sip of their beer. Out of the blue, Style starts choking and ends up on the couch. Fadel panics. Style springs a ring on him and goes: "Will you marry me?"

Pronoun time! For just this one sentence, for just the marriage proposal Style switches to the polite phom pronoun before he jumps back to the rude guu pronoun:

แต่งงานกับผมนะครับ [dtàeng ngaan gàp - pŏm - ná - kráp] marry - me - [na] - [krub]

Now, at this point I sincerely need to apologize to those who read my ep6 meta before I went ahead and edited it because I made a really big mistake: I completely forgot to mention a very important language note in a specific scene because there was so much else going on that scene and it was only when I watched the cast reaction to ep6 that it hit me. I have since edited my meta post and added it, but if you missed it let me tell you there is a word play I failed to mention in the scene where Fadel puts make-up on Style: you know when Style says "Then you should put some makeup on, too"? The word he uses here is แต่ง [dtàeng], which is used in the sense of แต่งหน้า [dtàeng nâa] which means "to put make-up on" or is also used in the sense of แต่งงาน [dtàeng ngaan] which means, well, "to get married" or "to marry". In Thai, Style leaves out the second part of the phrase that makes it explicit which of the two it is and so the sentence can be heard either as "So, will you put on make-up with me?" or as "So, will you marry me?"

And it's just veeeery interesting that Style asks Fadel to marry him for the second episode in a row. If it happens again next episode, I'm calling it. But for now, let's wait and see 👀

Style is absolutely delighted that his little prank actually worked on Fadel: "You’re usually too smart for me." Fadel stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head, sighs, and replies: "Not at all. I’m a damn fool. That’s how you got me."

And fun fact: when he says "That's how you got me", in Thai the word that was translated as "got" is หลอก [lòhk] which means "to trick" or "to deceive". Style tricked Fadel. And we know Fadel definitely isn't referring to just the marriage proposal alone. As perceptive as Style has been all episode about Fadel's weird behavior, now the double meaning slips right by him. Personally, I think it's because at this point he's too tipsy to pay attention to this and he's also too good in a mood to care. Besides, he's already decided to be optimistic about Fadel's behavior. Style grins at Fadel, slips the ring back onto his own finger, then holds out his hand to Fadel and looks up at him. With an eye roll, Fadel obliges and pulls Style up onto his feet. Style then excuses himself to go to the restroom.

Style is so tipsy, he is about to fall asleep at the urinal when a random guy he doesn't know walks in and strikes up a conversation with him. Now, I think the whole thing about "We gotta keep these good things, don’t you think? People don’t seem to appreciate antiques anymore" is definitely alluding to something, but we're gonna have to keep watching to find out. And Style certainly wouldn't know, after all he doesn't know this dude. The guy walks into one of the cubicles and honestly, considering the ensuing interaction between Fadel and Style, I think Style is drunk enough that this didn't even fully register with him or maybe he just immediately forgets about it the moment Fadel walks in.

Style is quite surprised to see Fadel enter the restroom as well, but is also very happy about it: "Did you miss me so much you had to follow me to the bathroom?" This thought excites Style. Then Fadel asks about the other guy and starts looking through the stalls. Fadel's behavior is kinda weird again, but I think this time around Style really is too drunk to properly take note of it and connect it with Fadel's secret life. And as mentioned before, Style has decided to focus on the positives and not to stress unless given a solid reason to do so. And so for a moment Style observes Fadel checking the stalls before pushing Fadel against the wall and asking if he is jealous. When Fadel finally says yes, Style huffs a little, looking kinda pleased. And I can't help but think of @secriden's post about how back in episode 5 when Style said "I hope you're not the jealous type like your brother is" his body was saying the exact opposite of his words. And let me just share @braceletofteeth's tag on that very post too, while I'm at it:

#Style wants Fadel to claim him as his so bad it makes him look stupid #just like he takes pride in choosing his own man #he would be proud to be chosen as Fadel's man #delighted‚ if Fadel let others (and Style) know he's the one who earned the space reserved for his special someone #in his heavily secured heart #if he was so special to Fadel that he wouldn't want him to be taken away #or to share him with anyone else

I think we can really see this here in this scene as well. Fadel claims he's jealous and from Style's POV is in search for the random dude in order to take it up with him and defend his position as Style's boyfriend and that thought immediately has Style horny for Fadel. He advances on Fadel, trapping him against the wall on one side and goes on a monologue about how he only has Fadel now. The thought of Fadel being jealous has Style so horny for Fadel, he's ready to hook up with him right then and there in the bathroom stall. By now, Style has most definitely gotten too distracted and as a result forgotten that the random dude from earlier is still there. Lucky for Keen, Fadel declines and leaves the bathroom. Style stays back for a moment, watches him walk away, licks his lips and then follows him out.

Side note: Okay, so over my previous metas I've been very clear about how I think that Style isn't the kind of person to enjoy sleeping around all that much (at least not as much as Kant does). And in my ep3 meta I said that I think Style enjoys flirting around much more than sleeping around, attention hoe and chatty cat that he is. Now here in the bathroom, when he says that he only has Fadel now that of course could be taken as Style hooks up with many people. However, what he says right before that strengthens my belief that Style much rather flirts than actually hooks up: "I know I’m cute and all that. It’s only normal people strike up a conversation." Style never shuts up. And flirting? Hitting on someone? Is typically done via talking. So of course he'll engage with people striking up a conversation. And also, Style calls himself cute. I mean, I'm ace so I wouldn't know, but if you wanna end up in bed with someone wouldn't you like them to consider you "hot" or "sexy" rather than "cute"? At least that's how I'm imagining it that it goes (allos feel free to share some personal experience that I'm lacking). Anyway, yeah. I think, Style very much enjoys the whole flirting part. After all, that'll give him both attention as well as an excuse to talk.

When Fadel and Style return from the bathroom, to Style's surprise he finds Kant with a kid. Style immediately walks over to say hello. I've seen discussions and headcanons on Style potentially helping Kant raise Babe. So far we saw Babe and Style in a scene together only one single time and they didn't even interact, so we don't really know what Style's relationship with Babe is like, but it certainly is quite likely that Style is an honorary older brother or uncle to Babe. Another thing I'm thinking is that Style probably also simply just likes kids. He is very excited and motivated to interact with the kid and I'm wondering if Style would like to have children of his own some time. After all, he did seem very open to the idea of being impregnated by Fadel back in episode 4.

But from one moment to the next his happy little interaction is interrupted by an unexpected gun shot. Some guy is waving around a gun and screaming bloody murder over his (ex) girlfriend. Style stays with Kant and the kid. That is, until Fadel claims to be the girl's new boyfriend. Maybe you've already seen a post about Style's outcry going around, but if you haven't, then let me just explain what Style literally says when he goes "Take it back!"

ผัวเค้าเหี้ยอะไร [pŭua - káo - hîia - àrai] husband - her - fuck, damn - what

Now, several things here: the characters use the word ผัว [pŭua] which is a slang term for "husband" which is also used in the sense of "boyfriend" (meaning, as far as I've picked up on the word doesn't mean that the people are married for real, though I might be wrong about this). In the following I'll use "man", because "husband" sounds too formal and "hubby" also sounds kinda weird in this context. Next, the word เหี้ย [hîia] is a curse word kinda like "fuck/fucking" or "shit" or "damn". Word for word the Thai sentence makes "her man fuck what" (alt.: "her man fucking what"). The sentiment of it is roughly:

Her man, my ass.

The fuck you on about, her man??

Her man, the fuck??

Her man, fuck no.

What the fuck, her man??

Take your pick. Style is very upset about this, even if rationally he knows that Fadel is doing it do protect the girl from being murdered. But in his drunken state and this being a life-or-death situation, he reacts emotionally instead (which tends to be his main route even when he's sober anyway, it's just worse now). This brings us back to: Style wants Fadel to claim him as his so bad it makes him look stupid (quoted from @braceletofteeth). Only minutes ago Style was excited at the prospect of Fadel being jealous and fighting for him and now here Fadel is, claiming someone else as his in a hall full of people. It stings, even if it's just pretend. Fadel is his boyfriend, thank you very much. Style's had to work hard, fight hard to even get to this position and he's not gonna let anyone, not even Fadel himself, take that away from him, goddammit. "Her man, the fuck?? You're MY boyfriend!!" But Kant pulls Style back down, worried about Style's safety. Style lets it go.

In the meantime, the assassin brothers are working on taking the shooter down and each gets hurt in the process. Both Kant and Style run to their respective boyfriends. Fadel shoos Style away, though, ordering him to check on Bison first. Style looks up and with terror realizes that the shooter isn't being checked on and could cause more harm at any moment. Style jumps to his feet and runs to the gun, picks it up and shoves it into the shooter's face without any hesitation. And that's a 3 on our "Style + guns" counter. Three times is a pattern, no?

Now, I've seen people wondering if Style maybe has some experience with guns from the way he confidently pointed it at the man. It could be a possibility (after all he seemed to have a handle on the BB guns as well), but I think a big reason why he reacted like this is that Style simply just likes to help and tends to act like a mediator (when he's not actively picking the fights himself). His reaction here really reminds me of the way he also threw himself into the fist fight at the host club, despite being a terrible fighter and standing no chance against those men. He sees that the situation is dangerous and his main desire is that it is resolved with as little harm being caused as possible. Style isn't really thinking here in this moment (in the sense of that he's actively using his brain). He acts on instinct and his instinct is telling him to keep the gun away from the shooter and to make sure the guy doesn't cause any more harm. Style's desire to protect his loved ones is so strong he doesn't even have the capacity to think about what he's doing here and whether he is even capable of shooting the gun in the first place and what that could potentially do to his mental state if he shoots (and possibly kills) someone. There is only "MUST PROTECT" going on in his mind. Finally, staff drags the dangerous man away. Style calls an ambulance at Kant's request.

No. 6: Signs (Of Worries)

In the process of taking down the shooter and saving the two women, Fadel hurt his arm and is now getting it treated at the hospital. And of course, Style is right by his side. As soon as the nurse is gone, Style starts asking Fadel worried questions. When Fadel claims that it doesn't hurt, Style is a little bit done with Fadel's constant need to pretend: "Just admit when it hurts. You don’t have to be tough all the time." Style loves Fadel, Style wants to be there for Fadel through the good times and even more so through the bad times. And especially in the bad times he doesn't want to spend the entire time having to guess how his boyfriend is doing, how his boyfriend is feeling. He wants to be a safe space for Fadel to be open and vulnerable. And just to hit the message home he tells Fadel out loud to make sure Fadel really doesn't miss it or can't ignore it: "I’m worried about you, you know? I thought you were a goner." Actually, in Thai he's more vague about it, he doesn't say that he was afraid of Fadel dying specifically:

I was afraid something would happen to you. กลัวมึงเป็นไรไปอ่ะ [gluua - mueng - bpen rai - bpai - àh] afraid - you - have a problem - [particle]

Also, he doesn't say he was "worried", he says he was "โคตร [kôht] worried". โคตร [kôht] is an intensifier, so basically Style is saying he is "super worried", not just "worried".

Fadel shoots him down, telling him not to overdo it. But Style isn't!!! He just watched his boyfriend go through a situation that could have potentially killed him if something had gone wrong. Not to mention, said boyfriend's brother is now lying at the very same hospital with a stab wound, because something went wrong. Style has every right to make a big deal out of it, because it is. To him it is. With worried puppy eyes he continues to say: "Can you please at least give me a sign before you do something like that again? I’m always here to help."

I want to share a more literal translation again, not because the content differs but because there's something about the original phrasing that I like:

Next time you're gonna do something, give me a sign. ทีหลังมึงจะทำอะไรอ่ะก็ส่งสัญญาณดิ [tii lăng - mueng - jà - tam - àrai - àh - gôh - sòng - săn-yaan - dì] next time - you - will - do - something - [sentence link] - send - signal - [particle] I'm always ready to help you. กูพร้อมช่วยมึงเสมออยู่แล้ว [guu - próm - chûuay - mueng - sà-mĕr - yùu - láew] I - ready - help - you - always - [aux] - already

I like that the first sentence is phrased like an imperative, not a question. Of course, in this moment Style is asking Fadel to do something specific, but the question is only implied. It's not a "Can you please do this?". No, it's a "Do this!", instead. It's an order. And what I find even more interesting (which we have in the translation too) is that Style doesn't say "Please don't do this again". He isn't keeping Fadel from doing dangerous things. Fadel is allowed to do them. But Style requires a sign first. A warning. A little heads-up so that he can mentally prepare. And even more so that he can help Fadel. "I'm always ready to help", he says. He is not just here to help but he is ready to jump to his feet at a moment's notice and help Fadel no questions asked.

He waits for Fadel to say something. Fadel asks about Bison. Style informs him that Kant is with Bison and Fadel starts to get up, saying he'll stay the night with his brother and orders Style to go home. Style has been sent home by Fadel many, many times before, so he is used to this. However, back then it was before they were a couple and Fadel sending Style away always made sense, because Style was in fact annoying Fadel and Style was aware of that fact. But now it's different, because now Fadel genuinely enjoys Style's presence and Style know that fact, too. And as always, Style won't let Fadel get rid of him so easily and so he holds Fadel back and starts questioning him about his weird behavior again: "What’s with you? You were so lovey-dovey an hour ago." Then he leans closer and takes Fadel's face between his hands, asking: "Is your brain okay? Did you hit your head?" And while the words Style is saying are certainly meant to be a joke, the sentiment behind them is 10000% serious. Something is not right with Fadel, something hasn't been right with Fadel since the day before, actually and lowkey even since the love confession at the diner. Style genuinely wants to know what's going on with Fadel. That's not a joke, there is nothing funny about this, even if he is phrasing it in a light-hearted way.

But Fadel shakes him off and moves to walk away again. Now Style gets stressed. There is absolutely no way he is leaving Fadel's side right now. He holds him back and yields, offering to take Fadel to Bison. Then he runs off to grab a wheelchair and maneuvers Fadel into it. Fadel humors him and Style wheels him off.

Bison is still sleeping when they arrive at his room. Kant gives them the update on Bison's health. Fadel announces once again that he'll stay with Bison overnight. Style is against it and comes up with sensible reasons why Fadel shouldn't. Fadel's arm is hurt and Style wants him to go home and rest. Fadel's well-being is a priority for Style right now. Kant can take care of Bison for a while, it's fine. Fadel can and should take a break and recover a little bit. Finally, Fadel agrees, even if he's not very happy with the situation. But despite him yielding to Style, he does speak out a warning to Kant: "But while I’m gone, if something happens to my brother, it’s your fault." The last sentence is even more direct in Thai:

You must take responsibility. มึงต้องรับผิดชอบ [mueng - dtông - ráp-pìt-chôp] you - must - take responsibility, be responsible

Fadel isn't just telling him that he will be blaming Kant for Bison's disappearance, but he's saying "You will be taking responsibility for his disappearance, you will pay for it". It's a threat. And in Thai, Style actually acknowledges that Fadel's words are a threat when he stands up for Kant:

And why are you threatening Ai'Kant? แล้วมึงจะไปขู่ไอ้กานต์ทำไม [láew - mueng - jà - bpai - kùu - âi - Kant - tam-mai] and - you - will - go - threaten - [prefix] - Kant - why, what for Official subs: Don’t give Kant a hard time, dude. Kant didn't do anything wrong. การต์ไม่ได้ผิดอะไรเลยนะ [Kant - mâi dâai - pìt - à-rai - loiie - ná] Kant - not - be/do wrong - anything, something - [particle] - [na] Official subs: None of this is his doing.

There is no reason for Fadel to threaten Kant when Kant was in no way involved with the insane man at the bowling alley that attacked Bison. Kant promises he'll take good care of Bison. Fadel just sits there wordlessly. Then, without a warning he gets up and walks out. Style calls after him: "Do you have to be so stubborn?" which in Thai is actually:

You're hurt and you're still stubborn?! เจ็บแล้วยังดื้ออีก [jèp - láew - yang - dêu - èek] hurt - and - still - stubborn - (once) more

I wanted to share this because I wanted to draw attention to how Style mentions Fadel being hurt again even when Style is complaining about his behavior. Fadel's injury is still very much on Style's mind. He just wants to take care of Fadel and be there for him. And so he runs after Fadel.

No. 7: Heed My Warning

Style follows Fadel into the hallway and tries to convince him to get back into the wheelchair again and to let Style take him home. But again Fadel tries to get rid of him: "I can walk. Just go back to your garage." Something is seriously not right about Fadel's behavior. Style looks at him searchingly, trying to figure him out:

Then he steps closer to Fadel and continues his fight. "I know you can. But boyfriends are supposed to take care of you at a time like this." I just want you to know that when he says "in times like this" the literal translation is something like "when you're sick and hurt":

ตอนเจ็บตอนป่วย [dton - jèp - dton - bpùuay] when - hurt - when - sick

Fadel is hurt and Style is worried and he just wants to look after his boyfriend, goddammit. But instead, Style is met with a warning: "Once my brother gets better, we have some business to finish with you two."

The word Fadel uses here for "finish" in Thai is สะสาง [sà-săang] which the dictionary translates as "to clear up" or "to solve" and my friend who I asked about this word defined as:

to finish something and leave nothing unfinished

Yeah, Fadel is out for murder and he's gonna make damn well sure the job will be done properly and to the end. The sentiment reaches Style. He's confused. Where is this threat suddenly coming from? "What are you talking about? Sounds scary as hell." Fadel agrees. He repeats what he's tried to tell Style before, except this time the warning serves as a threat, a direct attack: "You should probably be wary of me." Style looks taken aback. Fadel continues his threat: "Whatever act we’ve put on up until now won’t be necessary anymore." Then, Fadel walks off. Style watches him go, speechless and alarmed. He gulps, not once, but twice.

The time for optimism and hope is over. Style has to face it: something is worryingly wrong with the way Fadel has been acting. Once back at his garage, he sits and thinks about Fadel's words again. Fadel knows something, but Style just can't figure out what exactly that something is. He grabs his phone and calls Kant, presumably to discuss the conversation with him and to warn him and to make sure Kant is safe. Kant doesn't pick up. Style has a really bad feeling about this.

No. 8: The Naked Truth

It's the next day and Style is back at the hospital. He doesn't even make it to Bison's room before he is stopped in his tracks. The police is here. Style stops a nurse and learns that Bison has kidnapped Kant. Style hides in the restroom to call Kant. Kant still isn't picking up. This is very very bad. But before Style can take action, someone grabs him from behind. Only seconds later, Style falls unconscious. Headcanons are out on whether Style could tell it was Fadel who attacked him by the feel of his body or not.

When Style wakes up, he finds himself tied up at a pool wearing no clothes save for his underwear. As most people in this situation would probably do, Style starts calling for help. And what's interesting is that he doesn't really seem panicky about it when he initially starts shouting. It's more concern than fear. It's only towards the end once it starts to sink in for him that he really does seem to be completely alone that the fear sets in. Except then he hears a familiar voice: "Stop shouting and shut up. No one can hear you here."

When Style asks what Fadel is doing and why he tied him up half-naked, Style's voice sounds a little stressed but there is also something reproachful about it. Fadel demands to hear the whole truth (Or one could also say... the naked truth. With the way he stripped Style of all his clothing). "What truth?" Style asks, and now the fear that was there a moment ago right before Fadel revealed himself is gone. Instead, Style is truly angry. He ain't got no time for these games. His best friend has been taken god knows where by a killer who could be doing god knows what to him (after all, Style doesn't know Bison as well as he knows Fadel) and he also isn't in the mood to be sitting around tied up and naked at a pool while getting a gun waved into his face by his boyfriend. Especially when he has no idea what the fuck his boyfriend is even on about. But luckily, Fadel explains. Remember how at the end of my ep6 meta I said "Style is missing a key piece of the puzzle and even if he can tell that something is off, to Style it still looks like a happy picture. To Style it still is a happy picture"?

Style asks "What truth?" and Fadel says "That you and your friend have been fooling me and my brother. You work for the police." And there it is. The last crucial piece of the puzzle that Style had been missing since the end of last episode to see the full picture.

Oh. There are several realizations happening in Styles reaction here. Fadel knows. Fadel knows that Style knows. And now Style also knows that Fadel knows that Style knows. Style has been trying so hard to get Fadel to drop the truth and now the moment is finally here. No more dancing around this topic. And also, all of Fadel's recently odd behavior suddenly makes perfect sense. It's all falling into place. During the BB gun war Style already had his suspicions that there was something that Fadel knew about and then when Fadel threatened him at the hospital in a way it just proved his suspicions. And now Style finally knows what exactly it is that Fadel had found out about. And Style now also understands that Fadel found out a wrong truth, or rather an inaccurate truth that paints a wrong picture of Style. And so Style clears it up: "I don’t know anything about those cops. Kant asked me to take you out so you could leave him alone and he could freely investigate." The anger that was in Style's voice before the reveal subsides when he goes into his defense and instead he is annoyed and impatient. After all, he is still naked and tied up at a pool. And his best friend is still missing from having been kidnapped by an actual assassin. Style doesn't have time for this argument right now. Fadel asks him another question: "What did he get out of it?" Style replies "I don’t know. That ain’t my business" and his tone is even more annoyed and also kind of exasperated now. How the fuck should he know?? Why is Fadel bothering him with this?? His only job was to make Fadel his boyfriend. That was his only role in this. He didn't have anything more to do with this.

Fadel wants to know where Kant took Bison to. Style is even more annoyed at this point. Yeah, I was trying to find my friend, too, before you got in my way and abducted me, you fucking idiot. Fadel doesn't believe it when Style says he, too, was looking for Kant. Now Fadel is getting annoyed and impatient as well. "Stop freaking lying." Style is frustrated. "I'm not lying." He informs Fadel of what the nurse said about Bison taking Kant and running away to some unknown location. Style is fed up. He really isn't in the mood for Fadel's stupid interview. He just wants it to be over. "Don’t hurt me, Fadel," he continues. And what I love about this is that there is absolutely no fear in his voice when he says this, no plea for his life. Because he doesn't say it in reaction to something Fadel said or did. Sure, there's a gun to Style's head that could be triggered at any moment, but the thing is that Style has been having this argument with a gun pointed at him for a full minute now and nothing has happened so far and so Style doesn't feel like he is in any immediate danger. And Fadel doesn't even do anything to indicate that he's about to use the gun on Style or that he's about to hurt him in any other way after Style explains that it was Bison who took Kant instead of the other way around. Fadel just stands there immobile, not acting significantly more threatening than he has for the past minute, so there is no reason for Style to be afraid. And it shows in the tone of his voice that he isn't afraid. When Style says "Don't hurt me" his voice sounds annoyed and irritated and frankly, just kind of done. It's almost as if he's saying Just drop the tough act already. Because Style knows it's an act. And I just wanna share something that @secriden wrote here, and I know this paragraph is actually in relation to Fadel's uncharacteristically clingy behavior all episode and to Style's lines that are about to follow, but when I read @secriden's words they had me thinking that this also goes for the seemingly tough act that Fadel is putting up in front of Style, not just the played up sweetness:

In the midst of all the secrets and lies between them, ever since [Style] found out about Fadel's secret and decided he was going to keep pursing him anyway, Style has been chasing and chasing Fadel's sincerity. And each precious revelation that Fadel gave him -- his parents' murder, his inability to trust, his desire for something genuine from Style -- has been carefully stored away in Style's heart like nuggets of gold. Which is why Fadel's performance was doomed from the start; because Style was moved by the true things and not the lies, and Fadel's pretensions can have no effect when Style's heart now has the ability to recognise that which he has already grown to love.

Style has gotten to know Fadel so well that he can recognize when Fadel is being sincere or not, whether it's about Fadel's affections or Fadel's threats. He's gotten to know all these different sides of Fadel, has learned to read him and has learned to differentiate between what is true and what isn't, the way Fadel has learned to differentiate the sincerity and the insincerity in Style's words and actions, too. Which is another reason why Fadel is doomed as well, because after all this time he, too, can tell when Style is being sincere or not. And what Style is about to say to him is indisputably sincere.

Fadel demanded the whole truth from Style, but there is one truth Style hasn't told him yet, at least not in explicit words anyway. And so he continues: "I know I worked for the police, but that was before I knew who you are. Now that I know you, I really love you, Fadel."

And let me just share my own translations again:

Even if it's true that I was a police informant, it was before I knew the real you. ถึงกูจะเป็นสายตำรวจก็จริงอ่ะ แต่นั่นมันก่อนที่จะรู้ตัวจริงของมึง [tĕung - guu - jà bpen - săai dtam-rùuat - gôh - jing - àh • dtàe - nân - man - gòn têe jà - rúu - dtuua jing kŏng meung] even if - I - be - police informant - [sentence link] - true - [particle] • but - that - it - before - know - real you But now that I know the real you, I love you for real, Fadel. แต่พอกูรู้ตัวจริงของมึงแล้วอ่ะ กูรักมึงจริงๆนะฟาเดล [dtàe - poh - guu - rúu - dtuua jing kŏng meung - láew - àh • guu - rák - mueng - jing jing - ná - Fadel] but - when - I - know - real you - already - [particle] • I - love - you - really - [na] - Fadel

You'll notice that I highlighted something there. I actually discussed the term ตัวจริง [dtuua jing] (= real self) with a native speaker friend and I even showed him the scene (bless his heart for putting up with my antics) and he said when he first heard those lines he was a little confused why it would be phrased like this, because usually in Thai they'd phrase it a little differently. We were hanging out in person and unfortunately I didn't write it down, so now I don't remember what the way my friend said it's supposed to be phrased as was, but yeah, apparently this is odd phrasing. Which is why it's even more interesting to me that in episode 5 Fadel says this:

The real me might be scarier than you think. ตัวจริงกูอ่ะ อาจจะน่ากลัวกว่าที่มึงคิดก็ได้ [dtuua jing goo - àh • àat-jà - nâa gluua gwàa - tîi - mueng - kít - gôh dâai] real me - [particle] • might - scarier - that - you - think - [particle]

The wording is basically the same (yes, Style adds the word ของ [kŏng] (= of, from) before the pronoun, but this word is optional and the meaning stays the exact same) and it just makes me wonder if Style's words were written as a deliberate call back to the conversation in episode 5. Back then Style asked Fadel to fully open up to him and told him "I promise that no matter who you are, I’ll still like you". Except back then the message didn't fully reach Fadel, because the cards weren't all out in the open just yet. But now they are. Style knows who Fadel is and Fadel knows that Style knows who Fadel is. And Style has actually gotten to know even more sides of Fadel since that conversation from episode 5 took place. "Now that I know the real you, I love you for real." He loves the grumpy side that always yells at him, the badass side that takes down three grown men in a fight, the happy side that loves heavy metal music and putting on band make-up, the side that has a passion for cooking, and ultimately even the dark side that is capable of killing people without remorse, even if he has yet to witness Fadel actually murdering someone. He isn't scared of him, not even when Fadel is waving a gun around his head. Style loves all of what makes Fadel Fadel.

This, however, is the one truth Fadel does not want to hear, can't hear right now. When he yells "Shut up" at Style, it's the loudest and most aggressive tone he's had in this entire conversation so far. At the same time he also advances on Style, putting his leg up on the step and shoving the gun even closer to Style's head. The yelling and the movement comes so sudden that it actually startles Style. Fadel continues to speak out a threat: "Say you love me one more time, and you’ll be lying at the bottom of this pool." He even mimics a kick. Style complains: "Hey!" Don't kick me into the pool, the fuck!? "I mean it!" Or in his actual words:

I'm telling the truth! กูพูดความจริงเว้ย [guu - pûut - kwaam jing - wóiie] I - say - truth - [particle]

Style is starting to get a little stressed now. What's Fadel threatening to kick him into the pool for when Style is literally telling Fadel the truth just like Fadel demanded? He's been telling Fadel all the information he has, all that he knows but Fadel still won't release him. Instead Fadel just keeps threatening him. Style really doesn't feel like ending up at the bottom of an empty pool, especially not when his best friend is being held captive himself god knows where. All while Style is stuck telling truths that Fadel doesn't want to believe, despite having demanded to hear them. So Style throws Fadel a little reminder:

People who are about to die speak all of the truth. คนจะตายก็พูดความจริงกันทั้งนั้นอ่ะ [kon - jà dtaai - gôh - pûut - kwaam jing - gan táng nán - àh] people - about to die - [sentence link] - say - truth - all, every - [particle] Official subs: I wouldn’t lie with a gun to my head like this.

When people are faced with death they don't typically lie. They tend to speak the whole truth. So why the fuck would Style be lying now? Having this yelling match while being tied up and naked at an abandoned pool is getting really stupid now. It also won't bring Kant and Bison back. If the truth and the power of Style's love can't bring an end to this situation then maybe Fadel's concern and love for his brother will. So Style, still in a rather irritated mood, suggests a deal: "Untie me and I’ll help you look for Bison and my friend." But Bison is another vulnerable spot for Fadel, and just like before he reacts in anger, waving his gun into Style's face: "I ain’t stupid anymore. I don’t trust a word that comes out of your mouth." And for those of you who are curious about the literal wording:

Whatever the hell you're saying, I'm not listening to you. มึงพูดเชี่ยอะไรกูไม่ฟังมึงหรอก [mueng - pûut - chîia à-rai - guu - mâi - fang - mueng - ròk] you - say - whatever the hell - I - not - listen - you - [particle]

No matter what Style says, Fadel won't hear him. The previously annoyed and angered expression on Style's face falls and his eyes widen a bit. Oh shit, you're for real?

His words are his best and only weapon that Style has, a weapon that is essentially rendered powerless if Fadel refuses to listen in any way. I think this is the moment Style realizes that there is a good chance that he can't talk his way out of this after all. That he might be wrong about Fadel sparing his life. After all, Style once was also overly confident that Fadel liked him enough to not do him any harm only for Fadel to punch him in the gut and abandon him on the cold, hard ground in some random storage room. There is a good chance that Fadel will pull the trigger for real. Fadel continues to rage: "You chose the wrong man to fool, asshole."

I think this is the first time that Style is honestly afraid since the very beginning of the scene when it sank in that he was alone. Where before his "don't hurt me" was mostly annoyed, this time when he shouts "Fadel, no!" he is is genuinely scared for his life. He leans away from Fadel, his eyes squinted close as he waits for the likely life-ending shot. He can't see the way Fadel's hand is shaking. The shot doesn't come. Style opens his eyes again. The screen goes black and we are left to find out later how exactly this ends.

No. 9: Hitman Teerak

Fadel did not kill Style. And Style knows for a fact that if Fadel didn't kill him back at the pool then there is no way he's killing him now. Style can afford to be cocky again. All the fear from when we left him has vanished completely and he is back to his overly confident, charmingly annoying self. And he's also wearing clothes again.

Fadel is still pointing a gun at him, but Style doesn't give a shit anymore. In fact, he is very unimpressed. When he asks "Where are you taking me?", he sounds annoyed again, if not downright bored like a child that doesn't wanna do a chore their parent gave them. By the way, the Thai version of this is even sassier:

Where are you taking me to kill me? มึงจะพากูไปฆ่าที่ไหนเนี่ย [mueng - jà - paa - guu - bpai - kâa - tîi năi - nîia] you - will - bring, take - me - go - kill - where - [particle]

Fadel informs him that the place doesn't matter, because Style will die either way. Style sighs a tired sigh and closes his eyes. Fadel really is that set on killing him, apparently, huh? It's getting old. Fadel says: "But before I kill you, I have to see my brother." Style opens his eyes again and turns around to Fadel. He really is getting tired of this. "Do you know where he is?" Fadel says no, but Style needs to help find him. Then Fadel makes a vow: "Once I find him, I’m going to kill you both." Style hesitates, then decides not to fight Fadel on this. He's tired of fighting this stupid fight. If Fadel wants to be stubborn then alright, Style will yield. And so he exasperatedly agrees with Fadel: "I know I deserve to die." Then he turns a bit away from Fadel and says in a pouty voice: "Well, at least I won’t die alone." Style is sulking. Fine. Kill me if you must. But at least I will die side by side with a friend and it won't be a lonely death, I guess. It's the little things in life. He looks at Fadel again. Fadel squints. "Shut up and drive." Suddenly there is impatience in Fadel's voice which was so firm and resolute the entire scene up until now. Then, Fadel goes back to threatening Style with death: "One wrong move, I’m blowing your brain out." Style is severely unimpressed. Or rather, he is impressed but certainly not in the way Fadel would want him to be impressed.

Style knows he's got Fadel now. Any death threat from now on will be utterly meaningless. Fadel won't kill him. Style goes for malicious compliance, but makes sure he makes a big sassy and kind of flirty show out of it to demonstrate just how much not scared of Fadel and his tough guy act he is. Because that's all it is, by now. An act. An act that Style will go along with, if it makes Fadel feel better. "Kruuuub, Mr. Hitman." Yes, yes, you'll kill me, I got it. "I’m scared enough as it is, no need to threaten me." You really don't need to repeat your death threats over and over, I'm sick of hearing them, uh, I mean, just look how terrified of you I am. "I know my life is in the palm of your hand." You've been pointing this gun at me for ages now and I'm still here, alive and kicking. Yes, I really, truly am at your mercy and so very scared for my life. "Why don’t you just take a nap instead or something?"

The last line actually makes me laugh even more in Thai:

Why don't you take the time that you spend threatening me to take a nap instead? มึงเอาเวลาที่มึงขู่กูอ่ะไปนอนมั้ย [mueng - ao - weh-laa - tîi - mueng - kùu - guu - àh - bpai nawn - mái] you - take - time - that - you - threaten - me - [particle] - go to bed - ?

Threatening me is pointless. How about you do something more productive with your time? Ain't that an idea? Style ends his "Fine, I'll fold to your wishes"-monologue in our beloved iconic line: "I’ll drive you where you want me to go, my hitman-teerak." As stated before, I'm always ready to help you, my love <3

Fadel keeps a poker face and orders Style into the car. Style doesn't move, he just defiantly tilts his head and looks at Fadel like well, watcha gonna do to me if I don't?

Fadel loses his temper a little and yells at Style to get going. Style finally moves, but right before he turns he smiles as he looks at Fadel and his eyes are full of warmth and affection. He loves this man.

Halfway on the way to the car door, Style turns around again and throws Fadel another warm, amused, and very pleased smile.

He knows he's already won. Life couldn't be going better for him right now. Style gets into the car and Fadel follows. And off they go, driving into the sunset off on their little road trip to find Kant and Bison.

Once in the car, Fadel lifts his gun back up at Style's head. Style throws him a look. And we all know Style would have jumped Fadel and ripped all his clothes off right then and there if he hadn't been busy driving a car. Fadel lowers the gun again. Style keeps looking over at Fadel, which has me nervously scream look at the fucking road oh my god you're gonna die via a car crash if not by Fadel's gun. Fadel finally takes that nap that Style suggested. Style keeps driving. He is happy and content and very satisfied. Fadel may have put his walls back up, may be pushing him away and threatening him again like he did before they started dating, but that's okay. Style has annoyed his way into Fadel's life once before, he can easily do it again. Especially now that he actually knows Fadel, knows how to handle him, knows how to get through to him. And this time around the flirting is real from the start. And what's even better, what's the biggest relief of it all is that the big secret is now fully out in the open. It had been weighing Style down a lot, but now he can finally talk about it. They can finally talk about it. And now Style can finally hammer it into Fadel's head for good that he isn't scared of him in any way, that he really has embraced him with his hitman identity and all. Style won't have to allude to it anymore in the future, no, he can explicitly say it. And he can show Fadel that it's worth for Fadel to open up 100% to Style, that Style will stick by his side no matter what and that Fadel can absolutely trust him. Style will make him believe that he absolutely, undeniably, irrevocably loves him. Life is going great.

#the heart killers #fadelstyle #thk #thk ep7 #stylefadel #adrm #my meta #thkmetamine #am i posting this 4:15am when i have to get up for a uni class at 8:30am? maybe so #also for this one i've started to put some of the more known particles in the interlinear translation #and added some of the prefixes and krubs to my own translations #do you guys want me to keep that up?#anyway i need to go to sleep byeee

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