#the mole thing has been there since say one

[jaratedeguadalupe]

my new thing is drawing remus with a mole by his eye and a slit by the right eyebrow, maybe an eyebrow piercing even

[a-sleepy-ginger]

21/6/24

❊✺❂✺❊

Had alot of fun drawing

Yuru camp

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[hairmetal666]

The worst thing that ever happened to Eddie Munson is a spinning studio opening in the building next to the neighborhood store he runs with his uncle.

"That's the third one today," Eddie whines as soon as the door snicks shut behind a woman with a glossy high ponytail and electric pink polka dot Lululemon sports bra and bicycle short set.

"You see her ponytail?" Nancy asks. She's flipping through a stack of flashcards. "Never seen a twenty-five year old look fresh off a facelift."

"I hate them so much. What kind of job is 'cycling instructor' anyway?"

"I'm concerned about the amount of makeup they wear to workout. That's gotta be bad for the pores."

"I'm concerned about the collective IQ holding that operation together. Like, do they know how to get out if there's a fire alarm?"

Nancy shoves him, but snickers too. It's not like he really has anything against the instructors. They're fine. Polite and usually harmless. It's the principle of it. It's not fair, that they get to continue into an adulthood that's still all about them being pretty and popular, without any substance.

"You've done college bio," he says. He notices a couple of cereal boxes have fallen over, hops off the counter to push them back in place. "What are the chances their muscles are so big it's cutting off the blood flow to their brains? Is that a thing that can happen?"

There's no response from the front of the store, which isn't unusual. Mostly, she lets him talk and chimes in when the mood strikes. Since she seems uninterested in offering her input, he straightens the cereal and keeps gabbing.

"The other day, one of the guys came in, and his shorts were so tight, I could see his balls. Not just the outline, but the wrinkles. I could almost make out individual pubes. Is that one of those things where they pretend they're limiting drag, or whatever, to improve their speed? Even though it's a stationary bike--"

He turns, the shelves straightened, and literally only three feet from him is one of the aforementioned cycling instructors. Unfortunately, he's the most beautiful man Eddie has ever seen. Even more unfortunately, he definitely heard Eddie making fun of them.

"Uhh," Eddie says.

The guy smiles. "Sorry, my giant muscles make it hard to get around sometimes."

And Eddie just. Like. What the fuck. "That must make it difficult to cycle." God, god but this guy is so fucking, devastatingly hot and all Eddie has done is antagonize him. And not even intentionally!

"I get by," he smiles and Eddie almost swoons. "Hey, when I bend down, can you let me know about the ball sitch? I have a wholesome image to maintain."

Is he flirting? It seems like he's flirting? But that's weird, right? He caught Eddie talking shit, why would he--

"It would be my pleasure to look at your balls," his mouth says before his brain can catch up.

The guy snorts, smile getting bigger. "I don't know, now I might be self-conscious. Might have a wayward pube."

"How will you know if someone doesn't take a look?"

The guy steps closer, cocks his head to the side. He's got this impressive sweep of hair that barely tumbles, his throat dotted with cute little moles and freckles. Eddie's mouth is watering, why is his mouth watering? "I usually get to know someone a little bit better before they get that privilege."

For once, he's speechless and now he's blushing, can feel it up to his ears and down to his nipples.

The guy leans even closer, breath ghosting against Eddie's skin. "Too bad you hate exercise instructors."

This social interaction has already been a disaster, but he makes it even worse by responding with an indignant squeak.

The guy winks, can't hide his genuine amusement at Eddie's expense. "You ever want to make it up to me, you can come to one of my classes."

With that, he walks up to Nancy at the counter, and Eddie gets his first look at the single most glorious ass he's ever seen. His mouth literally drops open as he watches how it jiggles, perfect and round, and he wonders if it would be too much to fall to his knees and worship it right then and there.

Eddie's dumbstruck for a little too long, almost misses as the cycling instructor heads for the door. "How can I take your class if I don't know your name?" He shouts.

The instructor half turns, the sexiest, smuggest smile on his pretty face. "It's Steve!" He yells back.

"I'm Eddie!"

"I know!"

The door closes and he turns to Nancy. "How--how did he know my name?"

Nancy rolls her eyes, goes back to her flashcards. "You're wearing a name tag, you absolute dork."

Eddie knows he's a man of weak will. Is not completely surprised when, after a month of meanly flirtatious interactions, Steve leans across the counter to taunt, "you do one cycling class with me and I'll take you out to dinner."

He's fresh from a workout, hair still damp and messy from the shower. Eddie thinks he's about to lose his mind, desire a clawing beast gnawing on his bones.

"Oh, so I might finally get the opportunity to check out your balls?"

Steve's cheeks go very pink, and something tight and hot tugs in Eddie's abdomen. "If you play your cards right."

[slutfics]

ᥫ᭡. FATHER HEADCANONS .ᐟ

characters: obito uchiha, kakashi hakate, itachi uchiha & neji hyuga.

warnings. none. fluff, domestic life, not proofread.

writers note. how i think they’ll act as fathers, kakashi isn’t married i believe and the other ones are dead, so i just wanted to make a little something for my beloveds, especially for obito since he’s been nothing but a nuisance in my head. I love him.

OBITO UCHIHA !

he’s definitely the ‘big family’ type of guy, probably would want at least four kids, five the highest. yea, he likes having little spawns, even if he doesn’t look like it.

he doesn’t yell or spank his children, however there’s been times when he has yelled because they were acting out.

when he’s irritated, his children would know it’s time to stop, his voice deepens and becomes stern and he has a look that makes them stop whatever behavior they were doing. he could be scary, but other than that he’s a chill dad.

his ‘time-out’ methods are putting his kids in the corner or extending their chores. sometimes he’ll make them clean the front yard and bathroom.

he actually smacks his kids over the head when they don’t listen or throw his slippers at them. depending the age of his children, let’s say ten through fifteen, they’ll think it’s funny before he has them cleaning something they don’t wanna do.

his uchiha genes are stronger than yours, they’ll have his eyes and hair color and depending how many kids you have with him, only couple would have your hair color and eyes (the skin color will possibly slip in). they’re also short tempered.

he likes training his kids and is often proud of them when they finally have it down.

he keeps all of their colorings they’ve made him, he keeps them somewhere safe so they can’t get ruined or lost. (he might go bonkers if they get lost).

he’s a very overprotective dad, his children have to be home at a certain time. he will personally hunt them down if they’re not home by the time sunsets.

obito spoils his children but not to the point where they don’t understand ‘no’ he will put his foot down and doesn’t tolerate tantrums. he also doesn’t have favorites, he knows that isn’t right, especially as a parent, all of his children are treated equally.

wise words from obito to his children: “get your ass down from there right now.” “keep acting like lunatic and I’ll send you home and you won’t come out there until dinner, do you understand?”

KAKASHI HAKATE !

kakashi would only want two kids, a boy and a girl. he sees this as a perfect amount, he’s fine with children, he just doesn’t want a zoo of them, and plus he’ll probably have grandchildren in future.

he’s a very chill and patient dad, he knows how to handle his children and they listen pretty good, however.. they’re sassy and he knows they got that from him and he refuses to admit it. his kids are pretty mean, but they mean well.

he also doesn’t spank his kids, but he does make his kids clean the entire house and makes sure there isn’t a single speck of dust flying around.

kakashi knows his children’s interests and will personally try to understand it, even if some of them are a bit weird.

he’s the type to tell his children that santa won’t bring them presents because they’re misbehaving and won’t listen to him. he’ll also tell them that the boogieman will drag them out of bed by their feet and take them away. (they haven’t slept in their own room for a week).

he likes to pinch his children cheeks, he thinks it’s adorable. he also ruffles their hair, especially if his children possessed his beautiful spiky hair.

kakashi’s genes are strong, but it’s a well mixture of yours, if you have moles, freckles or whatever, your children with kakashi will have them.

there’s been times where he doesn’t know how to handle temper tantrums, the only thing that comes to mind is to send his kids to their room to have them scream it out. (they’ll fall asleep afterwards and by the time they wake up dinner is already done.)

kakashi is a good listener, he knows how to handle his kids emotions and is there for them. however there’s been times he has to be straightforward with them, he knows he can’t always sugarcoat things just because they’re his kids.

kakashi may be chill, but he does have strict rules for his children to follow. he has tied his child to a tree and will do it again if he has to.

kakashi’s wise words to his beloved children: “oh! is that so? would you like me to tell mommy what you have been doing? no, then knock it off.” “you are in big trouble when we get home, you are to clean the bathroom, do I make myself clear?”

ITACHI UCHIHA !

itachi, the gentle soul that he is. he’s also someone who will have two children, genders are irrelevant to him, he’s just happy to have a family, even if his little spawns have him stressing and worried.

he’s the type of dad that you wouldn’t want to be mad, they know it’s time to settle down when he’s upset. itachi doesn’t have to say anything but look at them, and you wouldn’t know if he’s mad, but they do, they know when he’s pissed and that has them shutting up within an instant.

itachi doesn’t lay a hand on them nor does he yell, but he does put them in time-out or send them to their room and have them think about what they have done.

itachi is a rather patient dad, and if his kids are toddlers he would know how to handle them and calm them down. he likes taking them on walks and have them cry on his shoulder as he tells them a little story or something to have them keep their mind occupied. if that doesn’t help, he’ll try putting them down for a nap.

he likes making them their foods. he’s the one who packs their lunch for school and makes them breakfast in the morning, he also makes sure that his kids have healthy meals. yes, he allows his children to eat junk food, just not all the time. he wants his kids to grow big and strong, as he likes to tell them.

he likes listening to them talk about their day at school or just have a casual conversation with them, he really likes quality time.

his children don’t get bullied in school, he’s scared them off, as much as he’s a gentle man, he’s still a scary guy and doesn’t tolerate other children bullying his own. he doesn’t like seeing them cry. however, he will speak the child’s parents in hopes to settle things.

when his kids suggested a game, he lets them win, especially if it’s hide n seek, he knows exactly where his kids are hiding and he hides in the most basic spots for them. (he just really likes hearing their squeals and giggles when they find him.

if his children are older, he would like to know where they are heading off, he doesn’t restrict them from having fun with their friends, he just doesn’t want anything bad happening to them when they are out. they have a certain time they have to be back home. will not tolerate back talk.

he does ground his children, the longest time they have been grounded was three months and no, he doesn’t forget and will make sure they learn they lesson. he loves them, but he will teach them that their actions have consequences.

itachi’s wise words to his children: “you are misbehaving, would like me to grounded you? then stop that.” “I will not be teaching you that, you have not been listening to be for the whole day.”

NEJI HYUGA !

neji is aware how difficult it will be to rise kids, so he’ll possibly have two or three kids, genders don’t matter to him, he made them and he’s going to raise them the best he can. there’s a lot of things that he doesn’t tolerate with them and that is back talk, he doesn’t like back talk, at all.

neji definitely spanks his kids, is it hard? no, not at all, but it’s enough to sting and he’s well aware how heavy his hand could be. he also has a major soft spot for them, so spanking his kids isn’t often.

his byakugan does actives when he’s pissed off with them and that could be a scary sight for them and they know they’re in deep trouble, especially when they did something they weren’t supposed to do. his children don’t purposely make him mad, it’s horrifying to them.

neji doesn’t like when his kids cry, it makes his heart pang and he tries his best to comfort them.

his the one who bandages them up when they get hurt and will lecture them as he does so. he knows how reckless children can get, especially when they are unattended. sometimes he’ll have to supervise them.

when he trains his kids, he does not overwork them, once he sees them tired and barely holding themselves up, he’ll either stop or have them rest up a bit before continuing. he makes them tea and food, or give them water then have them shower.

his children have a bedtime routine, his kids need to be well rested and will not stay up to early, he has them study occasionally so they know what they are doing.

he’s the type of parent to pinch his kids arms, that’s a warning sign for them to knock their shits off or they’re in big trouble once they return home. or sometimes he’ll simply just look at them and they’re already know they’re in trouble.

if his children were to snitch on another and they’re yelling who did and who’s denying, everyone is in trouble and they are to stand in the corner until he says they can leave and if they start acting up, he sends them to their room to take a nap or he’ll train them.

neji is a good dad and he’s a bit on the strict side when comes to them, however he doesn’t prevent them from doing things they want to do, as long as it’s not criminal or cause them serious harm. he’s also the type to tell his children to get up back and try again or tell them to walk it off.

neji’s wise words to his kids: “do you want me to give you pow-pow? then stop this nonsense.” “get in the corner and think about what you did.”

© SLUTFICS. . . please do not repost, steal, copy or publish my works on other platforms, however reblogging and ♡ are greatly appreciated.

[petermorwood]

A day or so ago, @dduane reblogged a long post - a Canadian magazine article from 1966 - about the Americanisation of Winnie the Pooh.

It's an Impressive Tirade in which the writer (Sheila H. Kieran) says what she thinks about letting Walt Disney have a free hand with a foreign Children's Classic.

There's mention of the previous Adaptation Endeavour, "Mary Poppins" (1964) but it's very brief, perhaps with an eye to limited column space - or maybe because All Was Said Already in a previous review.

There is, however, rather a lot about the English characters being given American accents, and about the inclusion of a new character, an American gopher (which, the article suggests, looked vague enough to the Kieran children - its target audience - that it might as well have been a mole or a beaver).

*****

And that reminded me of another bit of American Animalisation done by Disney, in the 1949 short "The Wind and the Willows" - though in this instance it's visual since the voices are, for the most part, suitably British.

They include Basil Rathbone as narrator, and a horse who sounds like George Formby. In some scenes the horse actually looks like Formby, so this voice may not be entirely accidental.

Badger, however, sounds like a Scotsman - the worst kind of stage Scotsman at that - rather than how I used to "hear" him as a C. Aubrey Smith-voiced crusty retired colonel.

That, however, is just personal preference.

However, Disney's Badger is not a proper British (more correctly, European) badger, Meles meles. Here's one, which though not the most amiable of beasts in reality, still manages to look fairly affable ("I say, old chap, whatever are you looking at?")

Instead he's a North American badger, Taxidea taxus, which not only has a less affable expression ("Hey, bud, you. Yeah, you. You lookin' at me? You lookin' at ME?") but, more important, different stripes.

Here's Disney's version alongside mine. The correction took about five minutes of pixel-tweaking.

Disney's animators could have got it right from the outset just as easily, because I'm pretty sure the reference library which provided costume info for Rat's tweed Norfolk jacket and britches included picture-books of natural history.

Come to that, any "The Wind in the Willows" after the unillustrated first edition would have been enough, and there must have been at least one copy lying around for story adaptation and scene-description purposes.

The first illustrated edition came out in the UK in 1931, and its artist was, at author Kenneth Graham's request, the very same E.H. Shepard who had illustrated the Pooh books just a few years previously...

...while this Arthur Rackham colour plate is from an edition published in 1940 in New York.

So those books wouldn't have been impossible for Disney to get.

The problem, however, is that if a word ("badger", for instance) is well known to mean one thing here, it may be Too Much Trouble to find out if the same word means something else there, with the result that finding out can sometimes come as rather a surprise.

Check the UK / US meaning of "suspenders" to see what I mean... ;->

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) captain price nsfw alphabet with p-links, 𝒶⸺𝓏

𝒜 = aftercare (what they’re like after sex) : john, as i've stated before, is very touchy. he likes having his hands on you in any way that he can. so he'll pull you to his chest as the two of you catch your breath and run his hands along your body, pressing kisses to the crown of your hairline. you usually end up dozing off before john does and so he takes the initiative to grab a warm, damp cloth and clean up the mess of cum between your thighs. after he's done, he'll hop right back into bed and pull you flush to his body, sliding his hands along the expanse of your thighs and counting each beauty mark and mole along your body in the dim lighting of the room until he eventually falls asleep. [connected to this post and this one as well!]

𝐵 = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) : john's favorite body part of his would have to be his hands. they're big and calloused from work and he enjoys gently grasping your hips with them when he pulls you in for a slow kiss. he also adores how much you love them as well, his hands swamping yours whenever the two of you interlock fingers with each other. now john has an obsession with your lips, for him, they convey your emotions much better than words ever could. he can tell when you're annoyed with him by the purse of your lips. can tell when you're feeling shy by the slight upturn of the corner of your mouth. can tell when you're being sassy and sarcastic with the cute smirk that'll grace your lips and also when you're feeling sad by the way your lips curl in on themselves to form a line, and perhaps that's not a body part but it's his absolute favorite.

𝒞 = cum (anything to do with cum basically... i’m a disgusting person) : john's cum is pearl white in color and it's sticky and thick and there's always so much of it when he cums for the first time. the taste of his cum is slightly salty but it's not overbearing, you love the taste of him. price prefers to cum inside of you rather than anywhere else, this only started after john saw you holding your friend's newborn baby in your arms, it's been john's mission to impregnate you since then. [connected to this post!]

𝒟 = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) : it's no secret that john is older than you, there's an obvious age gap and some people may sneer at your relationship (as you're in your mid to late twenties and john is thirty-seven.) during playful banters between you and john, your go-to "insult" is always, "old man", "yes, daddy." or something along those lines. and despite himself, price always finds that he's thick and hard in his pants. he won't ever tell you that though.

𝐸 = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) : okay, price isn't the type to sleep around, he's had some occasional flings here and there, but that's about it. that doesn't mean he's inexperienced though, john puts in work. he studies your reactions and what you like. a delicious roll of his hips has him hitting that spongey little spot inside of you. licking his thumb before planting it on your clit to rub quick figure eights, has your thighs shaking and his name falling off your tongue like a prayer, and whispering lewd things in your ear and kissing you all sloppily in his pussy drunk state? has your cunt leaking all over the place. john price knows how to fuck and make love, he's perfect.

𝐹 = favorite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) : hm, john's favorite position is called the 'g-whiz' it's a stupid name lowkey but it gives him the perfect view to watch your face as you fall apart over and over on his cock. it also gives him access to your g-spot and your clit as well. three birds with one stone (he loves watching your tits bounce too.)

𝒢 = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) : it's a mix. there are times when the two of you are going at it like bunnies and perhaps bump heads a bit too hard. or maybe one of you trips while pulling off a piece of clothing-- there's going to be obvious laughter. during softer sex, where john's thrusts are deep and rolling, slow and intimate--- his gaze is always so full of his adoration for you and it leaves you breathless at times. he kisses gently, whispering words of love to you and smiling at the tears that sting your eyes. so yeah, he's a mix.

𝐻 = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.) : john, before he met you, wasn't really sexually active, and so he didn't keep up with grooming himself, there was no need for him to. he was out in the field for weeks on end at a time and when he was off the field all he wanted to do was relax and sleep as much as he could before he had to go back out for another mission. after he met you, however, he wanted to groom himself. not that you seemed to care, nor had you ever complained. but he did it anyways. so, price's hair is brown, nicely trimmed, with no scraggly hairs in sight.

𝐼 = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) : please, john is madly in love with you and he himself knows it and he loves to make it known to you often, even outside of sex. price loves keeping eye contact with you, whether it's through a mirror, while you're riding him, or in any other position that allows the two of you to be face to face. he loves watching the small ticks in your expression as he grinds his hips into yours, cock sinking into you at the most excruciatingly slow pace he's ever gone. loves the way your cheeks flush and your cunt squeezes him when he calls you his, "pretty girl." this man also says 'i love you' often, and it's always so genuine, you never grow tired of hearing him say it. (he definitely doesn't kiss your chin when you give him an annoyed pouty look at his slow pace, he definitely doesn't apologize and speed up either.)

𝒥 = jack off (masturbation headcanon) : i find it hard to picture price masturbating, but i believe he does so when he's away from home for weeks on end, but it's not mindless masturbation like most men are prone to doing. john, when he's away from you for long periods of time, gets almost…needy?? in a way. this man misses you like no other, he misses the smell of you, your loving touches, your smile, your cooking, you pulling him to the living room floor to dance, your horrible singing when the two of you shower together and god he misses the sound of your voice. and this feeling is all so new to him and it's almost overwhelming. 

so when price has the downtime, he calls you, it's a spur-of-the-moment call and when you pick up, he can hear the thickness of sleep in your voice; he feels selfish and a bit foolish, he was acting like a horny teenager. however, after hearing the excitement in your voice and the surprise, he can only smile and ask how everything has been at home. who would've thought that the sound of your voice, all sleepy and soft would get him hard and thick within his cargos? who also would've thought that john price would unzip himself to pull out his rigid cock, tip leaking with pearlescent pre-cum and pulsing in his large hand. yes, john ends up fucking his fist to the sound of your voice, humming and grunting softly to signify that he's listening to you, thighs tensing and heart hammering in his ribcage. i mean, what you don't know won't hurt you.

𝒦 = kink (one or more of their kinks) : hear me out, roleplay, please! wait, think about it, perhaps it's not full-on roleplay but it's something of the sort, john gets a raging boner when you call him 'captain price' mockingly or 'sir'. another would have to be breeding, john wants to knock you up so bad it's almost an obsession, would love to see you swollen with his child, most definitely says something along the lines of. "good girl, wan' t'get you pregnant so bad. you'd like that, hm?" during sex. a mild voice kink? loves the sound of your voice and almost always cums instantly when you beg him to fill you up.

𝐿 = location (favorite places to do the do) : don't really see john being too much of an exhibitionist but the two of you have had sex outside at a park, while on a picnic. you had crawled into his lap and kissed him softly, pleadingly, blinking your pretty little lashes at him and i mean; who is he to say no to your greedy little cunt? however, he prefers to do it in the comfort of your shared home. ♡

𝑀 = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) : your teasing. whether it be playful or sexual it always riles price up. it's one of the many things that he loves about you, your sense of humor. and you express it well, not just through your actions or your words but also through your eyes, they're always so expressive and glittering with light mischief that he can't help but sweep you off your feet, throw you over his shoulder, and carry you into the bedroom.

𝒩 = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs) : hurting you in any way, there are some things he's a bit lenient on if you like it; like choking and light slapping but other than that, it's a no for price. man loves you too much to do anything of the sort.

𝒪 = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) : as much as john loves having his cock buried down your throat, watching as you stare up at him with tear-stained cheeks, your mouth and chin covered in spit and his cum— he enjoys eating you out. he loves the taste of you on his tongue, loves to overstimulate you, loves to control your orgasms, loves to hear you beg and roll your hips on his tongue. if john could he'd spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs, large hands gripping the fat of your hips to keep you still as your thighs quiver and your pussy pulses from being too sensitive, he would. well shit, i guess that should be one of john's kinks too then, huh?

𝒫 = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) : price is usually slow and sensual, with fervent deep strokes, tender kisses, and whispered murmurs of love. what can he say? he loves showing that he loves you in all that he does. however, on the days when he comes home after a mission gone awry or being away for a long time in general, he's gonna be fast and rough; using your body any way he pleases. on days like this, he prefers you in 'doggy style' or even the 'mating press', and immediately gives you cuddles afterward though, telling you briefly of his mission as you run your hands through his hair. ♡

𝒬 = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) : hm, john isn't one for quickies, i mean he doesn't mind a quickie, the park sex that the two of you had was a quickie after all. but i believe he much prefers proper sex, that way he can pull orgasm after orgasm from you and take his time as well. 

𝑅 = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) : john is down to try something at least once, especially if it's something that you want to try. not too long ago, you handcuffed price to the bed and edged him until he had literally begged you to let him cum, it was quite the sight and he's down to do it again. 

𝒮 = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) : give this man two good rounds, and then he's tuckered out. however he doesn't mind if you're still reeling to go, he'll pull you onto his lap and let you ride him until you're sated. or even make you ride his face, he could never deny you anything after all. 

𝒯 = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) : y'all hear me out once more....vibrating panties. rahhhh, hold on hold on. you guys use it when you're out on walks, at restaurants and sometimes even at dinners with your friends. man gets bricked up at the sight of you squeezing your thighs together, breathless and completely out of it. however, in the bedroom, price is all you need, the man is much better than any toy.

 𝒰 = unfair (how much they like to tease) : teases you often, whether it be with overstimulation, ruining your orgasms, or even having you beg him to let you cum. the man, believe it or not, likes to see your eyes water and your lips pout. loves that he can get his sassy, fiery wife all squirmy and pleading with just a few strokes of his tongue. 

𝒱 = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make) : john is not shy, he'll tell you how good you're making him feel, not with just his deep, guttural groans, but also with words. price is the king of dirty talk and he does it unknowingly, he most definitely curses when he's moaning as well, drawn out 'fucks' and at when your pussy squeezes him tight, he'll say. "shit, sweetheart y'r pussy s'made for me." calls you the lewdest names known to man, but says it so lovingly that you can't help but be turned on even more than you already are.

𝒲 = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) : has definitely had you suck him off while underneath his desk while on a computer call with laswell. poor baby, his face was pink from holding in his moans, especially after you buried him to the hilt down your throat. totally didn't get caught or anything.

𝒳= x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) : the picture speaks for itself. ♡

𝒴 = yearning (how high is their sex drive?) : you guys, price is 37, atp? he's 40, it may not be as it used to be when he was younger but! he puts in the work and most times tires you out before he tires out.

𝒵 = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward) : it takes awhile for price to succumb to sleep, no matter how tired he is. so it's usually you falling asleep first. he lays there, holding you close and running his hands along your back and then further. he'll drift off to the sound of your slow breathing and the steady rhythm of your heart.  ♡

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : the full alphabet! ahem, i enjoyed doing this

[coco-loco-nut]

Revelations

pairing: Daniel x reader

summary: Daniel casually mentions his wife after 11 YEARS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. Danny Ric comeback. 2025 season, he is back on rbr

request are open pookie masterlist part 2

—————————

Being an engineer for Red Bull was something else. You have been with them since you graduated college, and truthfully you never want to leave, the team is your family, having been with them for 11 years.

You met your husband through your job, both starting at the ripe old age of 23, and despite the potential HR violations, Christian Horner practically set the two of you up on a date after being oblivious about each other’s crushes. Thus began Red Bull’s best kept secret.

“Happy 10 years, Danny,” you kiss your husband, him watching you analyze data. Christian made him promise to never use you as a mole, and the two of you very quickly agreed. Even when he was on Renault and McLaren, work talk was kept quiet. Daniel had a great season last year and was brought back to Red Bull Racing, Christian promoted you to be his race engineer, knowing Daniel would listen to you.

“Happy 10 years, my love,” he hugs you tight. Your children are home in Australia with their grandparents for the weekend.

“Good morning, Ricciardos. Happy wedding anniversary,” Christian greets you, sitting for the pre-race meeting. Christian celebrates your wedding anniversary almost as much as you do, but he is a part of the family. He officiated your wedding at this track 10 years ago today, and he is the godfather of your eldest.

“Good morning, I printed out some data sheets so we can determine strategy. I noticed some unusual tyre degradation, while it could be from the unusually high track temperatures yesterday, it is something we should plan for today,” you start, passing out the papers. Daniel will never not be able to admire you. Sometimes he misses what people say because he stares at you, the exact reason Christian helped get you two together.

“Let’s grab some coffee then go on a track walk,” Daniel holds his hand out to you after the strategy meeting, you happily take it. After your lap around the track, you meet with the other engineers while Daniel warms up and does media. As you are watching the F2 race for valuable data, someone from PR comes over to you.

“Watch this clip,” she says and you oblige.

Daniel, you seem in better spirits than usual, care to share?

I don’t know mate, I am usually a pretty happy person.

Here I was thinking that maybe you finally had a girlfriend

Nah, I don’t think my wife would be happy about that… I wasn’t really supposed to say that. If you are watching, sorry! I’ll make it up to you, love.

Well, I hope there isn’t a couch in your future. Good luck today.

Thanks, but she’s put up with me for 11 years, I doubt there will be a couch in the future.

“Oh, he might have the couch tonight,” you laugh a little, honestly surprised it took 11 years for him to accidentally say something.

“Looking back at all the photos, he is wearing a wedding ring, how did we not see that?” You hear one of the Mercedes drivers say outside the garage.

“You saw the video?” Daniel asks as you playfully glare at him.

“I did. I have a winning strategy for you, so maybe you can move off the couch tonight. Lose and you stay there longer,” you tease. Being his race engineer helps so much because you can subtly say things and no one picks it up, and any interactions between you seem normal.

“Yes, Mrs. Ricciardo,” he smiles and goes to get changed for the race.

Last car in, good luck Daniel

I don’t need luck, I have you guiding my race

Ok, Daniel, whatever you say

The strategy works out well, and planning for the hotter heat was a smart move. Christian hasn’t told you not to race with Max, so you push Daniel for the overtake.

“Come on, honey badger,” you whisper. Daniel has had the better strategy and better pacing, all day so he easily overtakes and keeps the lead through the final five laps.

Okay Daniel, last lap, Verstappen behind, keep the pace.

Does this mean I’m off the couch?

Focus.

Sorry.

And that’s P1, P1 very good, Daniel. Red Bull 1-2. You are officially off of the couch.

LET’S GO! Thank you team! I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thanks for the brilliant strategy, and for letting me off the couch. Best wife ever.

Mhmm. Happy 10 years. Parc Ferme is clear for you, pull in so the team can celebrate.

Let’s just say that F1 TV streaming your radio broke the internet, and the drivers when they all got out of their cars and into the garages. You followed the team to wear Daniel was parking and the team pushed you to the front. Daniel celebrated there with the team, taking his helmet off and kissing you. The team wolf whistles around you.

“Go to the podium, we will celebrate with you there,” you push him in the direction of where he needs to go. Unknowingly to Daniel, Red Bull chooses you to represent them for the Constructors Trophy.

“Mate, how did you keep that a secret?” Oscar asks Daniel in the debrief room.

“It wasn’t much of a secret. Everyone in Red Bull knows most of the relationship,” Max says and Daniel nods along.

“Honestly, I don’t know how people didn’t know,” Daniel laughs. The FIA tells them to start heading out to the Podium and Daniel searches the crowd for you when he steps out, but can’t find you. He’s shocked but extremely delighted when you step out and stand beside Oscar for the Constructors trophy. The mischievous glint in his eye is a loud warning that you will be sprayed with champagne. You happily stand through the national anthems, clap when Daniel is handed the trophy, and beam with joy as you are handed the second trophy. Soon enough you are presented with champagne and the go ahead to spray it is given.

“Max!” you squeal and hide behind him as you both spray Daniel.

“Quit hiding my wife!” Daniel laughs and in a split second, your cover is gone as Max moves to spray Oscar. You and Daniel both pour the champagne in each other’s mouth.

“Ew, that’s almost as bad as if you guys were to kiss,” Max laughs. Daniel gives you a devilish smile, pulling you close to him and capturing you lips with his.

“The kids are going to be so grossed out,” you laugh and Oscar looks almost horrified.

“THE KIDS?!”

[thebibliosphere]

I think sometimes it's hard to see my progress with my health because it so often feels like I take one step forward and then a hop, skip, and a jump back in some regards.

I'll improve one thing, and something else will pop up like a constant game of whack-a-mole with Symptoms. It's hard not to feel defeated, even though I know logically that progress is progress, but sometimes, progress doesn't feel much like progress and more like dragging yourself around by the scruff of the neck. It's tiring, in a 'slowly eats away at your soul and makes you increasingly mentally unwell' sort of way.

And then I'll see someone like Magic Dentist Man, who I haven't seen for a while, and the clarity of how far I've come hits me like a ton of bricks.

I've been through a lot since he first started treating me. I almost died, for one thing. He was there for the worst of it. Watched me slowly fade away to nothing until it was almost too late. But he hasn't seen much of me during my recovery. His daughter has primarily taken over my care -- the only person, he jokes, who he trusts with my 'complexities.' When he found the infection on the lower right side of my jaw during my checkup last week, however, he declared then and there he'd be the one to treat it.

"You've been hurt too much already, kiddo," was all he said, like if it was up to him, like if I was his kid, he'd beat the shit out of everyone who came before him. Like the fact that I was so badly brutalized by the medical system that I taught myself to breathe through the pain of root canals without anesthesia was a travesty he'll never forgive.

He's like that, Magic Dentist Man. He sees someone in pain and says, "Not today, not at my hands."

If he asked me to help hide a body, I'd ask how far away and how deep he wanted the hole.

Anyway. He's seen me through some of the worst moments of my life, and today, while he was holding the curing wand over my carefully reconstructed teeth, I caught him smiling upside down at me behind his mask.

"What?" I asked, though it came out more like, 'Hwhut?'

"Nothing," he said, still smiling. "I was just thinking you look alive."

And maybe now, a few hours after the painkillers are out of my system, maybe, yeah. Maybe that's hitting a little harder than I expected. Because he knows, y'see? He knows how far I've come. Even if I sometimes forget.

[userlando]

a different light — max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader [6.9k] summary: you weren’t just friends. friends didn’t touch you the way he did (or the one where max has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with his best friend) warnings: 18+ explicit smut, idiots in love, friends to lovers a/n: idk what it is with me and writing fics at work, but here i am again. i had SO much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy reading this ♡

Max hadn’t experienced many moments where he felt true and utter bliss, especially when he was growing up. His home life made it hard, and he’d rejected any type of positive feelings for a long time until you came along. You’d been a force to be reckoned with, matching Max’s energy so well that it wasn’t hard to build a solid friendship that would last for as long as it did.

He found comfort in your soft skin, in your reassuring smile. Even in the way your voice would get all high pitched when you told a white lie. You’d been his one true pillar when his career went from karting to racing, becoming a known household name in the chaos of it all. You’d kept his feet on the ground when he needed it most, and there was no amount of money to ever repay you for everything you’d done for him, and you vice versa.

So, he found comfort in a lot of things when it came to you. But you, sitting close to him when you had so many seats and chairs to choose from? That was everything.

You had claimed the two-seater for yourselves, but it didn’t stop you from snuggling right up to your best friend’s side with his arm around you and your head comfortably resting on his pectoral. It was a common occurence, you so deeply embedded in his arms that it might as well have been a permanent shape of you on his skin. Max had grown up with you, so he'd basically memorized the smell of your shampoo that you'd used since you were fifteen, the freckles and moles on your face and how goosebumps rose on your skin at the slightest cold breeze because that's who you were.

He'd naively thought it to be normal, to be so in tune with his best friend and it wasn't until he'd entered early adulthood and actually spent time with his friends on the grid that he realized that maybe it wasn't usual.

He still remembered the day he'd brought you along for the Baku Grand Prix and you'd mentioned being childhood friends in a passing conversation, registering the sheer looks of confusion coming from his friends. It had made him flush, a little embarrassed and a little confused until Daniel had hooked an arm around his shoulders and murmured I've been going around for three months thinking she was your girlfriend, man.

Max had shoved his friend and pulled a face, the usual ‘gross, she’s like a sister’ phrase on his tongue that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. But it had stuck with him for the rest of that day, and the more he thought about it, the more Daniel was probably right in thinking so.

Max couldn't pinpoint what exactly had shifted after that day, but he knew that something had changed. He became hyper aware of your touches and lingering looks, your ability to flirt but still toe the line of it being a little too inappropriate.

Sharing hotel rooms became weird, and it dawned on Max that maybe the two of you were acting a little too much like a couple when he found himself in bed with you snoring by his side, Daniel's words still haunting him like a ghost at the corner of the king sized bed.

He’d stared at your face in the dark for an hour, the street lights doing a good job of contouring your face in the dark and he’d felt a knot in his stomach when you’d shifted in your slumber and reached for something. He hadn’t realized what you looked for until you placed your hand on his arm.

Not grabbing. Just… setting it there like you needed his comfort even in your sleep. Such a simple gesture that had shook your best friend to the core.

The Aussie made it, along with Lando, his life's mission to send looks and make comments after that race weekend in Baku.

That was eight months ago, and they clearly had no intention of stopping as you sat in the backyard of Carlos' family vacation home in Palma de Mallorca, surrounded by drivers and their partners alike. You’d been there for two days, the relaxation already blanketing your group the more you spent time in the ocean and dozed in the loungers. The nights consisted of card games, drinking games and bonfires until someone had the stupid idea to go for a dip in the sea that just so happened to be in your backyard.

You'd been dozing tonight, finding it hard to stay awake with the way Max's fingers absentmindedly drew patterns up and down your drawn up legs.

The sun had clearly done its number on you during the day, draining every bit of energy you’d had. Heat and humidity always did that to you, so it wasn’t a surprise that you’d find the comfort of your best friend’s embrace the moment everyone sat down and curl up much like a cat.

The rhythm of his chest was enough to lull you into a sense of security, watching your group of friends across the table as they played Uno with the occassional accusation and shouts that came with playing the card game.

It had been Charles' idea to play it, clearly wanting to see the world burn as he put a group of competitive people into a game of Uno. It had been great entertainment though, your lips curled into a permanent amused smile as you watched on in silence.

Lando pulled a draw four card, setting it down with a grin and Carlos cursed in Spanish, clearly annoyed as he shoved the curly haired boy. A ripple of laughter tore through the group at the display, and you figured that it wasn't long before the game would dissolve into angry arguments.

"You can't beat the master of Uno." Lando said, clearly looking to agitate the Spaniard as the black haired man picked up an additional four cards to his already stacked hand.

"You've lost the last four games, mate." Charles muttered into his glass, taking a sip of his icy margarita for good measure.

"My luck is turning, mate.” Lando flipped him off, earning laughter from Pierre and George. “Get off my back."

You watched them bicker, thoughts stuttering to a halt when Max shifted beneath you. He drew the hand that had been on your legs up, ruffling your hair gently and you glanced up at him.

"Have you fallen asleep on me yet?" He asked quietly, for your ears only and you grinned sleepily, the perfect picture of comfortable.

“Not yet.” You muttered, covering your mouth as a yawn took you by surprise and Max smiled in amusement.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” He glanced up at the boys when their voices picked up volume. “Get out before this becomes massacre.”

You laughed, nodding your head in agreement and letting him pull you up. No one really noticed as you slipped away, or if they did, they didn’t question it.

The voices of your friends faded into the background the further you got away from the house, grass and gravel transformed into cobblestones leading up to the town and further from the ocean.

“It’s so pretty here.” You mused, looking down the cobbled path, lit up by street lamps. “I’d love to live some place like this, some day.”

Max’s brows furrowed, following your gaze before looking at you questioningly.

“You basically do.” He said, humourous lilt to his voice. “Mooching off of me, living it up in Monaco.”

It would’ve made you feel self-conscious and even a little embarrassed if those words had come from anyone else but Max, but you’d been friends for so long that you knew when he was joking and when he was being serious. And in this case, it was the former. It was evident in the teasing smile and his light voice, aside from the fact that he’d always find a way to rebook your flight and beg you to stay for a few more days. As if you hadn’t been with him for a week already, as if you didn’t attend nearly every race because he claimed that he didn’t want anyone else around but you.

You were aware that it wasn’t a normal friendship, what the two of you had. And you knew that people thought it to be unbelievable that you weren’t romantically involved, some days you questioned that yourself. But that was a whole can of worms that you weren’t ready to crack open just yet. It felt too dangerous.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon.” You said, voice airy as you tossed your hair over your shoulder and skipped a step forward before turning and walking backwards in front of Max. He arched a confused brow, almost disappearing under his cap and the sight was a little too funny. “As soon as I find another man to live off of. Preferably handsome and rich.”

You were kidding, obviously, but the thought still made something sour well up in Max’s throat and he struggled to not frown in annoyance. He looked away, making it seem as if he was admiring the ocean view that he could barely see in the dark, when he was in fact trying to shield his face from your attentive eyes.

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” He said, cursing himself when his voice shook. It was so minimal though and you thankfully didn’t call him out on it. ”I mean, look at you.”

There was an awkward silence seeping into the space between you and you tried to maintain the aloof expression on your face but it was hard when your stomach was doing weird flip flops. Look at you.

“And also,” Max continued, rushing to fill the silence and break the sudden and rare awkwardness. “You’ve got me as your wingman.”

That made you laugh, and something like relief flooded Max’s stomach.

“Wingman? Right.” You turned, walking ahead of him and the boy frowned at the disbelieving tone in your voice.

“What do you mean? I’m an excellent wingman.” He jogged up to catch up with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in.

It always amused him how you stumbled into his embrace whenever he did that, always so caught off guard but never once doubting that he’d be there to keep you upright. It was his favourite thing to do, mainly because you’d grumble and peer up at him with your eyes and Max would grin like the close proximity didn’t make him want to vomit with how much he craved to press his lips to yours. Just to see what it’d be like.

“Max,” you rolled your eyes. “No one ever dares to approach me when you’re by my side. You’re like a guard dog.”

“What?” He pulled back a little to look at your face, still keeping his arm around you. “I’m not! What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You scare off every single man!” Your voice went high in amusement and something else that he couldn't put his finger on. At Max’s furrowed brows, you sucked your teeth in exasperation and continued, “Last weekend, we were out in Monaco, remember? Two guys approached me, and you just magically seemed to show up and stake your claim. You might as well have peed all over me.”

The furrow between Max’s eyebrows seemed to deepen, feeling a little lost all of a sudden because you sounded genuinely upset and he didn’t know what to do with that.

“That's disgusting. And I wasn’t staking anything.” Max grumbled when the silence stretched on. “They were idiots anyway. Who wears sunglasses inside a club? At night?"

The both of you stared at each other as you walked and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle that broke the sudden tension. Just the sound of it made Max relax a little from where he'd suddenly gone tense.

“He was kind of a loser, wasn’t he?” You agreed, because it was true. “But you still scare every guy off.”

Okay, so maybe he did. And he’d done so unintentionally until last year before his feelings for you started to enter dangerous territory. Whereas before, he’d genuinely think that the guys you dated were total idiots, now he’d find a way to glare and act standoffish until the men took that as a sign and bailed.

“Sorry.” He said, but he really wasn’t. And you clearly didn’t believe he was sincere, judging by the arched brows on your forehead. “What? I am.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because you weren’t really upset about the fact that Max managed to chase men off whenever they got close to you. It was just the fact that he ran them off and then continued to act as if his actions didn’t have any hidden motives.

There was clearly something between the two of you, and it scared you but it also made you want more. Max was just too much of a wuss to act out on it, and so were you, in a way.

You didn’t know how many hints you could dish out before it got borderline ridiculous. Max didn't need a push, he needed a shove.

The both of you took a walk around the small village before circling back home. A few had retired to bed already, and you found Daniel, Pierre and Lando lounging around by the outdoor fireplace. Lando clocked the both of you walking into the backyard, looking a little suspicious and you shot him a questioning glance.

“Welcome back, children.” The man himself greeted, earning a flick to the head by Max in passing. He yelped, making you laugh as you sat down by Pierre.

“We’re older than you, idiot.” You pointed out and Max made a hum in agreement, looking around with a small frown.

It was ridiculous how he all of a sudden felt a little lost when you didn’t immediately go for a seat that held two people. You always managed to find a seat right next to Max, even going as far as sitting in his lap when he was in a chair; neither of you pointing out the fact that there were other seats to choose from.

But now you’d sat next to Pierre, and he felt something ugly bloom in his chest when the man in question draped a friendly arm over the backrest. You were good friends with the Frenchman, and he had a girlfriend but it still made Max annoyed.

He reluctantly sat in a chair when he realised that he’d lingered for too long, trying to tune into the conversation that had gone on for the whole time he’d gotten lost in his head.

You’d noticed, of course you had, there was no one as in tune with Max Verstappen as you were. It made you feel a smidge of glee because it was just further confirmation that whatever was going on between the two of you wasn’t friends being friends.

And it only seemed to solidify when Max looked your way, a hundred emotions shining in his eyes as he glared daggers at Pierre and his harmless arm. You arched an eyebrow, silently and innocently asking him what was wrong.

You watched Max shift in his seat.

“So, where’s Kika, Pierre?” He asked, the question coming out of the blue and you almost rolled your eyes, trying not to react when Daniel and Lando’s conversation trailed off to look at the three of you.

Pierre touched your shoulder with a finger, a tap that conveyed so much and you hid a smile by biting your cheek. Leave it to Pierre to read a room and embody the innocent and clueless man perfectly in order to help you.

“She’s sleeping.” He replied easily, kindly. “Had a little too much to drink. Which reminds me…” He trailed off and turned his head to look at you. “She wanted me to remind you of your plans tomorrow.”

“What plans?” Max asked before you had a chance to reply.

“We’re just going to a boutique we came across. It looked cute,” you smiled. “It was closed when we walked by today. But they had these nice bikinis I wanted to get my hands on.”

Lando looked up at the mention of bikinis, a smarmy smile that told you exactly what he’d say before he even opened his mouth.

“Can I come?” He asked, making Daniel cackle.

You stretched your leg out to kick his shin, grinning at his cheekiness. Lando dodged your kick just barely, a smile of his own stretching his lips.

“You’re being weird.” Max said, giving the British boy a look that looked an awful lot like a warning. It didn’t deter Lando though, not like it’d make a grown man running if it were aimed at a stranger.

The curly haired boy only rolled his eyes, a playful air to him as he glanced between you and Max.

“I’m being weird, sure.” He said. “Not as weird as you two sharing a bed.”

A hot flush traveled up your spine and reached your cheeks when Pierre and Daniel laughed, like they were trying to hold it in but couldn’t. You had half a mind to reach over the table and strangle your friend who looked way too smug to have aired out the one thing everyone probably had thought at least once, but never said out loud.

You and Max shared a glance, expecting him to look embarrassed but he looked smug and you didn’t know why your stomach rolled at the sight. He looked… hot. Confidence had always looked good on Max.

“At least I have someone to share a bed with, dipshit.” He stretched out his hand to pinch Lando, making everyone laugh. “Can’t say the same for you.”

“Oh, ha!” Lando raised his voice in a fake laugh, face scrunched up adorably sarcastic. “Ha, ha, you’re so funny, Max. Maybe you should consider being a comedian instead of the insufferable driver that you are.”

“Maybe then you’d have a chance to get podium.” Max said around a laugh and it took exactly two seconds before everyone started hollering and cackling, Lando standing up to deliver half-assed punches and nips at the laughing Dutchman who tried to dodge the incoming attacks.

You watched with an amused smile as they scuffled, both red in the face from laughter and shouts. There was no way that they wouldn’t end up waking up everyone in the house, so you stood up and ushered Lando away from Max with a laugh.

“You’re both children.” You pointed your finger at Lando when he took a step back.

“Still more mature than you.” Lando said, not maturely at all and you smiled in amusement.

“That's a fucking lie, mate.” Daniel scoffed, laughter in his voice and Lando turned around to give him a piece of his mind.

You watched them dish out insults at each other that really sounded a lot like friendly love in disguise, startling a little when you suddenly felt arms circle your waist. A yelp left your lips when you were pulled into Max’s lap, twisting until you could look at him.

The closeness of his face caught you off guard, the blue in his eyes so striking with the fireplace reflecting in them. You draped both legs over his lap, making yourself comfortable with a shy smile.

“Hi.” He greeted you softly once you’d settled down.

“Hello.” Your breath stuttered a little when he brushed his fingers against your waist, skin against skin where your tank top had ridden up.

“I think that’s our cue to go to bed.” Daniel said quietly, but loud enough for you to hear and look at him.

Lando shot him a look, eyebrows raising when both Daniel and Pierre stood up.

“I’m not tired? You go —“ He halted his words when Daniel glared at him. “Right. Whatever.”

The boys stood up, bidding you goodnight and kisses to your head before disappearing inside. You watched them through the sliding doors as they shoved each other and laughed, vanishing around a corner. Max squeezed your side and you glanced at him.

“What?” You asked when you spotted the smile that so badly wanted to break out on his face, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“You were trying to make me jealous.” He said, not as a question but as a sure statement. You rolled your eyes and tried to steady your breathing when he leaned forward to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, his hot puffs of breath making goosebumps rise on your skin.

You squirmed when his beard tickled you, shoving halfheartedly on his shoulder but he didn’t budge. He pressed his lips against your pulse point and you knew that was it; he could definitely feel your racing pulse, there was no way he couldn’t.

“Well, it worked.” You replied belatedly, voice a lot weaker and shakier than you would’ve liked it to be.

Max didn’t say anything of it, though you could feel his lips move as he smiled into your throat.

“It did.” He confessed quietly, feeling your pulse jump beneath his lips. “I wanted to break Pierre’s fingers.”

He touched your shoulder where the Frenchman had previously touched you, like he was wiping off evidence of any man but himself. It made something coil tightly in your stomach, and you struggled to not squirm in your best friend’s lap.

“That would be unwise.” You whispered, glancing over at the house where there was no sign of life.

You didn’t know how you’d explain it away, if someone were to walk back out and find the two of you in this position. You, in his lap with your arm wound around his shoulder and Max under you, pressed so close in every way. It would certainly be hard to convince anyone you were just friends after this.

But you weren’t just friends. Friends didn’t touch you the way he did, with his hand stroking the skin over your collarbone, trailing a path down the cup of your tank top and feeling the swell of your breast. Your heart was thundering in your chest, eyes locked on his hand as it mapped out every inch of your skin; fingers stroking down between your tits before he opened the palm of his hand to slide it over your ribs, almost cupping your heaving chest. You almost wished that he did, every inch of your body aching to be defiled by the very same man you’d called your best friend for years.

“Breathe.” He murmured against your throat and you realised that you’d been holding your breath, a rush of air escaping your mouth as you willed yourself to relax.

“Max.” Your brows furrowed, arching your back a little and pushing your chest closer to him.

He said your name, the sound of it so beautifully intimate and hot on his tongue that it almost made you whine. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess in your head, making it hard for you to think of anything other than his hand. The very same hand that caressed your ribs, fingers spanning out until he brushed your nipple. You inhaled sharply at the twinge of pain when he went over it again, making out the shape of it through the thin material of your top and circling it teasingly just so he could hear your stuttered and laboured breaths.

“You sound so pretty for me.” He spoke against your skin, welcoming the twinge of pain when you pulled at his hair slightly.

The whispered compliment lit your body on fire, made your hand tighten in his hair so you could push his face against your neck. He seemed to get the memo, opening his mouth to latch onto the sensitive skin there and suck. The combination of suction and the sharp pain of his thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple made you moan, the loudness of the sound catching you off guard.

“Fuck!” You cursed when he rolled the bud between his fingers, enjoying the way you squirmed; like you weren’t sure whether to push into or away from him.

You glanced up at the sky, trying to focus on the light of the stars but there was no stopping the way your eyes rolled when he bit into your skin where he’d been sucking a nasty mark into it, flattening his tongue out to lave over it. Almost like he wanted to soothe the sting.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” You asked breathlessly, even though you both knew the answer to that.

“Does it feel weird?” He countered, pulling away and you blinked down at him; struck by the absolute need in his face.

It was the first time you’d seen his face since you sat down, taking in the saliva on his lip and the blown out pupils. He looked good enough to eat and you couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss him, licking into his mouth the way you'd thought of doing for the last year.

He welcomed it with gusto, pulling away for a swift second to gauge your reaction. Max must’ve liked what he saw on your face because he dove right back, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss that had you moaning from your throat.

“Been thinking about this for a long time now.” Max confessed when you both let up for air, staring at each other through hooded lids and bruised lips.

“Me too.” You said, pushing his hair back softly. “So long.”

He kissed you again, like he couldn’t help it and you let him claim your lips however he pleased before he trailed down your jawline, sucking a few more hickeys down the side of your neck for good measure. You pushed your chest out when he neared the swell of them, watching how he pulled your top down just enough to get a better look at your tits.

Max stared at them, marvelling at the sight before the need to have his mouth on them became too great. A whimper tumbled from your lips when he sucked and licked until your skin turned raw, giving the other nipple the very same treatment.

“Oh, what the fuck?” A voice exclaimed and you jumped, turning to shield yourself from whoever had decided to turn up unannounced.

Max hurried to pull up your tank top, shooting you a glance before he leaned to the side and peered around you at the same time you looked over your shoulder. George had his back turned to you, one hand on his waist and face turned toward the sky. You couldn’t see his face, but the exasperation was clear as day in his body language.

“You guys are fucking gross.” He said and you bit your lips together to stop from laughing.

“What the fuck do you want, Russell?” Max asked, clearly annoyed that you’d been interrupted and you smoothed a thumb over the crease on his forehead.

“I forgot my phone, asshole.” He replied, agitated. “Are you guys decent?”

“Yes, you drama queen.” You rolled your eyes and watched him turn around.

There was a grimace etched on his face as he walked forward, sticking his hand down between the couch cushions until he fished out his phone. George stood upright, and there was a moment of awkwardness as you all looked at each other.

“Congratulations on finally coming to your senses.” He said finally, saluting you and walking backwards. “But please don’t shag on the patio furniture, we still have a week left and I don’t think Carlos would like an ass print on the cushions.”

“Why don’t you come over here and kiss my ass?” Max flipped him off with no real heat and you laughed.

“No thanks,” he grinned as he reached the sliding doors. “I’ll leave that to your girl.”

A silence filled the air after George made his exit and you slowly turned around, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of prodding questions that would surely come in the morning. George could never keep his mouth shut, enjoying chaos where it wasn’t necessary and you’d been friends with everyone long enough to know that it only took one person for word to spread like wildfire.

“It could’ve been worse.” Max said, who’d been sitting silently and regarding the faraway look in your eyes. It never ceased to amaze you how easily he could read you.

“Don’t remind me.” You widened your eyes at him, a smile overtaking your face when you saw the sparkle of humour in his eyes. “Maybe we should…”

You trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint because the sudden embarrassment kept you from finish the sentence. What would you even say? Maybe we should go to bed so we can finish what we started?

Max seemed to pick up what you were putting down, as he always did. He gave you a nod, face soft with reassurance as he cupped your face in his hand, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face.

“Are we good?” He asked, and you took a good look at him; noting the slight worry in his eyes and you realised that while he was reassuring you, he needed a little reassurance of his own.

You placed a hand over his, giving him a gentle nod with a smile. His eyes fluttered shut when you leaned over to peck his lips, placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek for good measure.

“We’re more than good.” You gave another nod, climbing out of his lap and reaching both your hands out so he could grab them. “Take me to bed, Max.”

He made a show of groaning loudly until you laughed, hauling him up and dragging him across the lawn. You preened under his wandering hands as he crowded your space from behind, plastering his front to your back and winding his arms around you.

“Stop that.” You hissed when he buried his face in the crook of your neck, making loud and lewd noises until it tickled you.

“But you’re so soft.” He complained, sliding both hands up your sides and under your top, fingers grazing your under boob.

You squirmed but made no real effort to push him away, opening the sliding doors and walking inside with a little difficulty. The both of you got as far as the living area before Max turned you around and kissed you, rendering you useless to stop him or protest. You could feel his mouth stretch into a smirk, like he knew what he was doing and you didn’t have the heart to make any effort to scold him even as he backed you into the sofa. A loud yelp left your lips when the backs of your knees hit the sofa, accompanied by his startled shout when you both went tumbling down on the furniture with him over you.

“That wasn’t nearly as sexy as they make it out to be in the movies.” You complained, watching Max smile down at you. He adjusted the both of you until you had your legs around him, testing the waters by grinding down on you and your mouth dropped open when you felt the hardness of his cock against your crotch. “Oh, hello.”

Max exhaled, like he was relieved to finally take some pressure off by grinding against you and you angled your hips to meet his thrusts, keeping your eyes on his to watch as his face went through a hundred of different emotions. You were struggling though, the rough denim of his shorts against your cotton ones felt deliciously nice and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep quiet.

“I’d sometimes lie awake and imagine what you’d sound like.” Max murmured quietly, teeth bearing down on his lower lip when you gripped his shoulders a little harder. He ground down, listening to you whine high in your throat. “I’d fantasise what you looked like when you came.”

You dug your heels into his ass, silently telling him to keep going because a few minutes more of his incessant thrusting and he’d have you coming. Max kissed down your jawline, sucking tiny little marks into the skin that he knew you’d give him shit for when your mind had cleared, but it was the thought of your friends seeing your bruised skin that worked him up into a frenzy. He wanted, needed to show everyone that you were his. Fuck Pierre and his wandering hands, and Daniel who’d smugly smiled at him from across the paddock all those times.

He’d show them.

“You gonna make that reality, my love?” He was getting close, voice losing its edge as he spoke the words into your clavicle. He bit the thin skin there until you keened, digging your blunt nails into his shoulders. “Gonna show me what you look like when you come?”

“Yes, yes, yes…” your words were becoming jumbled, making these high noises from your chest that seized Max by the throat.

He didn’t think you were even aware of how loud you were becoming, but he’d be damned to stop you. It reminded him of the same noises you’d make when you’d take a quick dip into a cold ocean and he’d splash you just for the sake of it. You’d make this high pitched, whiny noise like the chill of the water took your breath away. It was mesmerising and so fucking hot that Max couldn’t help but grind down one last time and shoot off into his shorts, a throaty moan in your ear that sent you over the edge as well.

He forced himself to watch your face as it scrunched up, mouth hanging open as you gasped for breath, body seized up beneath him as you both ground against each other in an effort to bring you back down from your highs.

“Fuck, this is gross.” Max scrunched his nose up as he looked down between you. You peered down with a breathless giggle, noting the spot in his shorts that had seeped onto yours.

He looked up at you at the sound of your laughter, face relaxing when he saw your smiling eyes and hot cheeks. The sun had been good to you, kissing your skin so beautifully that he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from you for a second since you got here.

“I can’t believe we just humped like a couple of teens.” You said it with laughter in your voice, but Max could spot the shy tilt of your brows and there was something oddly endearing about it. "In Carlos's family home." You said the last part in a mortified whisper, like the reality of it was dawning on you.

“Should’ve done that sooner.” He joked and you laughed, slapping his shoulder.

Max dropped his weight on you as sudden exhaustion seeped into his body, and you grunted. You wound your arms around him though, ignoring the messes you’d made between you for the sake of a cuddle. Your fingers drew little patterns on his back, like you knew Max loved, and he almost purred at the feeling.

“We should probably go to bed.” You said quietly.

“Yeah.” He said, but neither of you made any effort to move.

The grandfather clock was ticking away in the corner, almost like background music, and you were almost lulled to sleep by Max’s steady breathing. Your eyes opened when he suddenly moved above you, having sensed that you were two seconds from falling asleep when your hands stopped moving on his back.

“Okay,” he sighed heavily and stood up with a grimace, wobbling a little. You smiled slowly when he offered you his hands, pulling you up. “Time for bed.”

“I’m getting déjà vu.” You referred to an hour ago when you’d declared bedtime, only to end up a few meters away on the couch instead.

Max laughed, pulling you along toward the stairs and guiding you down a narrow hallway.

The morning after went as well as you’d imagine, waking up with Max snoozing quietly on his stomach with his hands shoved underneath the pillow. You’d ghosted a kiss on his cheek before getting up to get ready for the day. Sharing a room with Max during all the years had made you stealthy enough to perform your routines without him waking up, but it could also be because he slept like a rock and not even pans and pots in the hands of Lando and Daniel could bring him out of his dead sleep.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Daniel greeted you when you stepped foot into the kitchen, pulling everyone’s eyes toward you and you smiled awkwardly.

“Hi? Hey.” You carefully avoided George’s eyes as you walked around the counter, patting Heidi on the back in a silent greeting.

The look she gave you had your hackles rising a bit, but you pushed the paranoia away because surely George hadn’t gone and blabbed already? It was only - you looked at the clock - nine in the morning. Christ.

Charlotte handed you a mug of steaming coffee and you wordlessly took it, taking a small sip. “Thank you.”

Conversation picked back up again as you went on the hunt for toast, popping them in the toaster and pouring another cup of coffee for Max who’d probably woken up by now. Francisca talked about the boutique you’d be going to, waving Pierre off with a playful hand when he tried to invite himself into your girls day.

There was a slight lull in the chaos of three conversations happening in the space of the kitchen, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that Max had finally joined the party. You turned your head and almost smiled at his hair, wet from a shower and sticking up in all directions. He looked sleepy still, a little bleary eyed but he still managed to find you in the gaggle of people.

It warmed your heart a lot more than you’d like to admit when you watched his eyes light up as they settled on you, murmuring good morning’s and patting backs as he made a beeline for you.

You smiled at him. “Morning.”

Max accepted the mug of coffee you handed him, kissing your cheek in thanks and you leaned into it automatically. It was scary how fast you’d gotten used to his affection, but it felt so natural that you couldn’t bring yourself to question it.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, hand finding the hem of your dress to pluck at it with his fingers.

It was a plain old summer dress in white, one you’d worn a couple of times but it was Max’s favourite piece. It made your legs look amazing, and he was slightly mourning the thought of having to let you go out with the girls and not being able to ogle you openly.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him.

“Is anyone gonna address the elephant in the room?” Lando spoke out, bringing the both of you out of your bubble you’d managed to create.

You turned around to look at the nosy group, rolling your eyes at your friend.

“Isn’t it clear?” Pierre balled up leftover bread from a loaf and chucked it at the Brit from across the table.

Charles frowned, glancing at you before looking over at his girlfriend who was smiling a little too brightly for your liking.

“Am I missing something?” Charles narrowed his eyes and looked at you. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“You’re not.” You said, playfully glaring at your friends. “They’re just being idiots.”

George coughed, dodging an incoming slap to the arm from Carmen. Just that one gesture let you know that Carmen was aware of what had happened last night.

“Tell that to Carlos’ furniture.” He muttered but it was enough for Carlos to look up, frown deep in his face as his round eyes looked between George, you and Max.

“What?” He asked, confusion lacing his voice. “What did you say?”

Max coughed, hiding a laugh as he turned around to pick up his mug of coffee. You shot Kika a look that screamed help me and she didn’t even hesitate to hop up from the barstool and nod at the girls.

“Everyone ready?” She asked, earning a few replies as they gathered up their things for a day in town. "Vamos."

You watched in amusement before turning to Max, not really in the mood to leave him and he seemed to share those feelings, judging by the look on his face. His eyes flickered across your face, like he was trying to memorise it and you leaned into him.

“I’ll see you later?” He asked, like it was ever a question, watching you nod. He handed you the toast you’d prepared, giving you a look. “Eat up before you go.”

You tried to act like that small gesture didn’t make your heart absolutely crumble into ashes, not having the strength to refrain yourself from standing on your toes to press a kiss to his mouth.

“What the fuck?” Came Charles’ voice from somewhere and you laughed into Max’s lips before pulling back.

Max gave your behind a small pat and you turned around to leave the kitchen, thinking that you couldn’t wait to be back home.

[dashing-disaster]

Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

 “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

[hochsleep]

Relationship with Daryl Dixon (headcanons)

This is my first experience writing headcanons, but I have a lot to say! And yes, I used a gif from Beth, but we don't support that pairing here, guys.....

Also, thanks to the author of the gif!

Pronouns: she/her (fem!reader) / (I'll do headcanons for Daryl's relationship for gender-neutral readers later on)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/fem!reader (Y/N)

Warnings: no, not this time. Everything is decent (underage readers can read)

• Daryl Dixon is far from stupid. I mean, he can certainly tell the difference between romantic interest and friendly sympathy. He has Carol, his best friend, and he knows that he feels for her the kind of platonic friendly love he usually feels for a family member. But that's not the case with you. Sure, you've most likely known Daryl for a long time (assuming you joined Rick's group at any point from Atlanta to Prison, can pick at your discretion). So since you've known each other for a while, Daryl has had time to realize that his feelings for you are far from friendly. All the tenderness and care that he feels for you hardly compares to friendship. Daryl definitely didn't feel like kissing Carol's lips every time she came into his field of vision. That's the difference.

• But realizing your feelings is only halfway there. Daryl isn't the type to make the first move and declare his love. He's a very insecure person because of his past, so it would be hard for him to believe that someone like you would want someone like him. Daryl will just watch over you from the sidelines, he will make sure you are safe and will always be there to protect you. Even if it's just a harmless fall down the stairs when you were arranging jars of canned fruit on the top shelf in the Alexandria pantry. He will notice that the stepladder beneath you is wobbling dangerously and will be there to catch you and prevent you from bruising any part of your body. He will take great care of you.

• Daryl is probably the type of man who idolizes and admires the girl he's in love with. Both her character and inner world, as well as her looks. He would spend hours just looking at your unconditionally beautiful face. Every mole, every freckle, every wrinkle in the corner of your eyes when you smile. God, he could never get enough. Every part of you is perfect. Daryl's not sure he's ever seen a more beautiful woman. I mean, he probably had a soft spot for women he personally thought were pretty in the past, but it was never more than a glance in their direction. Just trying to say that Daryl isn't a pristine and innocent man who never thought about women. Over the many years of his maybe not the most prosperous life, Daryl has definitely had his fair share of beautiful women. But it had always been respectful. Mental admiration from the sidelines. Daryl never "barked" or "bit" like Merle. Daryl is much more respectful of women.

• That's why he likes to watch from the sidelines and think about you. A lot of thinking. Daryl is indeed a man of few words, but he has more than enough to think about. And when he falls in love, you become the center. Except when Daryl has to think about survival or when he and Rick are making a plan of action to save the group. But rest assured, all of Daryl's free time is spent thinking about you. He's very observant and remembers every little thing about you so he can think about it later. Do you like to read? Daryl will listen to you talk about your favorite books and find them during one of your outings, rest assured. Do you like wildflowers? Great, a bouquet of a hundred of them will be waiting for you on the doorstep of your Alexandria home when you come home after a hard day's work. Maybe you like a certain kind of clothing? Like something knit? Daryl will either find it during the outing or ask Carol to help with it when she's not busy. He won't say who it's for, but Carol certainly knows. And after you get those little gifts, Daryl will watch you smile widely because you know who left them under your door. And Daryl will think about your smile until he falls asleep at night. But he'll only dream about you, too.

• Somehow you were the first to admit your feelings because Daryl is actually cowardly about these things. A man can take on walkers or hostile people with his bare hands (like the Saviors), but he definitely can't just go and tell someone he really likes how he feels. No, you have to push him. And hints aren't enough, you have to say it outright. And then probably prove the sincerity of your words of love for the rest of your life, because Daryl Dixon is a very insecure man. He knows in his brain that you really do love him and will be faithful to him, but those childhood traumas are really getting in the way of his life. Be prepared for that.

• Your relationship with Daryl will gain momentum gradually. I don't think Daryl really likes all these formalities and labels like "girlfriend" and "boyfriend". You're just his and he's just yours. There's no need to complicate it all, the world of the zombie apocalypse is already very complicated. But if you care about dates and formalities, surely Daryl can learn to take it seriously. Not right away, but he will. Just give him time and he'll lay the whole world at your feet. And he'll start marking your anniversary with a marker on his calendar so that he definitely won't miss this important day for you (he won't admit it, but for him too). Daryl will be learning and you'll have to be a good mentor in this relationship for the first few years. It will be worth it, trust me.

• Daryl Dixon gets attached to people easily. He's like a big loyal dog. I mean, have you seen how loyal he is to Rick and Carol? He bites at first, doesn't want to let anyone in, but eventually he gives in and lets you take his heart and soul under his protection. Take care of that. My point is that this is the same way love works in Daryl's case. I'm pretty sure Daryl doesn't believe in the concept of love at first sight and stuff, he rather believes that love only comes about through the process of a relationship. So at first he thinks you are just a pretty woman. Then a friend. Then a good friend. And yes, he may feel sympathy, affection and probably crush at this time, but not love. No, he falls in love with you gradually. It's a slow process, but in Daryl's case it will be forever. He's definitely a one-woman man. And when he allows himself to really love you and not just be a little bit in love, when his heart completely belongs to you and he finally says "I love you" with all seriousness and responsibility, rest assured that this is love. This man will show you what true love is. Safe, sincere, and endlessly committed. Just give him time. Let him love you.

• The following headcanon (though I think it's unqualified canon) about Daryl's loyalty follows from this. You may try to be jealous of him or think he'll fall in love with someone else (it all depends on your confidence), but Daryl will prove time and time again that he's only loyal to you. This man is serious about his and your feelings and your relationship. Therefore, he will not give not a single reason for jealousy. But there could be quite a few women around (and men probably too) who might like Daryl. He doesn't care, he will never look at anyone else. Why would he do that when he has you? You're perfect for him and his heart doesn't belong to him anymore. So if Daryl notices your jealousy and insecurity, he'll spend all his time trying to prove to you that you're the one for him. He's deeply committed. To Rick, to Carol, to Maggie, to Alexandria. He's eternally devoted to you.

• The relationship with Daryl will be full of complexities, let's not turn a blind eye to that. He's a complicated man with a lot of trauma behind him. The situation is more acute if you're a complicated person, too. There's a lot to put up with. Probably a lot of fighting at the beginning of the relationship, especially if we're talking about Daryl from the first seasons of the show. But if you're both willing to work on that relationship, it will work well. Again, not right away, but it will. Daryl is sure that his love for you will be enough for both of you and certainly for solving all your problems in this relationship. He will try his best for you and you will try your best for him too.

• Physical intimacy is probably going to be difficult. Daryl's not a fan of close physical contact, especially with someone he can't call his family. You know, the boy had a shitty childhood. But he feels the need to feel the warmth of your skin on his skin. So he may unknowingly touch you before your relationship even begins. It could just be a "casual" hand collision when you both reached for the same item on the shelf. Or he may lightly touch your shoulder when he needs to get your attention and say something to you. You shouldn't pressure him with this and force a hug or anything like that. He will definitely come to it on his own when he's comfortable and he sees that you're okay with it. As your relationship progresses, he will open up to new types of physical contact more quickly. Sure he'll hug you a lot, try to hold your hand in his, but it's all in private. And of course kissing. I think Daryl actually likes kissing, but he's not very good at it for lack of much experience. Teach him how to kiss well if you have enough experience yourself. He'll be a good student. Especially when it comes to lessons involving his lips on yours. I'm pretty sure Daryl will become very clingy as your relationship progresses. When you're alone together, he won't be able to feel comfortable unless his arms are around you in one way or another. He physically needs to hold you, to bump his nose into your neck and hair to smell your scent, which he loves so much. And of course kissing. Gentle kisses or passionate French kisses, he loves it all.

• Daryl definitely doesn't like the display of attachment on the publick. He considers it yours and his alone. Something private that needs to be kept out of the public eye. Well, he's also pissed off by those ambiguous looks Carol and Rick give him after you call him "baby" or "cutie" in public. But Daryl is willing to hold your hands and will even let you kiss him on the cheek in public if he's in a good mood. He'll save the rest for the two of you alone in your sweet home in Alexandria.

• As for intimacy, everything is ambiguous here. I think for Daryl it is not at all a mandatory aspect of the relationship. If you are asexual, he will have absolutely no problem with this. You are more than enough. The opportunity to see you smile, hug you and make you happy is all he needs. Sex is not necessary and Daryl can definitely live without it if you are not interested in sexual relations. But if you are not against it, then he will be happy to please you. I mean, he does it every day just by existing and loving you, but if he can please you in a sexual sense, he will be happy to do so. But again, not right away. You both will go to this gradually. Trial and error. Only when he completely opens up to you and is not ashamed of his scars, knowing that you love them completely and completely because they are a part of him. But most importantly, when you yourself tell him that you are also ready, then you can act. Daryl has some experience. Merle ordered Daryl... a prostitute for his twenty-first birthday and Daryl had to do it. I think he was the one feeling like a prostitute, not the woman. And maybe he's slept with random women from a bar a couple of times after drinking too much. But it was never anything special and not out of great desire. With you, it's different. Sex with you is his way of showing you love in a new way. Either way, he knows how it works, but you still need to guide him. Show him how you like it and help him the first few times. Daryl is a quick learner, especially if you help him. So pretty soon he'll memorize all the right places and positions to make you feel good as hell, nothing less. Daryl will make sure that you feel good first.

• Your comfort is Daryl's absolute priority. Over the years, he will learn to compromise and give in when necessary. Daryl loves you unconditionally and is ready to be on his knees in front of you, this is what you have done to him with your love and tenderness. Daryl Dixon has become soft and fluffy around you. Just for you. Merle would call him a pansy and laugh, but Daryl doesn't care. Not anymore. You're all he cares about.

• You're his safe place. His home. His heart and soul belong to you, take care of it. And then Daryl Dixon will move mountains for you, you bet he will.

~ A cute little headcanon as a bonus: I honestly think the soundtrack of the relationship with Daryl, is the song: The Goo Goo Dolls - Iris.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fluff for Feyd, reader tells him that she’s proud of him and it’s the first time someone’s said that to him genuinely 🩵

Feyd-Rautha x reader

All He Knew

Summary: Feyd deals with the emotional aftermath of protecting you from his uncle.

Notes/Warnings: mention of past abuse, mention of death, and vulnerability. It's fluffy-ish and angsty-ish, and slightly different, but I still kept in the main idea. Hopefully you still like it :)

Words: 1150

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

You knew the second your husband’s blade went through the Baron’s neck that his whole world would change. Everything inside of him would disconnect. The pieces of his inner self would scatter chaotically, and he would no longer know who to be. You knew because of the power his uncle held over him for the majority of his life. 

After Feyd killed his mother, the Baron was all he had. And how do you go from having the fullness of an overbearing presence on your shoulders—miserable as it was—to nothing? By killing the Baron, Feyd excised a part of himself, as if some creature had sauntered up to his side and taken a big bite out of his body. And now there’s a chunk missing that you fear cannot be filled, even by you. 

He cries when he thinks you’re asleep. And though you continue to feign unconsciousness as you roll over and drape your arm over his waist, it’s not always enough to stop the tears. Part of you knew it wouldn’t be, but you still hoped. You hoped that having you beside him would remind him why he did what he did. 

The Baron had ordered your execution because you were taking too long to provide an heir, and as you were dragged in front of the old man to answer for your ‘crime’, Feyd was nowhere near to protect you. The Baron was smart—he took you from the comfort of your bed in the early morning as your husband was training for another fight in the arena. The plan was simple, and Feyd wouldn’t know about your fate until it was too late. He wouldn’t be able to save you. 

But he did, somehow. Your best guess is that Feyd has a mole, or many, throughout the Harkonnen fortress to relay everyone’s movements, because Feyd was rushing into the room and thrusting his blade into squishy flesh just as the order to end your life was leaving the Baron’s lips. And in those quick seconds, your husband was changed. 

You don’t know how to bring him back to you. At least, you didn’t. You wrestled with it for days until it dawned on you that what he might need is not necessarily your touch or the reminder that he still has a wife, but instead, the words he deserves to hear. 

—

“Feyd, I’m proud of you.”

You’ve been watching him all morning, standing aside, not wanting to interrupt his process of slowly nipping away at a training dummy with his knife. There are holes of all sorts in the torso, both deep and shallow, and slashes across the inanimate face. It has lost both its legs. One arm hangs on by what would be a thin cord of skin were it human. When your words reach him from the other side of the room, he pauses mid-swing. 

“You did a hard thing,” you continue as his arm drops to his side and he straightens his stance from a fighters position. “You did a painful thing.”

His adam’s apple bobs. He sighs and stares down at the blade, the sharp point digging into his index finger as he twirls it. He has yet to look at you in the hour you’ve been here, and with the unpredictability of your husband, you don’t know what he’s going to do next. But you wait, patiently, because that is what you can do for him. 

“I wouldn’t let him take you from me,” he finally says. The blade stabs into the gut of the dummy. “He’s damaged me enough.”

That’s all he gives you. Your heart shatters for him and for the walls he’s been building between you since he killed his uncle; walls that took you ages to tear down after you married him. You’d done so well at getting him to trust and love you, and you hate to watch the bricks stacking as the minutes pass. 

“Since when are you proud when I kill?” he asks. 

And it’s a fair question. You’ve never been a fan of the death that wreaks through the halls of the Harkonnen fortress. You’ve never enjoyed his triumphs in the arena. But this is different, and so you must handle it differently, with a gentle hand and well-chosen words, despite what those words may bring.

He hasn’t often handled well certain topics that you’ve tried to bring up in the past. Risky topics, you learned. Topics that have usually left him drawing away from you until the next morning comes and he can pretend as if you never brought them up.

When you’ve asked about his parents, he gets fidgety; can’t stand still, can’t stop messing with his hands, can’t look you in the eye for more than a quarter of a second. He’s unlike the husband you know. When you’ve asked about his uncle, he’s worse. He’s more than just unlike your husband, he detaches himself from the moment completely. He becomes stiff as a board; a statue with a faraway gaze in his eyes. He offers few words. But those reactions are enough for you to assume the truth of his past without him giving you more than the little he has.

“Feyd, he was abusive,” you say, closing the distance between you. “You ended someone who had power over you for years. Of course I’m proud of you.”

“It’s not as if I did it for me; I did it to save you.”

“You did it,” you tell him. “You did it when you needed to protect us most. You didn’t let him hurt me and force you to accept his justifications for doing so. That's what matters.”

Long beats pass that grow longer with each one. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears so violently that they feel stuffed with cotton. You fear his reaction; a further pulling away from you—something you’re not sure you’ll be able to take. But then he drops the knife to the floor, turns to you, and tucks his head into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. 

His arms slowly snake around your waist and squeeze you tight, and you’re struggling to breathe properly, but you don’t care because the half-built brick wall just tumbled down. He needs you. 

His exhales shakily graze over your collarbone. A droplet forges a path down your chest, disappearing into your cleavage and leaving a chilled trail in its wake. You raise your hand to the back of his head and hold him against you, letting more droplets trickle down your body, letting your skin muffle sobs.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” you whisper.

He inhales, breathing you in, and then says, “There’s not a life where I wouldn’t have done it for you.”

“I know,” you tell him. 

“It shouldn’t hurt.”

“It’s allowed to hurt,” you say. “He’s all you knew.”

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter ten ⭐︎ Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Warnings: slight angst, jealousy, lots of jealousy (from both sides), insecurities, mentions of unrequited love, alcohol and weed consumption

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You agreed to Steve's deal, and now all that you do, is wait by the phone... for his call.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: Things are getting a little more serious now, you can expect a lot of jealousy in this chapter, and in the next two. @hellfire--cult and I came up with some gooood ideas, so enjoy hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Your body feels warm, aching in some places, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling, you welcome it, knowing what or who caused it. You smell his shampoo, his body wash on the pillow your head lies on, you smell his cologne, the one that always makes your heart flutter. 

When you slowly open your eyes, you’re not surprised to find him facing away from you, you're met by his sun kissed back. 

You blink, still waking up. 

You eye the moles on his skin, the scars on his back from where the bats had dragged him away. You wish to touch them, to trace them with your fingertips, to kiss his skin and bless him with better memories, but you can’t. And it’s not like memories of you and your touches would bless him, in any way. 

The thing between you, his feelings, his actions are purely driven by lust, nothing more, nothing less. You won’t raise your hopes up, this is bad enough as it is. 

What would your teen self think if she saw you now? 

What would she say to you if she saw you lying in Steve Harrington’s bed? 

The version of you now, is happy, content with what she has, even if she doesn’t actually have him. 

But what matters now? Nothing. Just him, just you and him. That’s all that matters now, that’s all that will matter, for now. 

Your mind wants to take you back to all those dark places you have been in, to all the feelings you have experienced since Steve had taken a hold of your heart. – Jealousy, rejection, heartache and pain.

And his words from the night before come back to haunt you. 

“I see whoever I want and you do… the same.”

You can’t lie to yourself, it did sting a little, it did make your stomach churn, it did make you feel sick to think of him with someone else after being with you, while being with you. 

It also hurt to wake up without him, it hurt all day to think that all he did was use you, that he took what he wanted and left. – You never expected the explanation he gave you last night, you also didn’t expect the softness of his hands, the gentle touches and kisses as he told you what really happened. Your chest still aches with guilt for treating him the way you did last night, but you were driven by sadness and you can’t help but feel that he did deserve it… a little. 

With a sigh, you turn away from him, pushing the shared blanket off your body, you place your feet on the ground and take a look around his room. 

You grip the sheets beneath you, looking at all the items in his room before you look over your shoulder, back at him, back at the pillow you just slept on. 

How many girls have occupied this space before? 

How many girls has he touched the way he touched you? 

How many girls have been kissed by him the same way you’ve been?

You had never kissed anyone the way you kissed him. 

You also never touched anyone the same way you touched him. 

He is so special to you, but you aren’t to him.

And you never will be. 

You grow annoyed with yourself, shouldn’t you be happy? Shouldn’t you be in complete and utter bliss, knowing that he wants you enough to do this? 

You close your eyes, and you take a deep breath before you push yourself off the bed. 

You shut out your negative thoughts, letting your curiosity in. You tiptoe across his room and stop in front of his bookshelf – that’s filled with more comics and movies than books. A polaroid camera sitting on the shelf, next to a fake plant. Of course, he got himself a fake plant. 

The dresser next to the window is decorated with a big lamp and a few pictures that spark your interest. You sneak a glance at him to find him still sound asleep. 

You’re not surprised to find pictures of your friends on his dresser, of the teens, of Eddie and Robin, of the whole group. None of you, not even on the group pictures that Jonathan keeps taking whenever you all hang out – that might be your own fault though, you never felt comfortable enough to join the group pictures, you still don’t consider yourself a part of it, even now. 

But you can’t help but wonder, would he have cut out the parts of you if you had been on those pictures? 

You close your eyes again, taking a deep breath as you’re willing yourself to calm down, to stop overthinking, to stop being so negative when what you got is now finally in reach. 

You get to be with him, you get to touch him, you get to feel his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, him. And even when there isn’t any intimacy, even when there aren’t any feelings on his side, you can just pretend, for those little moments, you can pretend. 

You open your eyes again, and look around for your clothes that Steve took from your hands last night after you changed into one of his shirts. You find them neatly folded on the chair by his desk, your denim jacket thrown over the back. 

It’s time to go home, even when you’d like to stay longer. 

You make your way over to your clothes, you stand with your back to him as you take his shirt off, standing in his room in nothing but your panties for a moment. You fold his shirt and place it on his desk, already missing the smell of it and the way it felt to wear something of his. 

You don’t even feel his eyes on you as you start putting your clothes on, starting with your bra before you reach for your skirt, you bend down as you put it on, zipping it shut on the side. 

Steve is now lying on his back, his right arm behind his head as he watches you, feeling a little disappointed that you are getting dressed and ready to go home. 

He watches, and stares at you for as long as he can before you notice him. 

He takes in every little scar on your soft skin, the way your hair falls down your shoulders, the way your skin is glowing beneath the stream of light that shines through the curtains. 

The moment your top is on and you bend down to put your shoes on, Steve clears his throat. 

“Leaving so soon?” Steve’s groggy voice sounds through the silent room. 

You freeze at the sound of his voice, the rough noise causing shivers to run down your spine. 

Who would’ve thought that you’d ever get to hear Steve Harrington’s morning voice?

You close your eyes as you knit your eyebrows together. You shouldn’t have waited so long to leave. Taking a deep breath, you open your eyes again, and straighten your back as you finish tying the laces of your converse. You plaster a smile on your face before you turn around to face him. 

“Figured our little deal doesn’t include coffee and breakfast,” you joke, reaching for your jacket. 

Steve’s eyes move up and down your body, before they settle on your neck where the marks on your skin are perfectly visible to him. You hate the way your heart flutters at such a small action of his. 

“Says who?” 

You try not to stare at him, but it’s hard not to when he looks this good. A tired look in his features, hair all messy, hairy chest on full display. You dig your nails into your denim jacket as your eyes move to his neck, the scar around it always dragging you into a trance like state, as you catch yourself daydreaming about peppering his skin with kisses.

“I dunno,” you shrug, tearing your eyes away from his body and meeting his eyes instead, “I think that’s girlfriend privilege.” 

He cracks a smile at your words, eyes flashing with amusement, “didn’t know Eddie was my girlfriend.” 

A laugh falls from your lips as you roll your eyes and shake your head. 

Eddie stayed over at his place countless of times, ever since those two have gotten closer, ‘sleepovers’ have become a regular thing, especially after a long night of smoking weed and drinking beers in Steve’s backyard. Usually, Eddie just passes out on the couch though, and Steve ends up throwing a random blanket over him. 

Just like at your house, Eddie raids Steve’s fridge and snack drawers, all the damn time.

“Well, your girlfriend might be upset if he finds out that you fucked his best friend, last night,” you joke only to grow flustered a few seconds after those words leave your lips. 

But, Steve smirks at you, smugness flickering in his eyes. 

“Huh,” he pushes himself up on his elbows, running his fingers through his hair, “guess it’s gonna be our dirty little secret then,” he winks. 

Dirty little secret. 

Yeah, that’s all it will ever be. 

That’s all you will ever be. 

A dirty little secret. 

You gulp, swallowing down the hurt as you nod at his words. 

“Yeah…” You scratch the back of your neck before you point to his door, “I’m uh… I’m gonna go.” 

His smile falls a little, eyes growing serious as he sits up, the blanket now only covering his lower half. 

“I can drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s nice out, I’m just gonna take a walk, maybe stop by the coffee shop or something.” 

He nods, still eying you, “a-and are you feeling okay?” 

You raise your brows at him, “hmm?”

“I-I mean,” he stutters, awkwardly looking around the room before his eyes meet yours again, “it’s just… the information leaflet said that it can cause some side effects, the Plan B thing… I mean. Nausea, dizziness, upset stomach,” he starts listing the things, counting them down with his fingers as his cheeks flush red. 

Your eyes soften, heart fluttering at his concern. You’re even a little taken aback by how much he cares but then again, it might just be the guilt he feels, knowing that he’s partly at fault for this in the first place.

“N-No, I’m okay,” you assure him, watching the way the tension in his shoulders disappears. “I’m feeling fine so far.” 

He nods, “okay, good.” 

“Yeah, so… I uh…” You trail off, lifting your hand to point at the door again, watching him nod again. You turn on your heel and walk away, not knowing when you will see him again. 

You settled on this thing between you, you set up the rules, but what you didn’t talk about was how this whole thing will actually play out. 

Just as you open the door, his voice makes you halt in your tracks, you turn your head to look back at him, giving him a questioning look. 

“Hey Blondie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Are we gonna… hang out later?” 

Hang out. 

You almost want to giggle. 

You tap your nails against the door, eying the smug, yet flustered look on his face as he looks at you expectedly. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “You can call me.”

He tilts his head to the side, licking his lips, “mhm, or you can call me,” he smirks, almost mockingly. 

“Sure.” 

Neither of you called. 

In fact, there is nothing but radio silence between the two of you, the moment you leave his house.

And, it frustrates you to no end, because all you want to do is to see him, to feel him again, but all you get is absolutely nothing. And, it only makes you more insecure, it only fills you with more self doubt. 

If he wanted you, he would’ve called. 

Right? 

You thought he’d call by Monday night, he didn’t. 

You spent all Tuesday, waiting for the phone to ring, but it never did. 

You could’ve called too, he even told you to, but for some reason, you thought that it was just another way to tease you, you heard the mocking tone in his voice, you saw the smirk he looked at you with. 

And yet, you picked up the phone a few times with the intention to just call him and ask him to come over but you slammed the receiver back into place every single time. It didn’t feel right to make the first move, every time you tried to, rejection followed. And even though he was the one who offered you the deal, you still couldn’t bring yourself to make a first move, no matter what had already happened between you both. 

It’s only Wednesday now, it’s only been two days since you had last seen him, and yet it feels like you haven’t seen him in weeks. 

It makes you frustrated and sad at the same time, but unlike yesterday, you can’t mop around in your bedroom all day, waiting by the phone like some lovesick teenager. 

And you can’t show your sadness either, you can’t let your best friend know what kind of war you’re fighting in your head. 

Steve is your secret and you are his. 

His dirty little secret. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Eddie asks as he’s scarving down the burgers and fries he brought from the diner, his new friend works at. He’s been spending a lot of time there, lately. 

You push around the fries on your plate, the cheeseburger only halfway eaten. 

“I’m just a slow eater,” you shrug, dipping a fry into the ketchup before you take a bite. 

Eddie’s brown eyes flash with amusement, “mhm, except for when you’re high.” 

“That’s another version of me, Eds.” 

“Uh huh,” he chuckles, taking another bite of his burger, the bite being large enough to make half of it disappear. 

You chuckle, flipping your hair over your shoulder, you place your elbow on the kitchen table, continuing to eat your fries. You look out the window, eying the gray clouds in the sky and the wind in the trees, a storm is nearing and it’s making your stomach churn and your skin crawl. 

You have always hated storms, the heavy wind that howls through the night, the strong rain that hits the windows harshly, thunder that makes you flinch after every crash and the lightning has always made you feel uneasy. 

You hated being left alone in this house during thunderstorms, but your parents were gone, and your sister was rarely ever around at nights, so you had to find ways to calm yourself down, usually you did it by putting on headphones and turning the volume up high enough to drown out the noises of the storm outside, it helped. Music always helped. 

But the night in the Upside Down changed everything, which is ironic, you always thought that an extreme situation would have killed your fear, but it didn’t, it only worsened it, and now not even music helps anymore. 

“Are you gonna stay for a while?” 

Eddie raises his brows as he reaches for his drink, eying your face. 

You know he can read you, you know that he can see right through you. He is one of the only ones who can – and it scares you. Not because you don’t want him to know about your fears or your struggles, there is really nothing that you hide from him at this point… Nothing but that one thing, that one thing that no one can know about, not even Eddie. 

“Yeah, I thought we could watch a movie, I brought some,” he points in the direction of the hallway, where he left some tapes on the counter. 

You nearly sigh out loud, feeling relieved. 

You wouldn’t want to be alone right now. 

Thunder crashes in the distance, not loud enough to make you flinch, but enough to fill you with dread. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile before you look out the window again, continuing to watch the clouds move, missing the way his eyes widen and the way he nearly chokes on his soda as he stares at your neck, at the marks you forgot to cover up before he came over. 

“What the hell!” 

The volume of his voice makes you flinch harder than the loud thunder that just crashed before the yell escaped his lips. You look back at him, bewildered, only to find him staring at your neck, already jumping from his seat and rounding the table to get to you. 

You’re confused for a moment, staring at him with a frown, but when he stops in front of you, and he lifts your hair up to take a closer look at your neck, at the hickeys Steve had left, you nearly gasp yourself. 

How could you have been so stupid? 

How could you forget to cover them up?

Eddie stares at them for a moment, for a really long moment, before his confused eyes meet yours, “who gave these to you!?” 

You can’t give him the truth, Steve would certainly break things off with you if you did – if he hasn’t already. 

Blood rushes to your cheek the longer your best friend stares at you, waiting for an explanation. 

“I uh… I had a uh… booty call?” 

This would normally be the moment, where he’d laugh in your face, knowing that this is a lie. But he is too surprised to look deeper into your eyes. 

“This is the first time I know you actually had sex, and you didn’t plan to tell me!?” He lets go of your hair, stepping back and throwing his arms up. 

“It’s nothing special!” You lie, your eyes following him as he returns back to his seat, “h-he was just, he’s a guy that’s here because of a friend! I met him once at one of my sister's college parties…” 

He is still in shock, his eyes are still glued to your neck. 

“What’s his name?”

You swallow, placing your hands into your lap, you dig your nails into your palms, taking deep breaths as you try to appear calm. 

“Why do you care, you don’t know him.”

“Exactly,” he smirks, crossing his arms over his chest, “so what’s the issue in telling me?”

He is now looking at your flustered face, and you are glad that he can’t actually read your mind, or else you’d be screwed as you’re trying to figure out a name to give him. 

“...Chandler…”

His eyes grow wide, smirk falling a bit. He uncrosses his arms, reaching for his drink again as he sighs, “now I understand why you didn’t want to tell me his name.”

You clear your throat, the tension in your body dissolving a little. 

“Uh huh…”

“So how was it?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

It was… perfect. 

Yeah, your nights with Steve were the best moments of your life. He made you feel things you have never felt before. He made you feel alive yet like you existed in some other world, a better place. 

As you look into your best friend's eyes, you realize that now is the perfect opportunity to let it all out, to tell him things that you’ve been wanting to get off your shoulders, because maybe then, this will get easier for you. Maybe. 

So you open your mouth and you start talking, without mentioning Steve’s name or anything else that could give you and him away. 

You talk and you talk, and you get carried away, and yet, nothing eases the ache in your stomach or the one in your chest. 

Just nothing. 

If anything, talking about it makes it all only worse because it somehow strengthens every memory of him.

And, your memories are a blessing and a curse at the same time, they take you back to his kisses, to his lips that sucked marks on your skin, they remind you of how it felt to feel him inside of you, to hear him moaning your name, to feel him holding you close, to know that he felt good because of you. 

But then, they also take you back to an unpleasant memory, and you can’t even stop yourself from thinking about it, not even as you sit before Eddie, not even as you both make your way into the living room to watch the movies he picked out, and surprisingly, not even the storm can stop the thoughts in your head.

“I see whoever I want and you do… the same.” 

His words keep echoing in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder, is he already seeing someone else? 

Is he touching someone else? 

Is he kissing someone else? 

Is he feeling good because of someone else? 

Is he moaning someone else’s name as he had long forgotten about you? 

Is that the reason why he never called? 

He wouldn’t, would he? It’s only been two days. 

He wouldn’t sleep with someone else… not so soon, at least, right?

Days and sleepless nights haunt you, just like the questions that keep piling up inside your troubled mind, it makes you feel restless. 

There is nothing but Steve on your mind and it’s nothing new, but it feels different now after what had happened between you and him. 

You long for him, your body yearns for him but you stay away, because maybe this is what he wants, days have passed and he didn’t call or come to see you, surely it must be what he wants, maybe he changed his mind about the deal, about you. 

You’re proven wrong when you find yourself at Eddie’s pool ‘party’ on Friday afternoon, five days after you had walked out of Steve’s house. 

The sun is shining, not a single cloud in sight, not a single trace of the storm that had crashed over the town only two days back. 

The heat is beating down on your skin, but it’s a pleasant feeling as you lie on one of the pool loungers between Nancy and Max. Your sunglasses perched on your nose, hair falling down your shoulders as you keep adjusting it every few seconds or so, hoping that no one else will see the marks Steve left behind, you had done your best to cover them with makeup but that didn’t stick to your skin long enough, one jump into the pool and the layer was gone. 

His eyes are glued on you and your pink bikini, and you can’t help but feel smug, despite all the insecurities that have lingered all week. You keep biting back your smirk whenever you catch him staring, and you watch how his cheeks flush red and he grows flustered before he hides it with his own smirk and a cocky look on his face. 

You’ve greeted each other the way you always do, with suggestive smiles and cryptic words that only you two understand the meaning behind. 

You haven’t talked much since he came though, but you keep brushing past each other, eying one another with that one look in your eyes when your hands reach out to touch each other, even if only for a short second. 

Now you keep glancing at him, waiting for him to finally take his stupid white shirt off, but he seems content, standing in the shadows with a beer in his hand as he chats with Eddie.

“I missed this,” Nancy says, “tanning and not worrying about a single thing.”

You tear your eyes away from Steve and turn to look at her. Nancy is wearing a blue swimsuit, her curls in a messy bun, white framed sunglasses protecting her eyes from the scorching sun. You can’t help but stare at her, eying the girl that you once were so jealous of. 

Nancy is beautiful, effortlessly so. She’s got those pretty doe eyes and the luscious curls that frame her face so perfectly. She’s a pretty sight to look at – you’re surprised to see that Steve’s eyes aren’t glued on her. 

But her beauty was never the reason for your jealousy. 

“Yeah, me too,” you murmur as you reach for the cocktail Eddie had made for you. 

“I don’t know how you can enjoy it,” Max mumbles beside you, and you can’t help but chuckle, you’ve been waiting for her to start complaining. “I’m gonna look like a tomato if I keep sitting out here.” 

You push your sunglasses up into your hair, watching as she gets up from the lounger. 

You chuckle at her. 

“I’m jumping into the water, I’m sick of the sun.” 

She storms off, flipping her red hair over her shoulder before she jumps into the pool, joining Lucas, Mike and Will. 

You sip on your cocktail, eyes moving back to Steve, just in time to see him finally taking his shirt off. He throws it over one of the chairs by the table, and lifts his hand up to run it through his hair, flexing his bicep as he turns his body to you as he steps into the sun. 

You dig your teeth into the straw as you let your eyes roam his body. The hair on his chest, the scars on his sides, the scar around his neck, all looking so beautiful under the light. You see the smirk on his lips when he catches you ogling him, and you don’t even bother to hide it, to look away and play it cool. 

But your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull and you almost choke on the sip you just took when Eddie’s eyes grow comically wide as he takes a look at Steve’s back. Your best friend’s jaw drops before a gasp falls from his lips. 

You don’t need to think twice about what’s gotten him this shocked, you left marks on Steve, just like he left some on you – but yours are more aggressive. 

While it’s only hickeys on your skin, it’s scratch marks on his. 

Your heart jumps a little when you realize that Eddie could easily put two and two together and figure out that you didn’t sleep with Chandler or that Steve didn’t fuck Heidi – that they weren’t the ones who left marks on yours and his skin.

But before Eddie can even ask him any questions, he’s suddenly hit with a forceful stream of water coming from Dustin’s water gun. A different kind of gasp tears from his lips, and his face flashes with confusion before a deadpan expression takes over as he looks down at himself, water now dripping from his face, hair and his shoulders. 

He looks around, searching for the culprit when he finds Dustin, hiding behind one of the bushes. 

“You little shit!” He yells as he puts his beer on the table, he grabs one of the water guns, filling it up with water before he runs towards Dustin, who instantly jumps away from the bushes and runs into the opposite direction. 

Steve shakes his head at them, watching them run around in the backyard, almost running into El, Robin and Vickie, who are in the middle of a little photo shoot with poor Jonathan – who hates being out in the sun, especially for this long. 

You are still playing with your straw as you eye the male who stole your heart and your mind. 

“Can I ask you something?” Nancy asks as she sits up, reaching for her own cocktail before she turns to face you, forcing you to look away from her ex boyfriend. 

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” 

With a small smile on her face, she tilts her head to the side as she looks at you. You notice how red her cheeks have gotten, but you don’t know whether it’s because of the sun or the question she is about to ask. 

She looks down, eyeing your necklace and the pink bikini top that she complimented before. 

You stare at her curiously. 

You and Nancy aren’t the closest, you get along, you talk whenever you see each other, there is never any awkwardness between the two of you, but still, you aren’t the closest. 

“I know we haven’t talked much, but um… I was wondering– cause… I love Robin, seriously but– okay um…” she stutters, closing her eyes for a moment as she shakes her head before she opens her eyes again and looks back up, “I was gonna ask if you would like to go shopping with me?” 

You're stunned. 

With widened eyes, you stare at her, taking in the sight of her nervous face, cheeks growing redder when she’s met by your silence. 

“Why me?” 

“Like I said… I love Robin but her style… she always complains it's too girly when I show her something I want to buy,” she rolls her eyes as a smile tugs at her lips, “and you… you always look good, I love your skirts and dresses.”

Your eyes soften, blood rushes to your cheeks at her compliment. 

You and Nancy have something in common, it was the reason why you started talking in the first place, after she find out who Chrissy was to you, she approached you, she offered you her condolences – she had a deep understanding in what it’s like to lose a close friend, she lost hers too. 

You both lost that one girl friend. 

“Thanks, Nancy. I’d love to go shopping with you.”

You watch the way her eyes light up, and you can’t help but feel surprised that someone like her feels excitement because of someone like you. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you say as a smile appears on your face. 

“Cool,” she smiles at you, unable to hide the giddiness in her voice. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt you ladies, but would you like me to take a picture of you, before I drop the camera and never pick it up again today?” Jonathan asks as he stops in front of the two of you, with cheeks glowing red, thanks to the sun, and an exhausted look on his face, thanks to the three girls that forced him to be their photographer for the past hour or so. 

Nancy giggles at her boyfriend. 

“Sure, let's take a pic!” 

First she wants to go shopping with you, and now she wants to take pictures with you. You can’t lie to yourself and act like it doesn’t touch your heart a little. 

You hide your eyes behind the sunglasses again, not wanting to give away just how surprised you are by all of this. 

You lean closer to her, holding your drink up a little as you smile into the camera – not feeling his eyes on you. 

Steve is unaware of the smile that tugs at his lips as he watches you pose and smile next to Nancy, a giggle falling from your lips when Nancy whispers something to you. You lean even closer, wrapping your arm around the other girl as you grin into the camera. 

Something bubbles in Steve’s chest, a feeling he can’t make out, but suddenly, he wishes that he was the one next to you, that he could be the one taking a picture with you. 

He could. He could be the one, if he asked for it. 

But how would that make him look? 

What would you think of that? 

You would certainly laugh at that and tease him, right? 

He sighs and looks away from you when you’re done taking pictures, only to find Lucas staring at him, a smug look on his face as he wiggles his brows at him. 

Steve clenches his jaw, rolling his eyes at the boy, he lifts his hand, pointing at him, “don’t even.” 

Lucas smirks, swimming closer to the edge of the pool, “I didn’t even say anything.” 

“Uh huh.” 

Steve doesn’t even hear the footsteps behind him, focused on the boy in front of him. 

“It’s so cute how you keep checking out your girlfriend,” Lucas giggles. 

Steve runs his hand down his face, groaning, “she’s not my… listen you little shit–”

“God,” Dustin appears next to him, no water gun in his hand any longer, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath after running around the backyard. 

Steve turns his head to look at him, but Dustin’s eyes are glued on Nancy, thinking that she was the one he was checking out. 

 He’s got it all wrong, so so wrong. 

“Gotta let her go, man. I don’t know how many times–” 

Steve rolls his eyes, he takes a step back and places his hands on Dustin’s back, shoving him into the pool. 

He shrieks loudly before he goes down, the water splashes around him, tearing laughs out of Steve, Lucas and Max when the teen resurfaces, gasping and glaring at him. He grabs his cap that is now floating around in the water. 

“My cap! You got it wet!” He shrieks again. 

Max laughs at him, “you’re so dramatic, nerd.” 

Steve is laughing, enjoying the shocked expression on Dustin’s face, when he feels a soft hand on his shoulder. 

“Hi Stevie,” you purr into his ear. 

Shivers run down his spine, an exciting feeling bubbling in his stomach as he turns around to face you, a smirk already tugging at his lips when his eyes meet yours. 

You look at him innocently, tilting your head to the side as you flash him a smile. 

“Hi blondi–”

You mimic his action, and push him into the water the way he did to Dustin. 

“Hah!” Dustin laughs in triumph, pointing at Steve with a smug look on his face before he looks at you, “thank you, you’re much cooler!” 

“Told you she is,” Max shrugs at him, making you laugh. 

Mike and Will laugh at your action. 

Steve flips his hair, turning to face you with a groan that quickly turns into a wince as he holds his hand in front of his left eye, scrunching his nose up in pain. 

Your smile quickly falls and you take a step closer as he starts swimming back to the edge. 

“Shit!” He curses, still holding his hand up, “chlorine got way into my fucking eye!”

You bend down as he swims closer, concern flashes in your eyes, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the smug basketball player next to Dustin, or Will who always watches closely when you’re around Steve.

“Fuck, Lego head…” you murmur as you reach your hand out to cup his cheek, “let me see–”

Suddenly, Steve lunges forward, using the hand that just hid his eye to grab yours, he opens both eyes and greets you with a smirk before he pulls you into the water. 

Of course you fell for it. 

You shut your eyes and hold your breath before your body hits the cold. The water envelopes your whole body, shocking it a little after spending the past few hours lying under the sun. 

You swim back up, only to be met by a laughing Steve who stares at you smugly. 

The teens are laughing behind you. 

“Ha ha…” You splash some water at the male in front of you, making him laugh even harder. 

“Come on, Blondie,” Steve chuckles, biting his lip as he swims closer to you, “that was fair.” 

You swim back, putting some distance between you both while he tries to close it, playing a dangerous game out here, in front of everyone to see. 

Your stomach flutters when his eyes roam the parts that aren’t hidden beneath the water. A lust filled look flashing in his hazel eyes as he continues staring at you like some hungry animal. 

God, you can’t do this, not here, not now. 

You turn away from Steve, stretching your arms out beneath the water, and trying to swim away from him, away from the teens who aren’t even looking between the two of you anymore, more focused on Argyle who’s yelling at them to come out of the water to play soccer.

You swim to the other side of the pool and Steve follows, he’s not even bothered by all the eyes that could follow, though he still looks around to make sure that no one’s watching. 

You enjoy the coldness of the water, desperately needing it after being under the weight of his eyes. Not even the sun could fill you with such warmth that his looks fill you with. 

You stop swimming when you feel the ground beneath you again. Sighing as you reach your hands out to hold onto the edges when you suddenly feel his hand on your butt. 

You gasp in surprise, blood rushing to your face as your eyes widen. 

He presses his chest against your back, chuckling at the gasp that fell from your lips. He squeezes your ass roughly. 

“Steve!” You nearly shriek, looking around in panic. 

Nancy and Jonathan are now sitting in the shadows, sitting close to each other as they talk. 

The teens are now playing soccer with Argyle. 

Robin and Vickie now cozied up on the pool loungers as they listen to Eddie, who’s telling them a story, dramatically as it seems, he keeps throwing his arms up. 

“Relax,” He whispers into your ear, letting his fingers dig into your skin one more time before he hooks his finger around the string on your bottoms, fingers tracing the bow that you tied before he snaps the material back against your skin, “no one’s watching,” he says so confidently, though he missed one pair of eyes when he looked around at your friends. 

He swims around you so he can see your flustered face, he smirks at you as he leans his back against the wall, eying you up and down. 

You blink, trying to hide the shock in your features, your heart still racing at his action. 

“Why didn’t you call?” You blurt out.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, eyes lighting up at your question, his smirk widens as he reaches for your hand under water, trying to pull you closer after looking over your shoulder, but you don’t budge, despite the fluttering in your heart, you don’t budge. 

“Why didn’t you?” He retorts. 

Because every time you wanted to, reminders of your past would come to haunt you. 

You clench your jaw, and look down, instead of answering the question he threw right back at you, without giving you the explanation that you wanted. 

If he wants to keep playing games, then so be it.  

You push his hand away from yours, despite longing for more. You take a step forward, and lift your head, plastering a confident look on your face as you reach your hand out to hook your finger around the elastic band on his swim trunks, making him gulp. 

“I was satisfied,” you shrug, lying right through your teeth.

He chuckles, licking his lips as he looks around, trying not to react to your touch, to your nails grazing his skin. 

“Right, Blondie.” 

You tilt your head at him, “what, you think you’re so irresistible, Lego head?” You ask, as you bring your hand back to your side and put some distance between you both again. 

He shakes his head at you, smiling in amusement, “oh, you wanna continue this little back and forth then, huh?” He points between you both. 

His spitcurl falls in front of his eyes, drops of water roll down his cheeks, and it takes everything in you not to follow those drops and watch as they fall down to his chest. 

You don’t, but if it will keep him interested, then you are willing to do anything. 

So you say, yes. 

You keep playing the game, you keep teasing him, all day. 

Whether you give him suggestive looks or tease him with the way you suck on the straw as you drink one cocktail after another, you bend down in front of him and touch him whenever no one is looking. 

You play with him, just like you did before. 

And it drives him crazy, you know it, you can see it – the fire behind his eyes only growing stronger and brighter, it’s what spurs you on.

When the teens are gone, Argyle and Eddie finally roll up some joints, Steve lights up the fire in the pit and Jonathan gets some more drinks from the fridge. 

You all sit beneath the starry sky, the fire now lighting up the space around you, as music and laughter sounds through Eddie’s backyard.

You sit between Robin and Eddie, sipping on your fourth drink, your mind now hazy enough for you to let loose completely, giggling at anything your best friend whispers into your ear. You don’t even notice the sour looks you’re getting from the one who is sitting across from you. 

Argyle and Robin are in some deep discussion about sex and relationships, the girl keeps scoffing at anything that leaves his lips. 

Nancy and Jonathan watch the little banter unfold with amused looks on their faces. 

“I’m just saying, I’m not even speaking out of experience, dude,” Argyle slurs, holding his hands up in surrender, “I think you can’t have sex with just one person and be happy with it – how can you even know what’s good when you’ve only been with one person!?” 

Robin’s eyes roll far back as a frustrated groan escapes her. 

“That is such a man thing to say!” She mumbles, tugging at her hair. 

“It really is,” Vickie nods. 

“You know, I actually kind of agree,” Nancy shrugs, taking a sip of her beer. 

“With who?” Robin asks, tilting her head at the girl. 

While everyone looks at Nancy, waiting for the answer, you look at Steve, watching him watch her. 

“With Argyle.” 

Steve’s eyes widen for a moment, and he quickly looks away from her and down at the joint between his fingers, he raises it up towards his mouth and places it between his lips. 

You saw it, the flash of hurt, the pain behind his dark eyes. 

And you can’t help but feel a pang of your own hurt, knowing how much he still mourns his past with her, how much it still hurts him that she isn’t his anymore, that he couldn’t make her happy, that he couldn’t make her feel the way Jonathan makes her feel. 

“Oh wow,” Robin murmurs, looking down wide eyed. 

“You gotta experiment!” Argyle says as she takes a look around, “as long as you’re single and you’re not hurting anyone, go around and have fun.” 

Steve’s eyes find yours and he holds contact for a moment. 

“Mhmm, I agree.” You nod. “But I think when you have that one person that you're deeply attracted to, both sexually and romantically, you can still have a lot of fun, you can experiment together and like, what do you need other people for when you have these types of feelings? You won’t get bored with that person.”

“Thank you!” Robin claps her hands together, “that’s what I’m talking about!” 

“But, as long as you don’t have that person, you can just… experiment and have fun with others if you feel like it,” you shrug, taking a sip of your drink. 

Steve’s eyes are glued on you, a weird feeling tugging in his chest. 

"Oh, really?" Your best friend smirks at you, leaning forward in his seat, he places his elbows on his knees, “and how many people have you experimented with?” He wiggles his brows, ‘knowing’ about the very recent one. 

Suddenly, all eyes are on you, all filled with curiosity. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Argyle groans at you, and so does Eddie, while the others chuckle. 

Steve, who watches you, not even expecting any other answer than ‘two guys’, knows about Billy and, well, himself. He passes the joint over to Robin and reaches for his beer instead. 

“Come on, it’s a tight little circle, no secrets leave this,” Robin gestures to the group, “how many hearts did you break?” 

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, tugging the blanket closer to your body. 

“Well, I have never broken any hearts before,” you start, avoiding his eyes, “but uh… there have been a… few… guys.”

You miss the way Steve freezes, the way he holds his beer midair as he was just about to take a sip from the can. 

“Give us the number girl!” Eddie complains. 

If you weren’t so tipsy, you would have probably felt much more flustered, beneath all the gazes. 

With a sigh, you lean back in your chair, and look at your best friend, “fine… eight.” 

Eddie gasps, his brown eyes grow so wide that it makes you laugh. 

It’s truly a tragedy that you didn’t look at Steve, you would have seen the shocked and the very upset look on his face after that revelation. 

“Holy shit!” Robin laughs in surprise, “I-I would’ve never thought! N-Not that it’s a bad thing of course, it’s just, you’re so… reserved!” She turns to look at Steve, also missing the look on his face, “look at you, you both have something in common!” 

“Wow,” Jonathan slurs, dragging out the word, “good for you, grumpy.” He holds his drink up at you. 

Nancy’s eyebrows are furrowed, her lips pursed as she looks at you in question, “so… are they like… all from Hawkins?” 

“Oh no, no…” You shake your head, now catching a glimpse of Steve who stares at you with an unreadable look on his face. “My sister invited me to college parties, and we uh… went out to bars in Indianapolis, it was just one night stands… nothing deep, really.” 

“Damn, sweetheart,” Eddie whistles, “I didn’t know you were so wild.” 

While everyone seems to be very entertained by your sex life, Steve can’t help but feel irritated by it, despite not knowing any of the details yet. 

“How many were from Hawkins?” Nancy asks.

“Just uh… one.” 

Despite the bitterness on his tongue, he can’t help but smirk, knowing that he is the one, pride swelling inside of him. 

“Do we know him?” Robin asks and Steve nearly chuckles, but then you say something that makes the smirk drop again. 

“Um no, I don’t think so… I mean, he went to our school, but was like two years older? He was the captain of the football team.”

Vickie’s eyes widen, but she bites her tongue, while Robin furrows his brows, trying to figure out who it was. 

Nancy and Jonathan glance at each other, furrowing their brows. 

And, Steve… Oh, Steve is really not having the best time tonight. He knows exactly who you mean, Jacob Leeney. 

In his King Steve era, he always considered him his rival. 

While he was the captain of the basketball team, Jacob was the captain of the football team, and both of them were on the swim team, competing with each other to steal another number one spot. The girls loved him just as much as they loved Steve, if not more. Unlike him, who brought out the asshole side of himself to woo the girls, Jacob was nice to them, a real ‘sweet’ gentleman who used his plastered kindness to get his latest conquest in his bed. 

He can’t believe you were one of his girls. 

He can’t believe you fucked this many people in general, let alone Jacob fucking Leeney. 

“You fucked Jacob!?” Eddie jumps up, “when!?” 

You’re a little confused by the anticipation in his features, like there’s more he wants to ask, like there’s more that he knows. 

“Uh… last year?” 

“It was you!” He laughs loudly, pointing his ringed finger at you, “Fuck, Jacob. Holy shit, sweetheart, are you that good?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Steve clenches his jaw, glaring daggers at Eddie. 

“What?” You chuckle, confused. 

“I was outside and he approached me after making me wait for like forty minutes to sell him weed as he had asked, and he just went ‘sorry man, I just had the best head and fuck of my life.’”

Steve feels nausea rising up to his throat, blood rushing to his cheeks from the irritation that grows inside of him. He stares at you, unable to tear his eyes away, and right now, he can’t tell whether he wants to drag you out of here and fuck you in his car to show you that he’s the best you’ve ever had or just leave by himself as the anger inside of him grows and grows. 

Pictures of you and Jacob flash in his mind, making him clench his jaw and holding the can tighter, bending it a little. 

Did you moan for Jacob the same way you did for him? 

Did you cling to his body too?

Did you beg him for more? 

“How do you even know it was me, Eddie!?”

“Was it at Caroline’s house?”

“Doesn’t prove it’s me–”

“November 3rd.” 

Silence fills the air around you all.

“Oh shit, it was me…”

Nancy giggles at you and at the flustered expression on your face. 

“Looks like you got some competition, Steve,” Robin laughs, slapping her best friend’s shoulder, “we got a fuckboy and a fuckgirl in this round.” 

“I’m not a fuckgirl–”

“Sure you’re not, Blondie,” Steve says a little too harshly, “just that you fucked eight guys!” 

And he wonders if you’re still doing that, if you’re still fucking others, even now. 

The smug look on your face tells him that you do – is that the reason why you didn’t call? Because you had someone else who entertained you when he didn’t? 

The thought fills him with anger and he doesn’t even know why. 

You can do whatever you want, whoever you want. 

He was the one who set up that rule.

If you do fuck others, maybe he should too. 

“So?” You shrug at him, smirk tugging at your lips as you finally look at him. 

He clenches his jaw, squinting his eyes at you. 

You’re a little taken aback by the very obvious anger in his features, and yet, you can’t help but get distracted by how good he looks under the orangey glow of the fire.

“Aw, are you jealous that someone could beat your score?” Argyle laughs, wiggling his brows at Steve. 

“Yeah, Steve,” Robin smirks, “how many girls did you fuck?” 

You watch him curiously but you already know that no number will surprise you. Steve was or maybe he still is a real fuckboy, maybe not the rough kind, but still. 

He clears his throat, looking around awkwardly as he scratches the back of his neck, before his eyes settle on you. 

“Well, Blondie and I are actually on the same score.”

And here you thought you wouldn’t be surprised, you expected more from him. 

Eddie laughs beside you, “are you playing in the same league though? What popular chick did you bang?”

Now that is something you don’t really want to know about. It’s not that you’re not curious about it, you just don’t want to deal with any more insecurities. 

But Steve doesn’t bite his tongue, he could look at anyone right now, he could look at Eddie, who had asked him the question in the first place, but instead, he looks right at you. 

“Jennifer Mitchell.” 

Oh. 

You have to bite your lip to stop your jaw from dropping. 

You heard all about Jennifer Mitchell, Billy told you everything you… didn’t even want to know. The girl wasn’t exactly popular in school, but she was known… for one or two things. 

Steve gives you a smug look, and you can’t even hold back from rolling your eyes at him. 

“And the scratch marks?” Eddie asks, smirking. “Was that Heidi?” 

You look down, pressing your lips together. 

“What scratch marks!?” Robin gasps. 

Steve clears his throat, running his fingers through his hair, panic settling in his gut. 

Robin knows all about Heidi, and she knows that the girl isn’t capable of rough sex. 

Maybe the alcohol in her system and another made up lie of his, will satisfy her though, so he tells her that Heidi changed, that she is now… experimenting. And he relaxes a bit, when she starts asking other questions, ones that aren’t about Heidi. 

You don’t sit there and listen for long, not wanting to know the details about his times with other girls. You can’t stand it, so you pick up your empty glass and get up to walk into the house, ‘in need of another drink.’ But you only place the glass on the kitchen counter and stand there for a few minutes, staring at the alcohol bottles. 

The jealousy that you feel is nothing new, you felt it countless times before, but it’s so much more intense now, because before last weekend, you never had him. 

Now you kind of do, and it’s not a pleasant feeling to hear all about his sex life, to wonder if he’s still seeing others – you’ve been overthinking about it enough this week already. 

You hear your friends laughing, and you wonder what else Steve had told them that is so funny. 

You roll your eyes and push yourself away from the counter, leaving the kitchen and making your way upstairs and into the direction of the bathroom, needing a moment to yourself. 

You turn on the light in the darkened room, but just as you’re about to step inside, you hear footsteps behind you. You turn around to see Steve walking towards you, with a look on his face that you can’t make out, right now. 

You tilt your head to the side, plastering a confident smile on your lips, “miss me already?” 

He catches you off guard when he places his hands on your waist and pushes you further into the bathroom, he closes the door behind him and locks it. 

Beneath the bright lights, you can see his eyes much better, they’re dark as they stare directly into yours. His hair somehow still looks perfect, despite being in the pool all day and constantly running his fingers through it, it looks just as good as always. His nose and his cheekbones are red from being out in the sun, he’s wearing a flannel, the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, the top buttons undone. You have to swallow harshly when you eye the chest hair and his sun kissed skin that peeks through, you have to tear your eyes away but he looks so… good. You can’t help yourself. 

Steve lets go of your waist, he crosses his arms over his chest, his face hardens. 

“So eight huh?” 

You lift your brows, surprised at his question, you didn’t think that this is what he came here for. 

“What’s to it?” 

“Am I number eight, Blondie?” 

“No,” you smirk, “number nine.” 

His jaw clenches a little, he blinks slowly as he glares into your eyes a little. 

“What is it, King Steve?” You ask, reaching your hand out, you place your finger on his chest, dragging it down a bit, “afraid I have more experience than you? Cause trust me… that is entirely true.” 

He chuckles at you, shaking his head, “you wish.” 

“I don’t have to wish,” you shrug, “but do tell, am I your number eight?” 

“Nah,” he whispers as his eyes flicker to your hand, to your fingertips that trace the exposed skin beneath his flannel, he gulps, trying not to show how your touch makes him feel, “you’re my number nine too.” 

“Uh huh,” you murmur. 

You wonder how many girls he had been with after Nancy left him. 

You wonder when Jennifer happened, before or after her. 

“You know, you kinda flinched a little at the mention of Jennifer,” Steve says with a very amused voice. 

“Nope,” you shrug, looking at him innocently, “just surprised you would fuck her, that’s all.” 

“Well… she certainly knew what she was doing,” he says, testing the waters to see how you will react. 

“And what exactly did she do, Harrington?”

“I’ll keep that to myself.” 

The smile on his lips and the prideful look in his eyes sparks your anger, the one that’s been brewing inside of you, all week. Yet somehow, the sadness and your insecurities were stronger than the raging emotion that now takes control of you, alongside the deep jealousy that pushes you to do something that you have been craving all fucking day. 

You throw aside all your thoughts, all your worries, and you take the leap. 

You place your hands against his chest, watching the way his smile falls as surprise lights up in his hazel eyes. You slam him against the wall next to the door that he just locked, you grab his face and pull him down, smashing your lips against his. 

Steve gasps against your lips, and you can’t help but feel excitement rushing through you. He melts against you so quickly, and so easily. He cups your cheeks and kisses back just as roughly. 

No matter how fast his lips move against yours, he isn’t the one in control today, and he knows it, he can feel it… and to his surprise, he doesn’t mind it. 

You press your tongue against his bottom lip, and he wastes no second to let you slip it into his mouth. He presses his palm against your cheek, moaning when you deepen the kiss further. 

You get lost in it, just the way you did the first time and the second time. You get so lost in his kiss that nothing around you matters anymore – not your friends who could come looking for you both any minute, not your jealousy that makes you seethe, not the fact that he isn’t yours. Nothing matters, only he does. 

He keeps moaning against your lips and as you press your chest against his and you feel him against your stomach, you can’t help but moan too. 

It takes everything in you not to drop to your knees and use your mouth to worship him, just the way you had always wanted to. 

Not yet, you tell yourself. 

You throw your arms around his neck and let your fingers get lost in his hair, tugging at it as you keep your hands busy, so you don’t give into your lust and slide your palm down his stomach and into his pants. 

You can feel that he tries to take control but you don’t let him and the moment you press your thigh between his legs, he’s done for, he stops trying to fight for dominance. A whimper falls from his lips as they stop moving against yours for a moment, stunned by your little move. 

His hands fall from your face down to your waist, holding onto it tightly as you kiss him like it’s the last thing you will ever do. 

Steve’s heart is racing in his chest, out of pure shock, his stomach fluttering and his dick twitching in his pants – he needs you, he wants you so bad. He is starting to grow breathless, but he doesn’t want this moment to end, not yet. It’s been bad enough waiting for your call all week, he had to use his hand more times than he could count as his mind kept taking him back to you. 

Now you’re here, right in front of him, and you clearly still want him just as much as he wants you. And your lips, your lips taste so good, a hint of strawberry from the balm you always carry around the cocktails that you’ve been drinking all day. 

The roughness of the kiss, the intensity and your touches show him that there is a side to you that he hasn’t had the pleasure of getting to know just yet, but he wants it, so so bad. 

You tug at his hair, tilting his head back a little as your tongue keeps moving against his and the kiss somehow grows deeper and hungrier, moans falling from your lips, echoing through the room with his. 

Neither of you care about the possible consequences. 

Steve nearly busts in his pants when you press your stomach against his aching dick. You let your left hand roam his shoulder, his chest and his stomach, your fingertips start inching closer and closer to where he needs you the most. 

But just as he’s about to break the kiss to start begging for you to touch him, you roughly pull away and take a step back from him, leaving him without the warmth you just provided him with. 

He almost whines at the loss of your touch. 

Now the room is filled with panting and loud breathing besides the deafening silence. 

You bite your lip, tasting the beer and the mint that his lips have left behind. Your knees nearly buckle as you take in the sight of him. 

Flushed cheeks, messy hair and puffy lips, along with the big eyes that are filled with nothing but desperation and lust. 

Despite the fluttering in your heart, as you stare at the man before you, you can’t help but smirk. 

Who would’ve thought you could turn him into that? 

That you could leave him desperate and panting for more. 

You take a step forward again, watching the way his curious eyes follow every of your movement, lips parting as he slightly leans down, thinking that you will kiss him again. 

And you do, just not the way he wanted you to. 

You press your lips to his cheek, giving it a soft and teasing kiss before you lean closer to his ear. 

“I’ll wait for you at my house later.” 

And with that, you step away from him, you unlock the door and open it, throwing another glance over your shoulder at a very flustered Steve – a look that leaves you swelling with pride and a glimpse of hope. 

You can feel the way he reacts to your touches, you can see how red his cheeks can glow for you, how lust filled his eyes can get – something that never even happened in the past, not even once but now here you both are.

You doubt that he could ever feel more for you than this. 

And yet, you would wait for years. 

You would wait forever. 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @taintedcigs @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @agirlwholovesrockstars

[slytherinshua]

KISS, KISS, BABY

genre. fluff. a little suggestive. warnings. this has no plot they're just making out 😞 that's the plot. pairing. sohee x fem!reader. wc. 532. request. no. a/n. i had this idea since like the first day i saw sohee's beauty marks... anyway he's so pretty his name is actually pretty boy #1.

If there was one thing that Sohee would never get tired of, it was kissing you. His lips had been tangled with yours for the past 10 minutes, at least, but it barely felt like 5 seconds since you had fallen into his arms. Your hands tousled his hair, the slight tug always gentle on his scalp yet earnest. A small whine left his lips when he felt his breath running out. He didn’t want to stop kissing you, but despite his large lung capacity, he was quickly running out of air. 

He pushed you off his lips just slightly, a puff of air leaving him as he sighed. You frowned, blinking your eyes back open at the sudden intermission of your make out session.

“Are you tired? Do you want me to stop?” You whispered, pulling your hands back away from his head in case he didn’t want to continue. You didn’t want to overstep any boundaries; even if you had been dating for a while, it was always important to stay on the same page.

Thankfully, he shook his head with a slight smile, “No. Wanna keep kissing you. Promise.” He murmured, words coming out breathless and soft as he tugged on your sleeve for another peck. You let him catch his breath, pressing soft kisses to the moles on his cheek and neck. He giggled at the ticklish feeling and turned his head again, silently letting you know he was ready for you to kiss him again.

His lips were slightly swollen from the previous kisses, tinted a deeper red and incredibly soft (though, they always were). They moved with yours in perfect sync, tongues intertwined in a gentle dance. Sohee tasted like mint, and the scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses. 

You felt like you could practically melt into him from how close you were, bodies pressed against the other yet at the same time not close enough for how obsessed you were with him. Everything about him had you addicted. His touch, taste, scent, voice, laugh. You could on for hours, finding more ways that he had you wrapped around his finger.

As you eagerly kissed, you felt his racing heart from the pulsepoint on his neck where your hand rested. Warmth spread in your chest, up the back of your neck, finding its way to tint your ears a brighter colour. Although the kiss was anything but shy, the thought that you had such an effect over him still brought butterflies to your stomach. 

It felt like both hours had passed and no time at all when you finally pulled apart again, this time intent on stopping. It was getting later, and drowsiness was already hitting you.

“You know, legend says that the beauty marks on your face are where your soulmate kissed you in your past life.” You mumbled, adoring Sohee’s face, a finger tracing over his soft skin.

“Really?” He smiled, brushing his nose with yours. You nodded. “I guess you liked kissing me a lot in our past lives too.” He whispered, closing his eyes as your touch relaxed him. You smiled in content at his hidden message. He was your soulmate.

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[sugar-grigri]

Denji is awake, Asa is already inside and Yoshida is Chainsaw Man's ally

We interpreted the last chapter in reverse, so why not continue the exercise?

I haven't read any reaction, but I know in advance that Yoshida will be shown in the same way: as a cold being always there to make Denji's situation worse. But the observation is quite the opposite: he's the one who's constantly negotiated for his situation. Worse still, interpreting him as an ally makes everything absolutely clearer.

I know what I'm saying may come as a surprise, after all, he's the one who announced Denji's dismemberment and doesn't seem to be doing anything to stop it. But don't interpret things that way, the whole answer is in the title.

The title refers to the ambient sounds of Denji's dismemberment, having no words at all, whereas titles usually refer to the dialogue in the chapter. Why is this? Because the answers are in the scenery and the unspoken words.

For example, the answers lie in the questions that seem to be answers (stay focused): for example, we learn that Denji slept for a week… OK… but why exactly did they let him sleep for a week ? The protagonist asks Yoshida: why didn't you wake me up before?

In addition : why wake him now?

The chapter deliberately focuses on a cold Yoshida, who announces that he's put him back to sleep. But why wake him up to tell him all this and then put him back to sleep? After all, the contract had already been broken, Denji couldn't negotiate.

Because it's been a week since Yoshida negotiated to give Denji one last chance. In any case, the time that has elapsed shows that there have been negotiations about what to do with this out-of-control Chainsaw Man. Why is Yoshida doing this? Because more and more, he starts trying to protect him, even though he's supposed to control him. We'll see that his principles and his own way of surviving will also be increasingly undermined.

Yoshida knows that Asa has a connection with devils, whether it was when he prevented Denji from revealing his identity after fighting Yuko or or when he assisted Yoru during the aquarium arc. Telling her to stay away from Denji was a means of protection, as he knew that she was a disruptive element, which could lead Denji to either reveal his identity or transform and thus put himself in danger.

In chapter 132, Yoshida appeared in an extremely dominant position with a bound Denji, with Yoshida looking almost antagonistic. But in reality, the direct consequence of Yoshida's intervention was an equal negotiation around a table about Nayuta and being Chainsaw Man in the chapter 133 that followed. Above all, Yoshida presented himself as a malevolent force when, in reality, Nayuta arrived earlier than expected, a sign that she was safe and already freed.

Above all, we know that there is a mole because the information leaked to the detriment of the church, the public hunters were aware of the attack to the point that Quanxi stopped it before it went off at 5pm. Worse than a leak, there was an exchange of information because the church was not at all destabilised and had already planned its response with the fire demon.

If you're still not convinced: then interpret Fumiko as the strict inverted product of the system that Yoshida has become. Fumiko is a hunter who presents herself as younger than she is, calling Denji senpai even though she's older than he is, while Yoshida never behaves like the teenager he is.

Fumiko also presents herself as Denji's ally, showing that she sees him as a child, whereas she has never had the will to protect him and has always dehumanized him. Yoshida does the opposite, presenting himself as Denji's enemy, playing on the fact that he's the only figure among the public hunters to negotiate with him and face his wrath, preventing him from doing what he wants while secretly helping him.

Yoshida is beginning to worry about Denji, otherwise he'd be totally indifferent to the fact that he doesn't grasp the stakes of the dilemma the hunters are imposing on him. The aim of the public hunters was to send a hunter around Denji's age for more connection, but in reality it's Yoshida who is becoming more sensitive to Denji's actions than Denji is to Yoshida's words.

By being this mediator who enters into direct negotiations, he feels that he is not only responsible for what Denji may do, but by dreading the fact that he breaks the rules, he also begins to dread the consequence of having broken them: Denji will be in danger.

Negotiations then took place for a week to improve Denji's situation, but failed given the way Chainsaw Man behaved out of control. Yoshida could do nothing officially, so he turned to the last resource he had left: the war devil.

When Yoshida confronted Asa, we sensed that he himself was unsettled by what he was doing. We also feel this unease expressly in this chapter, when he sees the state Denji is in.

But what interests us most is that he apologizes to Asa for attacking her, even though she had followed the rules. It's as if Yoshida realised that, even if he made sure that we totally complied with the State and its conditions (Asa had to stay away from Denji, Denji mustn't transform), that wasn't enough to guarantee the security they were hoping for in return.

All this overturns Yoshida's principles in two ways. From a relational point of view, Yoshida sees solitude as a way of life less likely to be hurt, and we also see that his criteria for normality are the fact of being isolated. But the hunter's tactic backfired: instead of not getting hurt, he became increasingly concerned about the fate of the man he was supposed to dehumanise.

On another level, Yoshida's survival strategy is to trust the system, to trust it blindly and to accept its logic, hence his eyes without a glint in them, like Kishibe's, who had integrated them so as not to suffer. But more and more, he realises that this is not enough to guarantee safety. He realised this when he attacked Asa himself. But above all, Denji himself has never broken the rules. He never revealed his identity to anyone. And when he turned into the Chainsaw Man, the contract had already been broken by the actions of Barem, who attacked his dogs and cat. In reality, Denji trusted Yoshida's words, he had fully integrated them, but the state failed to protect him as it had promised.

It is easier, even if only politically, to accuse a 17-year-old teenager of not honouring his commitment than to recognise that the state was unable to protect dogs and a cat from the actions of the church to prevent this transformation.

But above all, and this is what's fascinating, is that Yoshida uses this very political way of presenting this state failure when he opens the doors and is heard by Fumiko and the other agents, as if to convince them that he's still on their side. Yoshida thought it was enough to be alone and trust the system, but Asa and Denji proved that it wasn't enough. This trust in the state can be represented by the tako-tsubo trap: the octopus enters these cylindrical jars thinking it can protect its fragile constitution by sticking to the sides, but in reality, the octopus remains at the bottom of the trap.

Yoshida becomes aware of the trap he is in and helps Denji more and more. When did he have this realisation? I can't date it, but what I can say for sure is that in chapter 156, he intends to help Denji. He wakes him up to talk to him one last time, he gives him information, if only temporal, and Denji only confirms the failings of the system: Yoshida doesn't know Nayuta's fate because the state has completely failed to protect her.

But more importantly, takotsubo is also a fairly rare heart condition that can be brought on by a great emotional shock, which Yoshida wants to avoid by isolating himself. But as we said, he's already in the trap, so he's already become more emotional.

So Yoshida wants to help Denji, but how? By doing the opposite of what he was supposed to do, bringing Asa back into the equation by warning her about Denji's situation and his position.

The dismemberment of Chainsaw Man is a more than secret operation, and Fumiko asks Yoshida for confirmation, a sign that he is one of the only people with the most reliable information about Chainsaw Man's fate. No-one else could have warned Asa. But above all, Yoshida's information is going to help the war demon: by redeeming himself.

Denji has one leg removed, then the other, but what's left? His arms, right? Whereas Asa's legs are shown at the very end. But what was she missing? Her arms, right?

And what are these doctors doing, harvesting limbs and obviously? On top of that, it's a big number... 26... 27... what the public hunters are surely doing is to weaken Chainsaw Man as much as possible by dividing him up, but to accentuate his division, they're pulling on Denji's strap to force his regeneration while playing on his sleep to leave him unconscious. A large number of Denji's body members are harvested.

And who cut off Asa's arm? Yoshida. What could he do? Place her arm among all Denji's arms. To leave her with a weapon of choice within these walls. Warn Asa, and take advantage of her severed arm by recovering it, was Yoshida's plan B.

I know your headache's already there, but let's get on with it. What's the chapter title? Ambient noises, right? But who hears them?

I'm going to say the first sounds are those of the helicopter. The others are those of the dismemberment operation. But who hears all these successive noises? Isn't Denji supposed to be asleep?

Quite simply because Denji has woken up, not physically but to recover his senses a little, hence the detail of his clenched fist and the fact that he can now hear. How is this possible? Probably because Yoshida made sure not to shoot him completely. Why not? Because not only does he need Denji to remain at least minimally conscious, he also needs him to stay awake out of fear for the uncertainty surrounding Nayuta's fate.

We can see that Nayuta's fate agitates Denji and even makes him semi-conscious. Telling her that she was fine would have had the opposite effect, as Denji would have had no desire to get up. I think you can see where I'm going with this, but it was in Denji's interest to frustrate him even more about Nayuta and that's exactly what Yoshida did.

Let's make a brief philosophical and legal point: Leviathan by Hobbes is a work that forms one of the bases for thinking about the relationship between man and the state. Hobbes wrote this essay while traumatized by the English civil wars, for whom the only way to avoid chaos would be to give our liberties to a powerful monarch.

Man is a danger to social well-being; his natural reflex is domination, enslavement and violence.

Giving our freedoms to the state provides a powerful arbiter who in turn ensures security and social peace - the social contract. Why Leviathan? Leviathan is none other than the State, a creature invented by men, against which no individual can compete. Yoshida works for the state and therefore symbolically for Leviathan, the octopus demon.

The quid pro quo of this contract with the State, the Leviathan, is security, which is not guaranteed, as Yoshida can testify. So what does Yoshida do? He helps the figure whose popularity threatened that of the State as the guardian of social peace. But above all, he is helping the element that the state fears most - civil war, i.e. war within its borders. Within its walls.

If Yoshida and Asa have one thing in common, it's that they prefer to be alone to avoid suffering. What they do, however, is join forces to prevent Denji from stopping suffering, to enable them to move forward just like the legs they lack.

Just like friends would do.