#and would have to go pretty much straight back to study/work stuff

[fluviusevos]

unfortunately i have the kind of autism that makes people have to explain things to me/i have to bounce my ideas around with people who know things before thoughts become anything for me

[wingfleur]

# — calling mark grayson "small."

got fried as fuck and this shit came to me like a prophecy. a dream. i know i have my to-do list, but it’s hard for me to write stuff i’m no longer in the exact headspace for. like, i need to wait until i can get into it enough to feel it the way i did when i first thought of it. anyways, this is set in a universe that’s pretty canon-compliant: mark and amber broke up, but he hasn’t dropped out of college (yet) or ended up with eve. you also have no clue he’s invincible, just that he’s had a glow up and your cute, dorky friend from high school is now fine as shit. i also listened to “party favors” by leon thomas and big sean the entire time i worked on this.

lastly, i'd like to give a humongous shoutout to @omniphilic for beta-reading this monster for me! much love, sunshine, and godspeed, my children. enjoy! | wc: 7.9k words.

cw: nsfw mdni (18+), afab!reader, a lot of porn with a lot of plot, light angst, confessions, banter, friends-to-lovers, mentions of amber (i love you girl but it’s so easy to use you as a plot device </3), oral sex (f!recieving), explicit sex (p in v), missionary, squirting, dirty talk, praise, soft!dom mark, consider this my apology for the hurt/very little comfort v!card mark x reader fic <3

thinking about you joking around with mark grayson and calling him… small. you know where.

it sounds like such a silly scenario, but walk w/ me: you and mark have an… odd friendship. looking back on it, you two were an unlikelier pair than winning the lottery. you’re from completely different worlds– you were more on the straight and narrow: the academic side of things. all you did was bust your ass, and you had plenty to show for it– friends, awards, this air of recognition that followed you from classroom to classroom.

and mark? well, he fell more into the category of incredibly average. average grades, average social life, even an average reputation amongst the student body– the kind that makes you easy to remember and always gets you labeled as a “pretty cool guy,” but keeps you out of any real trouble. maybe that’s part of his charm– the fact that everything about him is initially so unassuming, so run of the mill that you don’t even think twice. not until you start to get to know him.

there’s plenty that sticks out once you get to know him.

then, somehow, at the start of your senior year, you two ended up partnered together for a project in the same upper-level english class. y’know, the college freshman one everyone takes because it’s a cheap credit, regardless of if they’re going to harvard to study law, or to the local community college to save a bit of money. neither of you had many expectations, but you and mark became fast friends. mark’s awkward charm grew on you, and he already had a decent opinion of you from seeing you around, but finally being in a situation where he could talk to you and not feel like a nuisance only made him think of you more highly than before. you were cool as shit; he has no idea how you two hadn’t spoken sooner.

but it’s no surprise that you two absolutely nailed the project. with your smarts and mark’s willingness to learn, the grade on it ended up being so good that it made you jump into mark’s arms out of pure excitement. mark caught you effortlessly, spinning you around and giggling alongside you without a second thought. the intimacy of such a reaction didn’t dawn on you two until long after he set you down, you grinning giddily in his face, while he could do nothing but grin back.

that’s how you ended up here– lying in mark’s bed, long after graduation, and visiting home from campus on a long weekend. you’re wearing one of his t-shirts and reading one of his copies of seance dog as he works on a paper. when you found out you two would be attending the same university, you were more than stoked. mark was stoked too, but he was so sure you could’ve gotten into one of chicago’s finest, or, better yet, move away from illinois entirely, rather than attend upstate university. he gave you a hesitant look when you said you were more than content with your choice, saying that a degree is a degree no matter where you went and that as long as you could be with mark, it would be worth it. deep down, though, mark swore something bloomed in his chest that day. he doesn’t really know what that feeling was– is, to be more accurate, because he still feels it sometimes– but that’s the least of his worries. 

his main worry is getting this paper in by 11:59 pm tonight. 

and just like that, the rhythmic clacking of mark’s fingers against the keyboard fills the silence and leaves you to bask in this comforting sensation of warmth. you’re so relaxed that you can’t bring yourself to move. not that you would have wanted to, anyway.

it’s peaceful. so, of course, you have to ruin it. 

“you ever want to fuck a cartoon character?” you suddenly say, the copy of seance dog in your hand and your foot crossed over your knee. you hear the way mark’s typing pauses for a moment, and imagining his reaction forces you to bite back a snicker. a pregnant silence fills the room before the typing begins again, just as rhythmic and hypnotic as before.

“i know you’re not saying that about seance dog,” mark finally quips back, his voice dripping with an absurd amount of mirth. you can hear his smile in his voice– you always can, because mark rarely doesn’t smile. it’s one of your favorite things about him.

you can’t help but take the bait.

“you think i could be?” you ask, tone scandalized and brows raised. neither of you move to face each other just yet– you don’t need to. you can tell exactly what face mark’s making from the sound of his voice, and mark can do the same for you. it’s how he knows that you’ve stopped biting back that smug smile of yours– the one that creeps across your face when you’re clearly up to something, but he doesn’t know what. you’re a troublemaker; it’s one of his favorite things about you.

“yeah,” he replies without missing a beat, “i clearly know nothing about you. i was once dumb enough to think you were intimidating.”

“i’m still intimidating!”

“yeah, maybe on occasion,” mark teases, his typing ceasing completely so that he can spin around in his chair. he leans against it with his head tossed back and his arms on the armrests, eying you gleefully as you put the comic face down on the bed. “most of the time i forget because you’re too busy saying shit that’s uncomfortably close to ‘i wanna fuck seance dog.’”

“eat shit and die, mark.”

“i don’t wanna.”

“then shut the fuck up and answer the question!”

“fine, fine!” mark laughs and lifts his hands up lazily off the chair in mock-surrender. “‘course i’ve wanted to fuck a cartoon character. who hasn’t? i’m not a nun.”

something flashes in your eyes, and you shift to lean forward towards where mark’s sitting, propping up on your elbows on the bed. you grin mischievously; it’s clear you’re up to nothing remotely good. 

“who?” you ask.

mark replies immediately. “koriand’r.”

“wha– from the titans?”

“no, from the avengers. yes, from the titans. who else would i be talking about?”

“alright, down, boy,” you say amusedly, making mark roll his eyes. “i was just checking. but you obviously can’t handle that.”

mark raises an eyebrow. “says who?”

“uhh, says me?"

the two of you are still for a moment, and you start to fear you said something wrong until you see mark’s eyes darken in that telltale way they do when he starts to feel challenged. then, as if that wasn’t enough to give you goosebumps, he does that stupid, mindless thing he does with his tongue, where he runs it along the inside of his cheek. your breath stills in your chest when mark pushes up off the back of his chair and leans forward towards where you lie on the bed, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped between his thighs. 

it’s hard to keep your gaze from dropping to the veins in his hands.

“oh yeah?” mark asks incredulously, tilting his head. you were joking about being the intimidating one earlier, but the real intimidator is mark. when he gets serious, you swear you can feel something in the air shift. maybe that’s why it feels like the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up right now.

“why not?”

the question, in its simple nature, catches you off guard, and in a brief moment of confusion, you tilt your head. “why not what?” “why couldn’t i handle her?”

you stare at mark as if he’s joking, but instead of him laughing and waving you off, mark stares back at you expectantly, brow arched and lips quirked up at the corners. it’s like he wants to smile, but he can’t. won’t. 

this dickhead must have a death wish.

“what do you mean ‘why couldn’t you handle her?’” you say casually– like what you’re saying is most obvious thing in the world. “it’s koriand’r, mark. she’d chew you up and spit you out before you even had time to undo your belt.”

you swipe up your copy of seance dog and busy yourself with trying to find where on the page you last left off. honestly, it doesn’t matter where you start reading. you’re willing to do anything to help get your mind off the weight of mark’s eyes boring into you.

“besides,” you huff, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “koriand’r has standards, and you probably have a small dick, anyway.”

the second those words leave your mouth, the room falls deathly silent, and you swear it’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room. you fall still where you’re at, hoping that somehow, someway, you not moving will make mark want to kill you less. you really don’t know what possessed you to say that– it was a poor attempt at deflection, considering the growing amount of tension you began feeling in that room– but you don’t mean it. didn’t mean it. not one bit. 

you’re doing mental gymnastics to figure out how you can take it back without sounding like a total loser before mark starts laughing, and the joyous and boisterous sound gives you pause.

he couldn’t have found that funny… could he? 

okay, yeah, after a little bit of consideration, he very well could have. this is mark grayson, you’re talking about– not one of the insecure guys you were used to dealing with, who were more likely to blow a blood vessel than a load at the idea of being perceived as “unmanly.” mark’s the type of guy to wear one of your crop tops because he knows you’ll whine about him stretching them out, or wear a maid dress as a punishment for losing a bet, masking his embarrassment with quips about how good his legs look. you also know mark enough to know he’s not a virgin, nor is he a prude, but not well enough to know intimate details about his sex life. sure, jokes are fine, but a play-by-play on how he screwed his ex feels… invasive. beyond the scope of your shared comfort. it was just something you never thought of asking.

well, more like something you could never bring yourself to ask.

you set the comic back down on the bed just in time to watch mark wipe some tears from his eyes, twisting around to face his laptop with a smile on his face. he resumes typing like nothing happened, like you didn’t just obliterate his manhood and leave it in pieces for him to pick up off the floor. it’s hard not to gawk at him in disbelief, blinking rapidly for a few moments before speaking.

“that– didn’t upset you?” you say tentatively, voice a lot meeker than initially intended. mark huffs out a laugh and spins around, hands back to resting on the armrests.

“why would it have?” he says bemusedly, still smiling from before. “we joke like that all the time. honestly, i’m surprised you hadn’t said something like that sooner.”

you can only stare at him blankly, brows knitting in confusion as mark continues to regard you patiently. then, you sit up, pushing up off your elbows to swing around and upright, one leg dangling off the bed while the other stays bent in front of you. 

“why didn’t you get mad?”

mark pauses, eyes narrowing as he tilts his head. “...is this a trick question? why would i? you were joking around.”

“most guys would’ve gotten mad about me saying something like that.”

“yeah, well, most guys aren’t exactly confident about what they’re packing downstairs.”

“and you are?”

mark’s lips part for a second, but no words come out. he quickly shuts his mouth and stares at you, but you stare back, ignoring the way your cheeks start to burn with red-hot embarrassment. 

“well, yeah,” mark finally says, eyes flickering nervously to the side. he looks everywhere– the alarm clock on the dresser, his posters on the wall, everywhere but where you are, sitting prettily on his bed– but his eyes have no choice but to finally lock back onto yours, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “‘course i’m confident about it.”

“...‘cause it’s not small.”

he pauses. “yeah. ‘cause it’s not small.”

your brain short-circuits right then and there.

you aren’t sure why you’re so surprised by this. it wouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to arrive to this conclusion. you were around when mark started dating his ex-girlfriend, amber– around long enough to have seen the exact point in their relationship where they shed the last of their inhibitions and began interacting with each other much more comfortably. you were also around long enough to watch mark come into himself– to lose that dweebish, unsure aura around him and become more confident. muscled. tall. even if he was still pretty dorky most of the time.

perhaps that’s when the thoughts started: when you started to think of mark less as a boy, and more as a man. when you began wondering things about him that you desperately wanted to know, but were much too scared to ask.

at least you have an answer to one of them now.

“hey,” mark says suddenly, voice sharp enough to cut through all your overthinking and analyses. mark’s closer to you now– right next to you, actually, the scent of his cologne filling your nose– and he has your hand in his, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back. “you okay? should i not have said that–?”

you frantically shake your head. “no–! i mean, yes– god, fuck, no, mark, it’s okay.” you take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut. “i’m the one who asked. you just answered.”

you take in a shaky breath and let your eyes flutter open to find mark watching you adeptly, his eyes trained on your face. the expression he’s wearing is one of worry, those dark brows of his pinched in the middle to form a wrinkle you so desperately want to smooth out with your thumb. his plush, pink lips are parted, and in an attempt not to stare at them, your eyes fall to the floor, but not before momentarily catching on how his biceps strain against his sleeves.

for fuck’s sake, this is not the time to be focusing on how attractive you find your best friend.

“i wanted to know,” you finally say, voice soft and a little frayed around the edges. your eyes flutter shut again– something to give you a bit of extra courage to say what you need to say, and not cave under the pressure of your nerves. “i wanted the answer to that question. it sounds weird as fuck, and i totally understand if you want me to leave and never show my face around here again, but i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want to know.”

you open your eyes again to find mark still staring at you, eyes jumping all over your face, while sporting an unreadable expression. you find yourself swallowing hard as you steel yourself for what you want to say next, adjusting to sit and face mark completely. “i wanna know a lot of things about you, actually. and none of them are all that appropriate for two people who are supposed to be ‘best friends.’”

it’s mark’s turn to short-circuit.

“w–what?” mark stutters out, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression as his eyebrows shoot up in suprise. his mouth falls agape, opening and closing fruitlessly as he tries to figure out what to say. “i– jesus christ, i don’t think you understand what you’re saying–”

“i know exactly what i’m saying.” your interjection is quick and firm, your expression void of your previous nervousness and now completely serious. “and you know it. don’t insult me like that again.”

mark’s protests die in his throat.

“i want to know you,” you start. “honestly. intimately. fuck, to be honest, i want to see you– naked, in my bed– but i didn’t wanna make things weird, and then you had that whole thing with amber, and then i thought you were gonna date eve, so i kinda just kept it to myself, but–”

“you can know me.” 

you freeze. “what–?”

“you can know me,” mark says again, his hand squeezing the one that he has wrapped in his. “you can know me. and see me. and i’ll answer every other question you’ve had about me, ‘cause i wanna know you too.”

you can’t help but stare at mark , absolutely and completely dumbfounded. if he notices, he doesn’t judge. doesn’t acknowledge it at all, actually. he just continues to steamroll ahead.

“god, fuck, i really wanna know you like that, too,” he sighs. “always have– like, all the way back in high school. i’d see you in the halls with your friends and think, ‘man, they’re hot,’ then move on with my life because i thought there was no way i’d ever have a chance with you. then, we got partnered up for that project, and i learned that you were so much cooler and more approachable than i had ever imagined, and i wanted to make a move on you so bad, but i still thought there was no way you could ever like me. william can testify to this– i was talking his ear off about you 24/7. still do. he is seriously getting sick of it.” 

the way mark talks is fast– so much so that all his words bleed together, voice full of excitement and sincerity. it make your eyes sting. after he finishes, his quick way of talking tapers off into a hefty bout of silence, his beautiful brown eyes flickering down to your joint hands. 

“and then came amber.”

the quiet that follows drapes over the two of you like a blanket, heavy with the weight of everything you two are thinking, but ultimately remains unsaid. the fact of the matter is that it doesn’t need to be said. you and mark just… know– understand– that amber was the first person, aside from you, to treat mark as less of an expendable, and more like somebody worth knowing. she took the opportunities you were too afraid to– penciled her name in where yours was meant to be and slipped right on into that “partner” position, wearing it as if it was custom-fitted. it may as well have been, because it sure looked good on her. 

he looked good on her. that’s why you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad.

“i never would’ve gone out with her if i knew you wanted me even half as much as i wanted you,” mark says quietly, reaching up to rub a tear from your cheek that you didn’t even know you shed. “but i didn’t. and we dated, and i slept with her, and i loved her, but i feel all of that for you too, y’know.” he cradles your face delicately as he climbs up onto his knees, his movements slow, as if moving too quickly would scare you off. moving too quickly would remind you that this is real; remind you that you probably shouldn’t be doing this, causing you to hop off the bed and run down the hall, flying down the stairs, past debbie, and out the front door.

but you don’t have to worry. never have, actually, because the way mark treats you is careful. cautious. he’s kneeling on the bed and easing you onto your back with such rapt attention that it makes your cheeks warm, head turning to the side to shield it from him before he turns your head right back to where it was.

“i want you to ask your questions,” mark says slowly, large hands pushing your knees apart to make room for him between your legs. you can’t help but stare at him helplessly, any and all words dying in your throat, but mark moves with a confidence that makes it clear you don’t need to speak. not when he’s hovering over you like this. 

“i want to answer your questions, and i want you to do the same for mine. ‘cause i’ve thought about you. a lot. and not all of it was decent. actually, most of it probably wasn’t.”

mark lets himself laugh softly at the admission, but you can only look up at him in awe, the muscles of your brows twitching from the urge to knit in confusion. mark’s eyes catch this, and he reaches down to smooth his thumb over the spot right between your eyebrows– the same way you wanted to do for him earlier.

“so tell me that this is okay.”

mark trails his fingers across your skin, skimming over your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, and all the way down your arm until reaching your hand. he tangles your fingers together and brings your wrist to his lips, a soft kiss being pressed to your pulse, which makes your heart stutter in your chest. mark doesn’t tease you for how vulnerably you stare at him, or for how red his actions make your face. he only looks down at you with a soft smile, peppering kisses to your palm.

“holy shit, mark, this is more than okay.”

mark’s grin is blinding when you surge forward to kiss him.

the thing that surprises you most about it isn’t how good of a kisser mark is, or how nice it feels for his big hands to come up and cradle your jaw. it’s how easy all of this is– how uncomplicated it is to be making out with mark, how your lips slot together as if it’s always meant to be this way, how raw his groan is when you tangle your fingers into his hair and tug. he has you pressed against the bed in seconds, one hand slowly slipping beneath your t-shirt as the other squeezes at your outer thigh. you feel dizzy when your lips part and he ducks his head down into your neck, sucking bruises into the skin with a fervor that makes you squirm.

“i– fuck, mark, not where people can see–!”

“does it matter if it’s visible? ‘s not like you’re fucking anyone else right now besides me.”

you hit mark hard against his back, but it only makes him chuckle, sitting up to look at you with messy hair and blown pupils. “what? you haven’t slept with anybody in a while, and you’re about to sleep with me. i didn’t say anything wrong.”

“how do you even know that, asshole?”

mark grins, sitting back on his haunches as he hooks the hem of your shirt on his index finger. he tugs it up enough to reveal your stomach. “‘cause you’re lying here in my bed, wearing my shirt, with me sitting between your legs. if i was the person you’ve been fucking, i’d definitely feel some type of way about that.”

you scoff, moving one of your legs to try and kick at mark’s chest. like the little shit he is, he catches it easily and presses a kiss to your ankle, setting it on one of his shoulders. “that doesn’t mean anything. i could have casual sex if i wanted to.”

“yeah,” mark agrees, both hands coming to smooth his shirt up the expanse of your body, “you could. if you wanted to. but you don’t, ‘cause you’re not like that.”

“bullshit.”

“is not. here, open your mouth for me.”

“wh–?”

“shut up and open it for a second, would you?”

you shoot mark a withering glare, but he just grins back, pushing your shirt up under your chin and offering the hem for you to bite down on.

“thank you,” he says gleefully, his words a little too airy and sing-songy for you to let slide. you try and kick him again, but he blocks your leg without much of a second thought, eyes laser focused on the sight of your tits in front of him.

“wow, you are so fucking pretty.”

the way he says it is so full of awe– so genuine– that it makes your mouth fall open. the t-shirt in your mouth gets stuck on your bottom lip in the process, and the sight makes mark chuckle, a boyish grin settling on his face. he reaches up to adjust it and pulls it back up so you can bite down on it again.

“i didn’t even say anything crazy yet,” he teases, laughing as you do your best to swear at him from around the fabric. mark ignores it to focus on the sight in front of him instead, though, fingers tracing up your rib cage before cupping the underside of each of your breasts.

your mind goes blank when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“oh, fuck,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed and into his mouth. the t-shirt slips from between your teeth again, and you can feel mark grin around where his tongue swirls around your skin, popping off to look at you and chastise you softly.

“jeez, you really suck at following instructions,” mark playfully says. “and did you forget that my mom is downstairs? i’ve had her knock on the door during sex before, and trust me, it does not help to sustain the mood.”

“god, you sound like such a dork. ‘it does not help to sustain–’”

mark cuts you off with a groan, fingers curling into the waistband of your shorts and panties. “shut up and lift your hips already.”

you giggle. “fine, fine.”

you plant your feet and lift your hips off the bed enough for mark to tug your clothes off, separating your shorts from your underwear so he can tuck the garment into his pocket. You look at him with a flustered expression, mouth dropping open in bewilderment, but mark simply sticks his tongue out at you and flings your shorts to the floor, panties nowhere in sight. you hardly have enough time to process him keeping them for himself before he’s wrapping his hands around your thighs and tugging them onto his shoulders, putting him face to face with your cunt and lifting your lower back completely off the bed.

you knew mark was strong, but you never thought of him using his strength like this.

mark holds you firmly as he busies himself with eating you out like a man starved. those big, brown doe eyes of his look down at you, sometimes lingering on the rise and fall of your chest, and sometimes taking in the sight of your knitted brows and parted lips, both your hands tangled in the pillow behind your head. his eyes do fall shut every once in a while as if he’s savoring the taste of you on his tongue, and he probably is, knowing mark, but you don’t have the wherewithal to tease him. not now, at least. not when he’s got his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in these sporadic little bursts that make your stomach burn with molten need.

“oh, f-uck,” you gasp, voice cracking on the expletive. in your defense, it’s the only word you currently feel like you know how to say, but mark doesn’t laugh or tease you for it. he just presses a messy kiss to your clit, then slides his tongue down through your folds to circle your hole, slowly and messily pressing inside of you. he pumps it in and out for a few moments, as if he’s trying to fuck you with his tongue, then flattens the muscle and drags it back up to your clit to press into it firmly. you untangle your fingers from the sheets and reach up to swat at mark’s thigh, twisting and turning frantically in his hold.

“oh my fucking god, mark, let go!” your whines are urgent, thighs beginning to quiver on either side of mark’s head. his eyes flutter open enough to look at you through his long, thick lashes, but his firm grip on your waist doesn’t let up in the slightest. his arms tighten around you, keeping your pussy to his lips and your body off the bed as he continues to ravage you like it’s the one thing he was born to do. “mark! ‘m fuckin’ serious– i’m gonna squirt if you don’t let go of m– oh, fuck!”

you realize your warning is a bit late as you feel that knot tighten and snap in your belly, but it would’ve fallen on deaf ears regardless of whether you said it earlier or not. your cunt gushes all over mark’s nose, lips, and chin, soaking the top of his t-shirt and dribbling a bit down onto the bed below. you’d think he’d have a concern of drowning, but mark’s tongue keeps moving as you cum, legs squeezing against his ears so tight that you’re sure he can hear absolutely nothing but his own heartbeat. you know you sure can’t– all you can hear is the distant sound of your own voice, and the way your breathing stutters in your chest, a series of tremors wracking your body so brutally that you’d liken them to an earthquake. 

“shit,” you gasp softly, limbs tingling once they regain sensation. you wriggle in mark’s grasp and he pulls back from your pussy with a pop!, lowering your hips down to the bed as he runs his tongue along his lower lip.

“you said you were about to squirt as if that was going to deter me,” mark says breathlessly, a soft laugh punctuating his sentence. his face is covered with your slick all over his lips and chin, the sun from the window catching on it in a way that makes it glisten. you’re embarrassed by his nonchalance, but it’s hard to be mad when mark looks this good. you did this to him– made his perfectly slicked-back hair disheveled, and soaked his lower face and chest in your cum. normally, you would reply to his quip right away, but right now, you don’t. you’re much too focused on watching how mark leans down to reach behind his head and grab at his shirt, shucking it off in one smooth motion to join your discarded shorts on the floor.

“it was supposed to,” you finally say, voice sounding just as breathless as mark’s. his lips quirk up at the corners, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. instead, he leans over you to open his bedside drawer, and you take that as an opportunity to continue. “didn’t realize i was sleeping with superfreak, over here.”

mark snorts. “i’m just a guy who prioritizes my partner’s pleasure over mine.”

“that’s a roundabout way to say you like to eat pussy. and ass. oh god, mark, you don’t eat ass, do you?”

mark wiggles his eyebrows in response, and you look at him with such a horrified expression that a giggle can’t help but escape from his chest. he shuts the bedside table with a soft thud and leans back over you with a strip of two condoms hanging from his mouth. your brows shoot up at the sight, but mark doesn’t see it. he’s much too focused on pushing his sweatpants and boxers down to his thighs, cock slapping lightly against his abs.

oh. you always knew mark looked good, but this? this is something else entirely.

“you’re staring,” mark says wryly, tearing one of the condoms from the strip, then opening up the wrapper with his teeth. you watch as he pinches the tip and rolls the condom onto himself with a level of precision that screams of practice. if you hadn’t just cum your brains out, you might’ve found yourself feeling a little bit jealous.

“‘course i am.” your reply is shameless, and it makes mark bark out a startled laugh. “you said it was big, not that you were carrying a weapon. now here you are, looking like asian adonis with my jizz on your face, rolling a condom on with the ease of a common whore. not to mention that you grabbed two of them.”

a giddy smile spreads across mark’s face in reply, but it’s not one of his usual ones: it’s bashful. it’s the kind of smile where he bites his lip to force it down, but it doesn’t work, so his bottom lip slowly unfurls from between his teeth. your ears burn bright red at the sight, but mark doesn’t comment on it. mark’s never been good at multitasking, and he’s much too focused on tossing the unopened condom to the side, then tugging you against him by your thighs.

“we don’t have to use them both,” mark says softly, the sweetness of his smile bleeding into his voice. it’s a bit jarring for him to be acting so adorably, like he’s not running his cock along the seam of your folds. the tip catches on your clit every so often, making your breath catch in the back of your throat.

“i like how that’s what you chose to comment on.” 

he shrugs. “didn’t have much else to say.”

“you’re a dog, you know that, mark?”

mark grins at you wickedly, leaning down to lick a stripe up your cheek.

“mm, yeah. ‘m guilty as charged.”

and just like that, he sinks into you, bottoming out in one smooth thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. your eyes screw shut, but you latch onto him immediately, hand shooting out in search of his. he takes it wordlessly, bringing your hand up so he can kiss your knuckles.

“you okay?” he asks tenderly, lips pressed to the back of your hand. you open your eyes, tears pricking at the corners, then nod slowly as a deep breath leaves your nose.

“yeah,” you say shakily. “just been a while. warn me next time.”

mark nods, doing his best not to get caught up on the fact that you want there to be a next time. “sure,” he answers. “sorry. here– put your legs on my shoulder.”

you lift your legs for mark to take, and he settles both of your feet on one of his shoulders like they belong there. then, he shifts forward, shuffling up so that his thighs bracket your hips, which slots him deeper into you than he has any business being.

it makes you feel crazy. you fucking love it.

once mark feels stable in his position, and any remnants of discomfort bleed from your expression, he starts rocking his hips in and out of you at a pace too quick to be languid, but too slow to be considered harsh. whatever rhythm he’s fallen into, it feels good. you’re clawing at the sheets at your sides and behind your head like a madman, that copy of seance dog he lent you long forgotten on the floor, along with everything else you two have taken off. 

“does this answer one of your questions?” mark asks lowly, eyes half-lidded and jaw tight. he’s got your legs pressed to his chest with one hand, the other splayed across your stomach to hold you in place. you can tell it’s not that simple, though; the firmness with which he presses down against your stomach is as if he’s feeling for something, and the realization makes you clench, cunt squelching lewdly around his cock inside you. “did you wonder how i fuck? if i liked it fast? or did it slow?”

in your day-to-day conversations, mark doesn’t swear all that often– at least, not compared to you– but the mouth he’s got on him in bed is a surprise that makes you flush down to your chest. you look up to see mark gazing at you with eyes that are almost black, a bright blush fanning across his freckled cheeks and nose. when he sees you struggle to answer, the gears clearly turning, but no words coming out, he grips your legs tighter and quickens the snap of his hips. mark’s lips fall open with a breathy moan as he watches the way your eyes roll back, and his abdomen clenches with the need to keep his own pleasure at bay. “c’mon, baby. tell me. tell me how you want it, ‘n’ i promise i’ll do whatever you say.”

“i– god, fuck, mark, yes, i wondered how you fucked!” your reply comes out breathy, whiny, and and rushed– a result of you making an actual effort to focus so it didn’t come out as a jumbled, inaudible mess. “i w-wondered if you’d treat me like glass, or fuck me like i had no self-respect. i don’t care what you do right now– swear t’god i don’t– ‘cause i just wanna cum. don’t fucking stop.”

mark huffs out a laugh at how desperate you sound, lips quirking up in a lopsided smile that shows off the cute little fangs he has in the corners of his mouth. he turns his head to kiss one of your ankles, then takes one to put it on the opposite side, making it so you have one leg on each of his shoulders. large, calloused hands slide down your legs and smooth over your thighs before taking your hands into each of his. you’re about to ask what he’s doing, but there’s no time for the words to come out. he’s already gripping both your wrists and tugging you forward, forcing your ass to smack against his thighs with every brutal snap of his hips.

your brain is about to melt out of your fucking ears.

“did you touch yourself?” mark’s asks breathlessly, dark eyes focused on your face. you try desperately to free your hands from his grasp, but your attempts are pathetically uncoordinated. the way his cock is rearranging your guts makes it impossibly difficult to focus. but despite your lack of success, your writhing makes mark tut at you disapprovingly, and he leans forward to keep you in place by resting a fraction of his body weight on your chest. “quit trying to run ‘n’ tell me. did you touch yourself thinking about me fucking you? imagining how it would be?”

mark leans down to lick a stripe up the side of your neck, voice dropping to a filthy, sultry whisper. “‘cause i did. thought about this all the time, what you’d feel like around me. it’s so much fuckin’ better than i imagined.”

you nod your head frantically, hands clenched into fists, and your nails dig so roughly into your palms that it’s a miracle it hasn’t drawn blood. mark isn’t completely satisfied with your response, but he takes it for what it is and releases both of your wrists in favor of grabbing onto your hips.

“if you touched yourself while thinking of me, then show me. play with it for me, hm?”

you don’t need much more coaxing than that.

your fingers fly to your clit at lightening speed, middle and ring finger rubbing in quick, tight circles that mark finds absolutely hypnotizing. your other hand comes up to palm at your breasts, pinching and tweaking at your nipples in a way that makes you whine. mark damn near growls at the sight, a string of expletives you’ve never heard from him before being let out into the ether as he doubles his efforts to fuck you into the mattress.

“open your eyes,” mark demands, his words oozing with a tone you’re very much not used to being addressed with. his voice is low, gravely, and deeply affected by the way your walls squeeze around him, and you find that you quite like having him like this: wrapped around your finger, barely hanging on, lost in everything pertaining to you. the sentiment is definitely shared, because as you force your eyes open, you feel your features pinch the way they do when you’re trying not to cry. it’s nothing bad– far from it, actually. it’s just that mark is fucking you so good that you feel like you’re losing your mind, and the pleasure is so mindboggling that it makes you wanna sob. 

“there y’go, baby,” mark sighs, “just keep lookin’ at me. i wanna see your face when you cum.”

his honest admission shoots straight through you and right to your core, pussy clenching around him tightly, your clit throbbing beneath your fingers. mark moans low and long at the feeling, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows hard.

“fuck, i like when y’do that– when you like what i say and you get all tight around me. just– keep touching yourself, pretty. look at me and let it happen.”

all you can do is nod helplessly. mark ducks down to press a kiss to your cheek, fingers pressing what will definitely be bruises tomorrow morning into the skin of your hips. his cock splits you open in a mindbending way, your fingers flicking at your clit so frantically that your hand has become nothing but a blur. 

then, the bubble bursts. your orgasm hits you like a truck, your head flying back, and the muscles in your jaw and neck pulling taut. the same goes for your legs– your knees lock up and your thighs pull tight, shaking with violent tremors as you gush again, this time, around mark’s cock. you do your best to keep your eyes open as you cum, but it’s hard. from what you can see, though, mark’s mouth drops open and his eyes flash with something bright– yellow, even– as he takes in the sight of you falling apart. whatever it is, you don’t give it much thought. your brain is much too fried to be trusting everything you see right now.

“you’re a fucking dream like this,” mark mutters, his tone oozing with awe and disbelief. dutifully, he fucks you through your second orgasm– all the squirming, pulsing, and wetness that’s stained his sheets twice in one night– and holds your unfocused gaze all throughout it before he feels you coming down and abruptly pulls out. your twitching legs drop unceremoniously to the bed, and mark swings his thighs over you to settle over your chest, fingers peeling off the condom and tossing it lamely to the side. all you can see past your wet lashes and teary eyes is mark’s fist moving in an urgent blur before he cums all over your chest, the orgasm hitting him so hard that he has to grip the headboard to stabilize himself. his super strength causes it to splinter just slightly as his legs shake, so much so that he can hardly hold himself up.

his cum paints your tits in hot, thick, pearly white strands, and mark clambers up from over you to lay down on the other side of the bed. you find it unfair, the way that he’s panting and shaking much less than you, but you don’t comment. you just stare up at the ceiling, the sound of your breathing filling the air.

“i hope that was good,” mark says earnestly, rolling lazily onto his side to look at you. you take another deep, grounding breath, then turn your head to look at him. your arm comes out too weakly to swat at his chest.

“there’s no way you just asked me that when your cum is drying on my chest.”

mark stares at you for a moment, then busts out into a fit of laughter, reaching behind his head to take the pillow so he can drop it casually onto your face. you can’t help but laugh too, arms coming up to shield yourself from the pillow, and you toss it back to mark where he catches it, then tucks it back under his head. “fuck me for trying to make sure you’re okay, i guess,” he says dramatically, rolling his eyes.

you flip over onto your stomach and bunch the pillow up under your chin, careful to ignore the wet parts of your chest as you widely grin and quip back. “i just did.”

“more like the other way around. this was me fucking you. into the mattress, might i add.” mark grins mischievously and reaches out to place his hand on your lower back, smoothing over your ass before dipping between your legs to find your folds. he trails his fingers up and down your wet and puffy slit, tongue darting out to wet his lips when he feels you shiver in reply. “but we can go again with you on top if you wanna fuck me. not like i’d ever say no to that. plus, it’d answer one of my questions.”

you’re part your lips to reply, but the sound of feet padding up the stairs, partnered with a soft call of mark’s name, makes you both freeze exactly where you’re at. you look at each other in panic, then scramble to get rid of the proof of what you two just did. mark leaps off the bed and onto his feet with impressive athleticism, tossing you your discarded copy of seance dog that you catch effortlessly with one hand. you tug your t-shirt down over your chest, ignoring the fact that there’s still cum on it you’ve hardly wiped off, and he busies himself with pulling his pants back up and slipping his t-shirt on. the fact that it’s still damp around the collar doesn’t matter– not when there’s much more incriminating evidence like his used condom on the bed, alongside the wrapper and the new one he was about to use on you again ten seconds ago.

you barely manage to get under the covers to hide your lower half by the time debbie opens the door, your shorts haphazardly kicked under the bed, and your panties in mark’s pocket. you double-check to make sure your comic isn’t upside down and open it to a random page, holding it as inconspicuously as possible, right in front of your face. mark’s hands are stuffed into his pants, the condoms and the wrapper fisted tightly in his hands.

“hey, you two,” debbie says sweetly, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you. you swear, even if you two didn’t look suspicious as hell, debbie would still be looking at you two like she knows you did something wrong. “just came to let you know that dinner is ready. and that you two shouldn’t stay up too late tonight. i’m driving you two back to campus early, so i can get to work on time.”

mark smiles tightly. “okay, mom, thanks,” he says, pulling a hand out of his pocket to wave at her goodbye. debbie eyes him amusedly, taking in both of your disheveled appearances one more time before nodding and moving to close the door.

“oh, and mark? it’s been a long time coming, so i don’t mind if you two are having sex, as long as it’s safe and i don’t have to worry about becoming a grandma.”

the color drains from both of your faces, but debbie only laughs, a smile as sweet as her son’s spreading across her face. “but next time, if you’re gonna try and hide it, make sure the panties are tucked all the way into your pocket. i’m not judging what you’re into, but it’s kind of a dead giveaway when blue lace is halfway hanging out of your sweatpants.”

# — navigation

[cosmictheo]

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 & 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 | hwang in-ho

( gif credits to @lalaray-457-canon )

—summary: between the chaos of the rebellion, in-ho finally reveals who he really is and tests you to see whether you are ready to take him exactly as he is, in all his glory and power. —pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader —word count: 5k (wow) —warnings: +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, some porn with some plot, fingering, power dynamics, dom in-ho!!!, body worship, praise kink, obsessive & possessive behavior, straight up manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader as usual, he wants that cookie so bad, use of guns, gunshots, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ✶ part one ── part two

Everything was pure chaos. You could hear gunshots, screams, rushing footsteps, grunts of pain, the sickening sound of the bullet piercing flesh as you walked through the brightly colored corridors of the horrific, bloody place, a place that had turned into a war zone in the last thirty minutes. 

Gi-hun had decided to rebel against the guards, creating an effective plan that had worked, as unbelievable as it seemed. Other players supported him in his idea, having his back through the war zone and basically just shooting everyone who didn't have a player number on their clothing.

In-ho guided you with assured steps, holding your hand tightly, stepping in front of you to shield you at all costs, and that if any of his guards were stupid enough to shoot in your direction, then he might as well take the bullet for you.

You didn't quite understand the reason why In-ho had separated from Gi-hun and the main group, nor did you understand the way his face had somehow suddenly morphed, turning authoritative and somber. Sure, he had said he knew a way to go around the pack of guards that blocked them from getting through to the main control room of the game's higher-ups, but how could he possibly know that? You had been by his side the whole time and never really had the spare moment to study and memorize the maze-like passageways, they all looked pretty much the same.

You had a theory, but you didn't really even want to consider it, it was wild, totally insane. Only someone who worked there would know precisely which way to go and which corner to turn.

There wasn't enough time for you to stop and demand some explanation from him either, so you just followed him around like a lost little puppy, strolling through the endless corridors of the place, stepping up some stairs until you reached an area that seemed absolutely off-limits for someone like you to trespass.

“In-ho?” you tried to call his name, walking up some more stairs, your fingers entwined between his, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

But he didn't stop, turning yet another corner, until you reached what looked like an elevator.

“Mhm? I'm here, don't separate from me, yeah?” he replied without paying too much attention to you, he didn't have to actually glance at you to know that you were scared, full of uncertainty and hesitation.

“Where are we?” you tried to ask once you two stopped in front of the elevator, you turn your head to look at him, eyes big and puzzled, “We can't leave the others...”

He finally drags his attention to you and his expression instantly softens, pulling your hand up with his to press soothing tiny kisses on your knuckles, restraining the urge to crack a smirk at the sight of your pretty face all scared and anxious. He could already feel himself harden in his pants from seeing your lips curl into a small pout.

“They'll be fine, nothing will happen to them”

The loud beep of the elevator pierces the tense silence and it almost makes you jolt, pulling your gaze up to the reddish light flashing on in front of you once the doors open. The gunshots can now be heard far off in the distance.

In-ho begins to step into it, but when he feels your hand pull his, he spins to look back at you, finding you still stood in the same spot, your arm straightened, fingers grasping his, and you look up at him with conflicted eyes, pleading for his mercy. 

Quite literally, you stand firm on your spot, but at the same time, you hold his hand tightly and longingly.

“I need you to be safe, angel,” he began to tell you, trying to convince you, to follow him, to stay by his side, just as you had been doing so far, why would you stop now? “You are not safe here, with all those savages on the loose with guns, they are dangerous”

His expression darkens with revulsion, spitting out the words as if they were poison. You assumed he was referring to the guards...

“But my friends...” you mumbled, turning your head to look back, listening to the gunshots in the distance, beyond the long corridors, as if they somehow were somewhere else already, far away from you, an unreachable place.

In-ho placed his other hand on your chin, leaning closer to you and making you face him again, his thumb brushed the outline of your lower lip.

“Friends?” he grumbled the word with irony rolling off his tongue, his warm breath rasped against your mouth, his eyes gazed into yours with genuine hurt, he looked utterly disappointed by your words, “I'm the only one who cares about you here.”

Your lips half-opened as you held eye contact, scarcely whispering, as if someone else could hear you, “I know, but—”

“You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved,” his voice uttered your name like something familiar, something he longed for, he craved, “Are you really willing to die for them? People who wouldn't give a penny for you? They are killing each other for money, not for friends, not for love. They are here for the money and they don't need you. You know it, come on, you're a smart girl,” he lifted his eyebrows, his other hand dropping yours and climbing up through your body to cup your cheek, forcing you to look at him, not wanting you to avert your gaze from him, “Would you die for them?”

You shook your head lightly, bearing in mind the weight of his words and absolutely locked in the darkness of his eyes, absorbing you in, “No”

He smiled, pleased by your answer and he kissed your lips once to praise you, his tongue lightly skimming the edge of your pouted lips, “Then, would you live for me?”

What he was telling you was crystal clear, it had a special significance, a special complicity, an intimacy there was between you.

To die for someone was not as meaningful as to live for them, to make them the purpose of life, to know what they were, what they had in their heart and beyond, and to love them anyway, to stay by their side, to be loyal to them and choose them above all else.

“Yes,” you breathed out before kissing him so passionately, looping your arms around his neck and just before you could jump his bones, In-ho stopped you, reluctantly detaching himself from you, his hands gripping the curve of your waist and squeezing you against his body, his forehead pressed onto yours for a few seconds, recomposing himself. 

“That's my girl,” he gently kissed the corner of your mouth before tugging your hands and leading you with him into the elevator, at last, “Let's put all this behind us, hm? We have to stop them, otherwise no one else will.”

But you wanted him, somehow, you pushed all the killing and the blood behind and then suddenly, it was all him, the way he was gazing at you, how his hand went wrapped around your waist, hand sliding down to your ass to pat it twice, almost in a reprimanding way as he felt your soft lips attach on his neck when the elevator started to go up. You had to wonder how it was possible that the mechanism could carry the full weight of your craving and lust.

“Baby,” In-ho snapped in a disapproving voice, yet he lifted his chin, giving you more free access to his neck, his eyes closing as he felt your tongue sweep across his throat. He patted your ass once more, a little harder now, fingers clutching your hip tightly, “behave”

His hoarse, authoritative voice took you by surprise, causing you to inch away from him, looking up at him with big eyes darkened with desire, your hand lingering on his shoulder, squeezing it with eagerness.

“There's a slaughter going on out there and all you can think about is my cock slamming inside your little pussy, hm?” his gruff voice pronouncing those nasty words made your pussy twitch, your body aching for him by carnal instinct, “My girl's a filthy little slut...”

Before you could respond, the elevator doors swung open and the digital panel on the side indicated that you had gone up two floors, signaling that the place was much, much bigger than you thought.

In-ho pulled your hand gently, taking you with him through a dark hallway, until you entered a main room of an seemingly apartment, spacious and elegant. The sofas were of velvet, the walls black as midnight, a large screen hung on one of the walls, the lights hung in fancy chandeliers above your head. It resembled a suite of the most luxurious hotel.

He stepped closer to you from behind, predatory-like, sliding his veiny hands around your waist and pushing you softly to pace forward, his wet lips latching onto your shoulder and neck, making you sigh tremblingly.

“Do you like it?” he asked in a whisper, fingers fidgeting with the waistband of your tracksuit pants, "I had it fixed and cleaned for you"

“What is this place?” you asked him back, your eyes narrowed as you took cautious steps, your legs wobbly from all the goosebumps that ran through you from head to toe with every kiss he pressed against the conjunction of your neck and shoulder, unleashing a rush of emotions in the pit of your stomach.

His long, slender fingers caressed your lower tummy with affection and to give you a convincing answer, he kissed your skin one more time, before detaching his mouth from you, just barely,  “Your home, princess. Isn't it what you always wished for?” a dark smile tugged at his lips, his fingertips slipping under your shirt, triggering goosebumps along your skin beneath his touches on your stomach. “A spacious and expensive place, that's what you said when they asked you what you wanted to do with the prize.”

“It's beautiful,” you awed, raising your big, marveling eyes to the gorgeous crystal chandelier just above you.

“A pretty home for a pretty girl,” he rustled against the side of your neck, too intertained in kissing and marking it with possession, “It's all yours— I'm all yours.”

A sheepish smile stretched wide on your lips as you felt In-ho pushing you with his body once more, urging you to walk towards the center of the suite, descending down two stairs until you stood in front of a set of sofas, with a dark glass table in the center, on it laid two glasses and a bottle of Whiskey.

Why would you ever need to care about anything else, anyone else? When you had him, this precious place and his heart, body and soul to offer. All for you.

You turned on your heels to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close to you. Before he could even gasp for breath, you kissed him, supplying him with your breath, your oxygen. And what else did he really need to live?

His fingers went up to his neck, sneaking between your bodies so that he could begin to unzip the jacket of his tracksuit, pulling away from you just a little and hissing as he felt your fingers tugging at his hair.

In-ho nibbled on your lower lip as he ended the long, passionate kiss, making you wail against his mouth, “We've got to be quick, baby, I've got to take care of the mess out there. They are waiting for my command.”

He was the leader, of course, how had you even missed that little detail?

And of course he was, it all made sense now.

The thought of him in the dark suit, with a black mask, giving commands and having the entire place running under his authority made your whole body flush, core aching for him, for some friction, anything he might give you.

You kissed him again, momentarily thinking that with every kiss someone was dead, a bullet was shot and blood sprayed. But the blaze inside you, the heat pumping through your veins and the way your pussy was weeping for him didn't let you have more than one single thought in your head that wasn't him. 

Your head was possessed, your body submitted to him and your heart clutched in his hands. And all his undivided attention was on you, no matter that his place was under threat or that his guards were out there fighting, dying for him, no, all he could possibly afford to focus on was you.

So, soon In-ho had ripped your clothes off you, leaving you exposed, on full display for his dark, deep gaze to consume every inch in. Your arched back pressed against the velvety smooth back of the black sofa, his body right in front of you, like a starving predator. He was drinking a sip of Whiskey from his glass, never taking his eyes off you.

You blushed under his hungry gaze and motioned to close your knees, squeeze them together, but he was quick to lean down and rest a hand on one of them, caressing it affectionately and clicking his tongue disapprovingly. 

Tch, tch, tch.

“You should have no shame, you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen,” he reassured you, setting the now empty glass back down on the glass table, letting out a shaky breath, “there isn't a moment when I'm not thinking about it, touching it, kissing it, fucking it...”

You threw your head back, panting as you felt In-ho's mouth kiss your ankle, caressing your leg with his fingers as he pulled it gently, forcing you to open them, with him standing right in between them. The gates of heaven unlocking for him.

“So fucking pretty”

He kept whispering over and over again, staring at your body in awe, as if you were the most beautiful work of art ever to be exhibited.

“My pretty baby”

He praised you and praised you and praised you, pressing kisses to your legs, your knees, your thighs, tongue flicking across little scars that cut into your skin, most likely as a consequence of one of the games. 

“There she is... so pretty— shit”

He drunkenly muttered over your cunt, gazing at it throbbing and clenching around nothing. 

Your scent was intoxicating and overpowering. He felt so weak and insignificant in front of the greatness of your body, the warmth it gave him, the beauty of your skin, your curves, welcoming him inside, calling for his name.

“In-ho” you breathed out, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes, feeling the way your wetness trickled down between your legs, dripping to the surface of the couch. 

You were soaked, drenched, so sensitive to his touch and every little friction. And he had barely touched you.  

“Mhm,” he hummed at your call, reaching with his path of sloppy kisses and wet licks all the way up your inner thigh. Your whole body buzzed as you felt his tongue swipe up your slick folds, getting a wet squelchy sound and he laughed huskily, looking up at you, “You're soaking wet,” he marveled, pressing the tip of his finger against your pussy, his thumb teasing just right your aching, swollen clit, instantly getting a whimper out of you.

The finger slid inside so smoothly and shamelessly that it had him choking back a groan.

“Could you take all of me right now?” his voice cracked, words crawling up his throat like groans, so hoarse and deep that it sent vibrations through your center throughout your body, “I don't think we have much time to play”

You were nodding your head the second he finished speaking, your throat making a whining noise that made him crack a smile as he gently placed a kiss once on your cunt, fingertips tenderly caressing the inside of your thigh.

“Yeah? Can you take me?” In-ho asked you once again, in a quiet tone now, your name uttered slowly through his lips, like a longing, a craving, a religion. His eyes softened completely once they met yours again, his fingertips tapped seductively the sensitive, flushed skin of your thigh, “Talk to me, baby”

In-ho was well aware of the hold he had over you, he had the ultimate power and you were shamelessly crawling all over him, profiting from the fact that you would do whatever he asked. Live, lie, kill....

“Y-yes!” you instantly replied between babbles and sniffles, your hands reaching for him, revealing the deep, raw desperation that was making your body tremble, “Please, In-ho, sir, p-please—”

In-ho's pupils dilated so much that all of his orbs looked pitch-black as he lifted and leaned over you to press a kiss on your lips, “You don't need to convince me, princess. If you want it, you got it”

He swiftly removed his whitish shirt, now ruined and stained with someone else's blood, maybe from one of his guards, it didn't matter, what really mattered was the way his skin glowed under the dim golden light and how his chest broadened with every breath he inhaled, your lips parted as you saw how toned and hardened his abdomen was. He looked... exquisite, glorious and majestic standing before you, ready to devour you.

When he pulled down his pants and boxers, your mouth watered with drool and your eyes widened in wonder at the sight of his size. He was big, bigger than you expected, perhaps. His length was impressive and his girth was just perfect, a bulging vein traced from the base to the engorged, leaking head, and you could see it throbbing. 

You felt your mouth watering, starving, but when you reached out your hand to his cock, In-ho backed away from your eager touch, making you look up at him with a pouty face, mumbling words like a spoiled brat.

“I want to—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed in an all too calm tone, leaning over the couch towards you to place a kiss on your sweaty forehead, positioning himself between your legs, one hand holding the length of his cock and the other reassuringly caressing your hip, “you got me right here, can't you feel me?” his hand travelled up your body to delicately stroke a strand of hair off your pretty, blushing face. “Aw, don't be so eager. I think I've spoiled you too much, hm?”

You gulped hard as he lined up his plump tip against your wet entrance, your whole body buzzing as you felt him press against your eager little hole, prepared to take whatever he gave it. But it was unlikely that you could be prepared to take something that big.

In-ho sighed shudderingly as well, just barely easing his head inside you, stretching you so, so good and slowly began to push his way through your warm, spongy walls. You gasped several little whimpers, looking up at the ceiling, as if somehow that would help you stop feeling the stabbing pain that spread inside you with every inch he pushed his length in.

“You have to loosen up for me, angel— hah—” he croaked out between gasps, squeezing his eyes shut for a few long seconds, letting himself be enveloped in the overwhelming hot, tight sensation that was your pussy clenching him, “hm— you have to let me in— fuck, you're so tight—”

In-ho pulled out, hissing between his teeth, lazily gripping his shaft, the tip running up and down your slit, gathering some of your wetness.

At your whining and complaining, he pressed again into your center, staring in awe as your hole struggled to swallow his plump head, stretching out your pussy so much.

He stopped right there, halting his hips, his head hardly inside you, your pussy fluttering and drawing him deeper inside, giving you a few moments to get used to his size. Your hands went to land on his forearms on either side of your hips, squeezing him desperately. 

As he tightened his grip on your hips, impeding you from wiggling away from him, In-ho hovered over you, catching your lips with his to muffle your whimpers with his own throat, thrusting achingly slow his hips and sinking inch by inch inside you.

“In-ho” you moaned his name, your nails digging into his skin on his arms, feeling so full, helplessly overwhelmed under him. Everything was him, everywhere around you, “Please—”

Then he kissed your cheekbones, wiping away the tears that escaped your eyes with his lips, bathing your skin with his drool instead, “Don't think, baby, you don't have to think about anything,” he murmured against your mouth, “just take me, yeah? Let me in”

The response he received was blubbering of unintelligible words and whimpers from you, blending in with the squelching sounds of your pussy stretching out for his cock. And that was music to his ears, the most delightful melody.

“Don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, I'll take care of it all” he promised you in a  gentle whisper and he is so tender, affectionately caressing the flesh on the side of your upper thigh just before giving it a quick spank, feeling the soft flesh jiggle under the palm of his hand, “Just like that”

He was so tender, giving you two minutes to adjust to his size before ramming the entire remaining length of his cock inside you, the bulbous head of his cock digging it's own way within your velvety walls and reaching so deep inside you that all the air was knocked out of your lungs. All too soon, you were a bawling, moaning mess, so loud and whiny for him.

“There you go, so good, so tight— fuck” In-ho dropped his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, drunkenly babbling words, intoxicated by the feeling of you everywhere, “Just fucking made for me, hm?”

“'Tis all—” you hiccupped, back arching impossibly for him, gazing up at him with adulatory, pleasure-darkened eyes, pounding you into heaven with each luscious thrust of his hips against yours, the bumping sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing against the walls. Slap, slap, slap. “All for you, In-ho— oh!”

You struggled to even use your brain to conjugate proper phrases, occasionally slurring nonsense words.

Your ass and thighs jiggled with each intense thrust, his flesh slamming against yours, the very noise itself sounding pronographic, sloppy and filthy. You could feel your lower body begin to slide down across the velvety surface of the sofa, your skin wet and slippery from all the mixture of body fluids.

So, he scooped you up in his arms, manhandling you back in your position under him on the couch as easily as if he was swinging a feather around, he even made your head bump against the back of the sofa with a particularly harsh thrust, his cock already recognizing it's own shape carved inside you. 

His dark gaze dropped to your stomach, noticing the sway of himself under your soft, sweaty skin, his eyes following the motion of the bulge adoringly. 

In-ho pulled one of his hands up from your waist, beginning to slide it across your skin on your lower stomach and he swoon as he heard your blubbering whimpers at the pressure of his palm on your tummy, both of you sensing the press.

“In-ho, G-god, I can't— ngh—” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back and closing them tight, feeling your insides tightening up. “You're so— hah— deep”

“I'm right here” he awed in a quivering, raw adoring whisper, feeling his own cock twitch inside you under the palm of his hand. “Does it feel good, baby?”

You immediately nodded your head, taking in the way his eyes roamed upward across your bulging stomach, past the way your tits jiggled with the power of his own motions.

“I bet it does”

You promptly reopened your eyes and he grunted when the static noise of the radio perched on the crystal table at the couch's side erupted in the sultry room, snapping him out of the mindspace of worshipping your body, just as his lips had parted to suck on one of your tits.

You both swung your heads towards the radio, but In-ho— so ruthless, did not stop his fierce thrusts against your hips, his veiny hands contouring your waist, marking your skin.

“Young-il?” the voice of Gi-hun burst into the room, calling your name more times than In-ho would liked, “Where are you? You're attacking already?”

In-ho just smirked, stretching out and reaching for the small radio over the table, leaving you a whimpering mess as you felt his cock dragging along between your gummy walls.

“Answer him,” he then commanded in a grunt, delivering you a particularly powerful thrust that made you see stars, on his hand he held the radio, right above your face.

“W-what?” you hiccupped, eyes flooding with hot tears, out of pleasure, embarrassment, by the whirlwind of thrills that was shaking your body into submission to his.

In-ho cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him, offering no truce with his savage thrusts, the plump head of his cock tapping your cervix, grinding into that special spongy spot that drove you closer to your climax.

“Tell him you're sorry,” he bent toward you, swiping his tongue along your cheekbone, mopping up a big tear that had slipped from your pretty eyes, “tell him the Frontman got you.”

With the very last of your remaining strength and control of your brain, you actually succeeded in formulating the words he wanted you to say, just as he pressed the voice transmitter button on the little radio.

“I'm sorry, Gi-hun” you blubbered out in between whimpers, and In-ho flashed a dark smile, dipping his head down to start kissing your neck sloppily, lips sucking at your skin until they left dark imprints, “he—”

“What happened?” Gi-hun asked worriedly from the other side, his voice came out desperate as he called your name, and you almost felt sorry for him, but In-ho's cock twitching inside you knocked all thoughts of heartache from you, making you bite your lower lip to choke back a hoarse moan.

He just felt so good, how could you think of anything other than his dick inside you?

“He got me” 

“Who? Where are you? Tell me where you are—” he asked frantically, his voice full of desperation and concern.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt In-ho's mouth latch onto your nipple, sucking and flicking it with his tongue, his unoccupied hand landing on your other jiggling tit, squeezing just right.

“This fucking body....” he hummed more to himself than to you against the skin of your breasts, dampening it with his spit, “So pretty, so tight, all for me... I got you, I got you always”

“The Frontman, he got me— sorry, Gi-hun” you managed to utter, voice weepy, at least that part would be believable to player 456.

Then In-ho smiled darkly and brought the radio closer to his mouth, his warm breath brushing against your nipple, still looking at you as he spoke, his voice becoming gruff and almost unrecognizable, “You don't have to worry about her anymore, Gi-hun.”

“You sick bastard—”

In-ho turned off the radio, throwing it away, shattering a thousand pieces against the ground. And now, all his attention turned back to you.

Gi-hun's desperate words and suffering appeared to do the necessary effect on him to get his cock twitching inside you again, having you sniffling under him.

“Shh... baby, you're doing so good. You're my good girl, my favorite girl— mhm— yes you are,” he cooed, raising his hand and stroking your hair delicately, his other hand squeezed your hip, moving across your skin until he reached your lower stomach, applying a little pressure over your tummy to make you both gasp as you felt the push of his hand, “Now cum with me, yeah? I know you can do it, I know you can, you're my good girl— shit”

In-ho whimpered against your mouth, his fingers creeping down to your crotch in between your sticky bodies, stroking your swollen, throbbing clit just right and hardly ten seconds later, feelinf your walls constrict around him and seconds later, you both began cumming, riding your highs to reach climax.

He was pumping you with all he had to give, filling you with hot and heavy spurts of cum, making you feel so stuffed that the fluid begins to leak out your abused pussy, spilling down between the tangled mess of your legs onto the couch.

A minute long lingered in your post-orgasm ecstasy, slumping your head against the couch, struggling to catch your breath, every limb shuddering still by jolts of electricity racing through every vein, bone, and muscle. You felt yourself floating in the sky and didn't even feel how In-ho had been propped up against you, trying to level his breathing tucked tightly against your neck. It wasn't until he had gently kissed your skin and straightened up, suddenly pulling his softening cock out of you, very slowly and carefully, you snapped back to reality and down to the ground.

The "pop!" filthy sound and the sensation of his cum dripping down your thighs made you blush, feeling his eyes gawking at the way your gaping pussy was struggling to keep all his cum inside, so greedily.

He then scooped you up in his strong arms and carried you to a bedroom, whispering praises and soft words against your ear, all the way until he delicately laid you down on the bed.

Your hand sought his, halting his motion to move away from you, and he smiled softly, noting how you fought against the sudden, enormous exhaustion that had come over you like a flooding wave.

“I have to take care of the problem, my love, it won't take long, okay? When you wake up again I'll be by your side” he murmured, leaning down so he could kiss the knuckles of your hand, fingers affectionately caressing your smooth skin.

“Don't kill them,” your request made him look at you with a hint of disappointment, letting him know you still felt sorry for the players, how could you not? You were just so good, “They don't know what they're doing.”

But the sweet smile on In-ho's lips didn't even tremble, at your request, your demand, “You don't have to worry about them anymore. They're nothing,” then he moved closer, and kissed your forehead, ”And you're everything. You don't have to worry about nothing, right?”

“Right,” you replied, so naturally, even in that dozy, half-asleep state, still, your loyalty and trust was with him, a fond smile curved across your lips as you lay your head back against the fluffy pillows, drifting off to sleep as you felt his fingers tenderly caress the side of your face, “Thank you, In-ho.”

“Everything for my favorite girl” he promised against your skin.

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[goosewriting]

I just read all your Joaquin stuff!! You write him perfect so great job! I love it so much ! If possible could you do either your both ditching eachother up after a fight (supper fluffy) or something along the lines of reader not being able to breath (either health issue or injury ) and then having to deal with that. No pressure if you don’t have time !!

(Not) Doctor's Orders

summary: Joaquín and reader tend to each other’s wounds after a mission.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: (18+) mention of blood, description of injuries and treating them, kisses, innuendos

word count: 1.7k

A/N: i’m gonna assume instead of “ditching” you meant “stitching” each other up? why, you’ve read my mind dear anon, for that trope is one of my absolute most favouritetest<33 the “super fluffy” aspect kinda got away from me tho and it ended up way more suggestive than intended :’v hope you’ll like it nonetheless!

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

After a mission abroad, you’re sent to a safe house nearby instead of flying back to HQ immediately. All in all, the mission went great, except that you got shot. The bullet didn’t fully hit you, luckily; it just nicked your leg. But it still took off a chunk of flesh, and it hurts.

Your arm is around Joaquín’s shoulders as he holds up part of your weight, helping you walk. When you make it through the door, you let your bags fall in the hallway; you’ll take care of it later. The house is pretty small, and you enter into the main room, serving as both the living and dining area, with a kitchenette on the other side. He crosses the space and brings you to the bathroom, setting you down on the edge of the bathtub.

Joaquín takes out the first aid kit from underneath the sink and you both shrug off your jackets and the bulletproof vests you were wearing underneath, tossing everything to the side. You inspect your leg and hiss when you brush over the wound, going straight across your mid-thigh. He kneels down before you, his hands hovering over it, but he stops, looking up at you.

“Can I take it off?” he asks, the slightest tremble in his voice. Heat spreads on your face, and you mentally curse at yourself for the reaction. You’ve been crushing on Joaquín for a while, and you’re pretty sure he feels the same. This is really not how you pictured how undressing for the first time would go. When you don’t immediately respond, he’s quick to add, “Sorry, no need. I’ll just cut them open.”

But you stop him from getting the scissors from the kit by placing your hand on his, and his movements halt instantly, his eyes shooting up to meet yours.

“No, don’t,” you say, quickly retracting your hand. Another wave of heat prickling on your cheeks. “I– I don’t have a change of pants.”

Lifting yourself off the tub with a hiss, you pull down the garment to your knees, and he helps you get them off completely. There’s a slight dust of dark pink on his cheeks and ears, but he tries to mask it with concern and focus at the sight of your wound. Without wasting a second, he starts cleaning it. When he applies the disinfecting spray, you take a sharp breath through your teeth, your whole body tensing at the sting.

“Sorry,” Joaquín mutters, taking out the sterile needle and thread from its packaging. “Ready?”

You nod, and when he pierces through your skin, the pain makes you slump forward slightly, holding onto his shoulder opposite to the stitching hand for support. He works with his brows slightly furrowed, trying his best to get this done as quickly and painless as possible. To distract yourself from the pain, you study his face, the bridge of his nose, the moles sprinkled on his cheeks and chin, the deep chocolate swirls in his eyes. It dawns on you that Joaquín is kneeling in front of you between your legs, and the thoughts that follow make you quickly look away from him, focusing on the generic brand shampoo bottle in the corner instead.

“Done,” he finally announces, cutting the last bit of thread after tying a knot. After putting one final plaster over it, he straightens up a bit, almost rising to your eye level. You let go of his shoulder, intending to hold onto the edge of the tub. However, he gently takes your arm in his hands, inspecting it further for injuries. Then he does the same to your other arm. Finally, he looks around you to check your back. Once he’s satisfied that there are no other big wounds that need his attention, he grabs a clean rag and fully stands up to turn toward the sink. After drenching it and wringing out the extra water, he turns back to you, gingerly holding your face in his hands as he looks down at you, and you can’t help but melt at his touch. He’s handling you with such care, it makes your whole body buzz with warmth, your heart incessantly thumping against your ribcage. 

You close your eyes so he can wipe over them, getting rid of all the dust and dried blood from the little cut on your forehead. Over that one he places a small band-aid, then his hand rests under your chin again to make you look up.

“There, that’s better,” he says with a small smile, and his voice is so soft, so intimate, you fear you might pass out right there. When he drops his hand, you immediately miss his touch.

“What about you?” you ask.

Joaquín looks down at himself, placing his hands on different parts of his body as if to check if they hurt.

“I got out unscathed, I think,” he says, and you rise a brow at him. You lean forward slightly and snake your arm around him to softly poke him in the back, and he flinches with an ‘ouch!’

“Unscathed, my ass. You got shot,” you remark, remembering all too well how a stray bullet had found him. Luckily, you were both wearing your bulletproof gear. 

Your eyes widen slightly as Joaquín grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and taking it off. You try no to stare too obviously. Really, you try. But then he turns around to look at himself in the mirror, and you spot the dark bruise already forming on his back where the bullet had impacted. Before you can help yourself, your hand reaches out, your fingertips softly tracing over the purplish skin. His eyes meet yours through the mirror.

“Well, my professional medical diagnosis is that you don’t need stitches for that,” you say, and he huffs a laugh. You’re not sure what it is, if it’s the twinkle in Joaquín’s eyes or the amount of exposed skin or the fact that either of you could have died today, but a burst of confidence bubbles up within you, and you intend to take advantage of it. “But you know what they say the best medicine is,” you add as you lean forward, then place a soft kiss to the bruise. You hear him gasp in surprise.

As you lean back again, you don’t dare look at him. Surely by now your whole face is on fire. Your whole body certainly is. In fact, you almost can’t feel your wounds or the ache in your bones, your whole focus on the man in front of you.

For a moment, Joaquín doesn’t move, and the warmth you felt earlier quickly dissipates, replaced by a cold panic that spreads from your gut into your limbs. You’ve overstepped. You’ve ruined everything. He never liked you back, it was all in your head. Your mind reels as you try to find the words to apologise for your actions. But before you can think of anything, he slowly comes back down to his knees in front of you, the deepest and most adorable blush you’ve seen on him yet adorning his cheeks and ears, all the way down to his collarbones. 

“Best medicine, you say,” he repeats your words, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes shyly find their way to yours. “I think I could use some more of that.”

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears at his words. The implication sends a flutter through your gut that spreads into your whole body.

“Where?” you ask, breathless.

Joaquín points to a cut on his shoulder, his eyes never leaving yours, and you lean in again, your lips ghosting over the spot. Then he points to a scratch on his arm, and you place another featherlight kiss. This goes on for a while, where he wordlessly points to different parts of his body, his chest, his arms, and you kiss it better.

Then one of his hands finds your good leg, staying on the outside of your thigh, and you think you’ll combust on the spot. His skin coming in contact with yours sends a series of sparks through your nerves and up your spine, eliciting a small gasp from you. 

“Here,” he whispers, his free hand pointing to his throat, right next to his Adam’s apple. Your own hands come up, a bit shaky, and hold his face as you leave a trail of small kisses from where he pointed, all the way up to his cheekbone. He lets out a shuddering breath, looking at you through half lidded eyes when you pull back. 

“Anywhere else?” you ask, but you can’t even finish your question as his lips finally come crashing onto yours, and once the initial surprise is gone, you tilt your head and sigh into the kiss. His lips move with urgency against yours, the hand on your leg sliding to your waist and pulling you to him, the other cradling the back of your head. You reciprocate as best as you can, given you feel like you’ve entirely lost control of your body. When he breaks for air, both of you panting heavily, it's his turn to leave a trail of kisses on your throat.

“The good thing about this medicine,” you say between breaths as he leaves wet kisses on your pulse point. “Is that it works both ways.”

Joaquín snorts, stopping what he’s doing to pull back and look up at you.

“Yeah?” he says, slightly out of breath, then his gaze darkens a bit. “I can think of another… treatment, too. To make you feel better.” Your heart skips several beats at his words.

“Well, it might be a while until we can see a proper doctor,” you say as you softly rake your fingers through his hair, and he hums at the sensation. “Might as well take every precaution.”

Joaquín gets back up to his feet, carefully picking you up under your legs and around your back from the tub, and you hold onto his shoulders. As he brings you to the bedroom, you don’t even look back at the mess you left in the bathroom, completely lost in his eyes. You’ll take care of that tomorrow.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie @magikdarkholme @tsunchani @Chuchu8923 @bitchy-bi-trash @guynamedaurel @crumbledcastle28 @sarahskywalker-amidala

[hanginginthevoid]

Curiosity Killed the Cat, but Satisfaction Brought it Back

pairing: bob reynolds x reader

summary: almost every customer you see is the same. when you finally meet someone that’s different, you can’t help but let your curiosity pique. you shouldn’t have though, new doesn't always mean good or better. sometimes new can ruin you.

a/n: HI!!! I love the idea of character x powerless!reader almost as much as i love the idea of reader who can take care of themselves. SLOWBURN!!!!! I also wrote like 10 pages straight of this before i slowed down and remember how much i HATE writing endings… 

warnings: reader gets screamed at, probably ooc bob, lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 8.2k

---

Your life would be considered mundane. You spend most of your time studying, if you weren’t studying you were at work. But to be honest, you were studying at work too. Sure you still go out with your friends, but you’re not paying thousands upon thousands of dollars to not get this degree. 

The bookshop that you work at is cute. The brick walls painted sage green, the bookshelves that lined the walls, along with the display tables, were a nice dark mahogany. Small bouquets of different flowers were painted around the shop, like easter eggs for customers to spot.

If the customers actually look at the design choices, you’d never know. Most of the customers that you saw were business or finance bro’s and ladies trying to assert themselves in their corporate jobs. 

They’d pick up some ‘life-changing’ book, and you’d never see them again. The first floor of the shop was entirely dedicated to non-fiction because of this. Gotta make it easily accessible for the clients.

You prefer fiction, and honestly, it’s a better vibe having to go upstairs to find some whimsy than just staying at the same level. Every once in a while you’ll see someone venturing up there, maybe just to take a few pictures, maybe to actually buy something. Not nearly as often as you’d like though.

Most of the time you keep your head down, busy jotting down notes or highlighting your textbook. You greet customers when they come in, help them find the book they’re looking for if need be, and give them a polite smile while asking about their day as you check them out. But their faces blur together, and none of their responses stick with you for more than a few minutes.

Today was different though.

Today two men walked into the shop. One with shaggy brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a wobbly smile like he’s worried about something, and the other with blonde hair, a beard, and eyes so icy blue you could mistake them for gray. 

The one with brown hair takes to the shelves after returning your greeting. He scans them for a little bit, checking around the displays as well before coming up to you at the checkout counter.

“Hi.. again.” You look up, but he’s avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but you, “Do you guys have any books not based not on real stuff?”

You nod along with him, “Yeah, of course. All of our upstairs section is for fiction books.”

“O-oh. Thank you.” And he’s moving away, looking like he’s sizing up the stairs ahead of him.

You feel a little bad for the guy - the guy he’s with is just standing at the door, and he seems unsure about everything. 

Your better judgement fails, putting a tab in your textbook so you don’t lose your place, “Are you looking for anything specific?” 

“Ummm.. Not really? Just - anything fictional.” He’s starting up the stairs before he remembers something and continues his response, “And a series. Something with a lot of books.”

You smile at him, a general customer service smile but it’s softened by the want to be kind to this man, “The Maze Runner is pretty good. Five books in the series.”

With a final nod, he’s up the stairs and it’s just you and the blonde man. You think about asking if you could help him with anything, but any normal person would have already looked around if they wanted to.

They both look familiar. Not excessively, but similar to someone who you would see walking around campus but never had classes with. Like the friend of one of your friends, who only shows up once in a blue moon. 

You can’t place them before the brown haired man comes back with a book. 

He hands, not places down, hands, you a book. Upon glancing at it, you see he picked your recommendation. 

“I think you’ll like it, I was really into it when I read it for the first time.” You scan the book, placing it with the front cover down onto the simple brown packing paper you picked out this morning.

“I think so too. You would be the expert after all,” He huffs out a laugh at the end of his sentence, handing you a credit card to make his payment. 

You smile along with him, sealing the book with a ‘Thank you!’ sticker. After the card clears you hand it back to him, along with the book, and send him off with the hope that he enjoys the book.

As he turns around, he motions to his blonde counterpart, and they both head out the door. Before it shuts though, the man turns around one more time leaving you with a ‘Have a good day!’ and a warm feeling in your chest because there really are still good, kind people out there.

Unlike the normal clientele that you see, you think about this man for the rest of your shift. 

He was attractive, so you’d almost doubt that he didn’t have a girlfriend. Or maybe even a boyfriend, but there’s no way that was the blonde man. He seemed more like a bodyguard…?

He was also kind. He might not have been confident, but that didn’t take away from his other redeeming qualities. 

You think mostly about the fact that he took your recommendation. He didn’t ask for one, so it’s truly surprising that he took what you said into consideration. Paired with the fact that he spent a decent amount of time up there, seemingly pondering his options, just to come back with your recommendation still.

It’s a shame that you’ll probably never see him again. People usually don’t have the time to keep stopping by the same bookshop in this city. Assuming he’s the same as everyone else, he’ll just order the next one online and call it a day.

—

You’re almost immediately proven wrong. Just three days later, the same shaggy haired, blue eyed man walks back into the bookshop.

This time, he’s accompanied by a woman. They greet you, ask how your day is going, then venture upstairs.

You eye them more than you’d like to admit. Trying to figure out these two, the woman is clearly more invested in him than his blonde companion had been.

She's got black hair, green eyes, and an accent. Exotic. 

She stands with him as he browses, inputting her opinion, giving suggestions. Ventures off by herself for a minute before coming back with a book, you assume to recommend it.

Maybe this is the girlfriend. The one who gets to go home and call him her own. By your guesstimate, they’ve only been dating for a little while. Too many boundaries between them to be a really established, committed relationship.

Eventually, you go back to your textbook. Reducing its value every time you annotate, a highlight to show importance, and a note to explain why exactly it's important.

As you're figuring out how you want to color code this set of flashcards, someone gently clears their throat in front of you.

You look up to see the ocean eyed man. He’s smiling at you, soft like he doesn’t want to scare you off. 

“Hey, find everything alright?” You’re standing now, resting your folded arms across the counter.

He nods as he responds, “Yeah, yeah everything was findable.” 

His girlfriend wasn’t beside him anymore, instead she's perusing around the displays about ways to drastically improve your life.

When he hands you the book, you see it’s ‘The Scorch Trials’, the second book in the series you recommended. Guess they spent all that time up there just to flirt.

You scan it, placing it face down on the same brown packing paper as the last book, “Am I safe to assume that you enjoyed the first one?”

“Y-yeah, I didn’t think Alby would die like that. Y’know? He felt like the glue and then boom! He was gone.” 

It’s sweet. He’s not afraid to show his joy from the story. Accentuation his ‘boom’ with his hands, and, holding eye contact. 

“Me either. My favorite is Newt though, so I’m just happy he made it out of the maze.” You’ve sealed the book with a ‘Have a great day!’ sticker, and then you’re handing it back.

“I don’t have a favorite yet, but I’ll keep Newt in mind! He seems like a good guy.” And then his girlfriend is back at his side, ushering him out the door. He yells a ‘Have a good rest of your day!’ over his shoulder, and then they’re disappearing into the busy New York sidewalk.

You wonder if he’ll finish the second one as fast as the first one. Though, you hoped not. 

You wouldn’t be working that day and even if he had a girlfriend he was still a breath of fresh air that you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to inhale. 

Maybe you’d go find a dandelion to wish on after your shift. But then again, he’s just a man. You don’t even know his name for God’s sake. 

Yeah, no dandelion for you.

—

Sunday is the universal reset day. Least you’d think so. You bring your laundry down to your apartment building's laundry room, let it start to do its thing in the washer then head out. 

First grabbing a coffee at the cute coffee shop a couple of blocks down. You swear they make the best macchiatos. 

Then you’re on your way to the grocery store. Getting the most important things first; Greens and proteins. Then the things important to your heart like carbs and cheese, ice cream if it’s weather permitting. Then everything else, from snacks to garbage bags, to dryer sheets, to a new mascara, or maybe even some flowers. 

The trick was getting everything you needed, but not too much that it became difficult to haul home. Today was not one of the days that you got the ratio right.

Maybe you bought too many snacks, but you’ve got a hell of a lot of assignments due this week and that permits a hell of a lot of snacking.

Thankfully, you brought a nearly empty backpack with you, so you’re able to stash some groceries in there and not kill your wrists. It doesn’t help much though, by the time you make it to the elevator your fingers are throbbing and turning white from the lack of circulation.

You put away the refrigerated and frozen items before making your way down the stairs. Gotta burn your calories somehow.

After switching your laundry from the washer to the dryer, you head back upstairs. Starting in the living room you put away stray books, highlighters, pens, and papers. Straighten up the couch by fluffing the cushions, and folding the blankets before grabbing any cups or mugs that may have been left out and bringing them to the kitchen.

You go through the dishes fast, most of them being able to fit into the dishwasher. Then it's putting away the rest of the groceries, and wiping down the counters. 

The bathroom and bedroom are tidied up daily so besides changing the sheets, you forgo taking care of them. Instead vacuuming so that you can just put on a movie and fold your clothes before making dinner.

You can barely hear your phone going off from where it rests on your kitchen counter. It gets ignored though, probably just one of your parents checking in, worried because you’ve been swamped with school. You can just text them back before you start folding.

After the vacuum is shut down, and properly stored in your coat closet, you head back downstairs to retrieve your laundry. 

The basket goes between the couch and the coffee table, ensuring you have enough space to section out all your clothes. But you still have to pick a movie. Something you’ve seen before, so you won’t get distracted. Yet still something interesting, so you don’t give up on your laundry halfway through and leave it all around your apartment. 

By the time you remember your phone and the aforementioned text from your parents, you’re about thirty minutes into ‘Madagascar’. The thought of leaving it, and continuing with your progress passes through your mind. And you mull over the idea for a few minutes. But then you remember that not everyone has parents that care about them, and you push yourself off the couch to go get your phone.

When you turn it on while walking back to the couch, you notice that it wasn’t from your parents. Instead you're met with a message from Tasha, your coworker. Maybe the shop ran out of a popular book? Or a customer wanted to return a, clearly, read book again.

Opening the chat, you see that it’s neither of those. 

Tasha: Some guy came in today asking about you

What guy could come in asking about you? Would this be your chance to meet some millionaire who’d pay for your tuition. God you hoped so. At the very least please let him be hot. Well, hot is an overstatement, let him be not horrid to look at.

You’d never know if you didn’t ask though, so you type out a quick reply before sitting back on your couch, digging your hand back into the laundry basket.

Y/n: What guy?

The response is nearly instantaneous.

Tasha: GIRL

Tasha: YOU TOOK

Tasha: SO LONG

Y/n: mb, yk sunday is my reset

Y/n: left my phone on the counter while folding clothes so i didn’t lose my flow

Tasha: does NOT matter

Tasha: he was FINE

Tasha: TALL

Tasha: DARK HAIR

A tall, dark haired man was asking for you? That’s like - half the businessmen in New York. She’d need to be more specific.

Y/n: you gotta gimme sumn else

Y/n: thats like half the people who come in

Tasha: like long dark hair

Tasha: blue eyes

You start typing before you can really think about the implications. 

Y/n: did he get a maze runner book??

Tasha: yeah

Tasha: so who is he

It’s comical how Tasha thinks that he’s interested in you. It’d be nice if he was. You’d definitely accept a date with him if he ever offered. But you’re not a homewrecker. 

Y/n: just a nice dude who doesn’t treat staff like theyre garbage

Y/n: he’s got a girl tho, she came w him last time

It’s getting late, and you’ve fallen behind on your mental schedule. You’ll start dinner while you finish up your conversation, then after you eat you can finish your laundry and head to bed. 

Getting up you take out the ground beef you bought just a few hours ago. Splitting it into two portions you put one half in a ziploc bag and stuff it in your freezer before putting the other half into a pan to brown. As you’re opening a can of crushed tomatoes, your phone dings with a new message.

Tasha: idk 

Tasha: didnt seem like he did when he was describing you

You shake your head as you start adding seasonings to your beef. Also putting a pot of water to boil before wiping your hands to respond.

Y/n: hes just nice

Y/n: dont read into it

Y/n: see u tuesday girly

Then your phone ends up on do not disturb. You’ve got to finish these chores if you want to be able to properly focus on your studies. 

Unfortunately you think about Tasha’s texts until you crawl into bed. She was adamant that he was feeling you in at least one sense of the word. The idea makes your cheeks warm. Not much, since it would just be a delusion, but enough for you to recognize the familiar flush.

Next time you see him, you’ve got to block the messages out of your mind. Otherwise you’d make a fool out of yourself. He had a girlfriend, and you’d respect that.

Plus, he didn’t even know your name! How could he have any sort of feeling for you without knowing your name? You supposed it could be similar to how you’ve got a flutter in your chest when you see him, but that’d be dumb, men don’t think that way.

—

You’re hunched over your laptop, typing up a storm when you hear the bell jingle. It doesn’t stop you from typing, you’ve got a flow going and you wouldn’t stop it for the world. 

When your half-hearted greeting is replied to by a known voice you freeze. It’s brief, so you hope he doesn’t notice, but it still happens. Then you’re back to typing, throwing a ‘let me know if you need anything!’ in his general direction.

Truth be told, you were just typing mumbo-jumbo. Trying to manifest a proper thought that would never come. You wanted to look up. See if he had come by himself today, or if he had brought his girlfriend along. But curiosity killed the cat, and living in the fantasy that he could possibly like you, was far too nice to trade.

You switch from typing on your personal laptop, to typing on the shop’s pc. If you weren’t going to be productive with your essay, you could at least be productive by ordering some much needed stock. 

That’s the only reason you switched. Not because you wanted to take a look around the shop. Not because the flutter in your chest was still happening, minutes after just speaking to him. And most certainly not because you remembered, curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

You wanted it to be conspicuous. Nonchalant. Just a casual glance around the shop to make sure no one was stealing anything. 

However, a shout made you spring your head up. Staring directly at the man you're infatuated with, and his companion for the day. A tall man, with a graying beard.

He really has no shortage of friends. All different shapes and sizes too.

“Sorry!” He’s waving at you, an embarrassed look overtaking his features. 

Before you can tell him that there’s no need to apologize his friend is speaking, loudly, again “Why do you apologize? We do nothing wrong, nothing.”

“Because! It’s a bookshop, and it was quiet. Silent even! Before you shouted.” He’s whisper shouting, trying to make his point in the quietest way possible. 

Huffing out a laugh, you go back to your essay. Even with nobody else in the shop, this guy still has the manners to not want to mess up the vibe. Maybe he has a twin you could get with.

You barely hear from the two again until they're right up in front of you. Your ears pick up on ‘Alexi’ and ‘over there’, before you’re approached by ocean eyes himself. 

“Hi. Sorry again, about him.” It looks like he’s rocking on his feet a little bit, but you’re not tall enough to be sure. “ He - uh. He’s not the best in social settings.”

“Ah, I see. So. What’re you getting today?” Your hands are out, like a child waiting to accept a present.

He places ‘The Kill Order’ in your hands. “Newt died. You kinda gaslit me into believing he was a safe favorite character.” 

The way he says it is flat. It makes you worry a bit, and he’s looking at you straight faced like he’s really got a bone to pick. “My bad! He really was my favorite. Even though he kicked the bucket. I didn’t think you’d really pay more attention to him if I mentioned it.” 

You hope your apology is taken seriously. Your eyebrows are creased, eyes conveying your sincerness, at least you hope they are. But then he’s laughing. Why is he laughing?

“Sorry, I - I wasn’t serious. I did think he was a safe character to like but I thought it’d be funny to pull your leg a little.” Oh. Thank god he wasn’t really upset.

Then you’re laughing a little bit along with him, “You got me. I’ll give you that.” You scan the book, proceeding along with the same routine as always. This time you’re wrapping it in a deep burgundy packing paper, sticking it with a ‘Come again soon!’ sticker before handing it back. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” He raises his eyes to meet yours when you start speaking, “but you read a lot.” 

“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. It’s nice to be immersed in a different world sometimes.”

“Gotcha. Well it was nice to see you again…” You trail off, hoping he takes the hint and gives you his name.

“Oh - Bob, I-I’m Bob. What’s your name?” He’s back to avoiding eye contact. But he hasn’t moved away from the counter yet, so he can’t be that uncomfortable.

You give him your name, and he repeats it. Trying it out on his tongue, figuring out the syllables and the way to say them that makes them sound best. Then he’s leaving, well, more like getting dragged out. 

His huge friend has an arm wrapped around his shoulders and he’s walking with a purpose that Bob can’t resist. 

As they start to make their way down the street, Bob spares you a grin and a wave through the window. 

You wonder when he’ll finish that book. When he’ll be back and you’ll get to look into his eyes again. When you’ll get to dream about how soft his hair is.

As long as you’re on shift you couldn’t care less though.

—

This goes on for a few months. Bob comes in, always with a companion, picks out a book from a series you’ve recommended. The two of you crack a couple of jokes, or Bob asks you about your studies. And then he’s gone for a few days. 

Sometimes he doesn’t show up at all. Usually just for a few days, which wouldn’t be bad but it's abnormal for him. Once in a blue moon it's for a or over a week, he never explains, just apologizes.

His companions are always one of 6 people. They fluctuate, sometimes the same person joining him two times in a row, sometimes they rotate like a wheel and you don’t see the same person for a few weeks.

Then they stop coming. Well not entirely. But they stop coming inside. At first they just stand outside the shop, lingering just outside the door. 

Eventually they start to ‘drop’ Bob off. Walk with him till they get to the shop, the two of them exchange a few words, then Bob walks in, and his companion walks off. 

They make sure to pick him up after. It’s always on their time though. Bob will come in, pick out his book, check out, and then talk to you the rest of the time.

It’s all basic conversation, favorite colors, what drew you to get your degree, why you chose NYU over something closer to home, favorite ice cream flavor, what Florida was like. 

It seems silly to assume that he likes you. But it seems even sillier to assume that he doesn’t. No way would he waste all this time just to not care at all. 

He still asks Tasha about you when you’re not there. She thinks you two are a match made in heaven. Well as close to one as she can get without really knowing him. But he’s attractive, attracted to you, you say he's kind, so what’s not to like.

You see Bob and his female blonde companion, Yelena you think her name is, talking outside the shop. You can’t hear them, but you can see Bob wringing his fingers together and Yelena putting her hands on his shoulders, giving him a decent shake. 

Then it’s like something in Bob shifts, and he gains confidence. Looking into her eyes he smiles a bit, not too much, but enough for it to be noticeable. And he's turning around, and opening the door to the shop. 

“Good morning, how’s it going?” He’s smiling, looking directly at you.

You can tell he’s really taking you in. How you did your hair, the sweater that you’re wearing, maybe he even notices the mascara you put on just on the hope that you’d see him today. 

“Good, how’s it going with you?” 

He’s not moving from the counter, still studying you. “It’s good. Hopefully it’ll be better in a minute.” The look on your face, warm, comforting, understanding, interested, encourages him to continue. “I was hoping you’d maybe…” Bob has to take a breath to steady himself, “W-would you get coffee with me sometime?”

It takes you a few seconds to process. Bob wants to get coffee with you? Like as in a date? You’ve been dreaming about this for months. When you’re done thinking it through, the giddiness gets to you.

Beaming at him, “Of course. I would love to get coffee with you Bob.” 

“Really?” His mouth is gaping a little, like he really thought you’d reject him.

“Really. I’m not working on Thursday if that works for you?” You really hope that there aren’t hearts in your eyes. The blush on your cheeks is prominent, you can feel it, and it would be embarrassing if Bob didn’t have a matching one.

“Thursdays gre-perfect. It’s perfect.” 

You’re discussing which cafe to go to before you shoo Bob away to go pick out his book. God forbid Yelena comes back and he still hasn’t checked out.

There’s a pleasant warmth in your chest when he leaves. And you’re light, like every stress has been lifted away. Maybe it’s adrenaline from your crush being reciprocated, or maybe it’s the bloom of puppy love, either way it's welcomed.

—

When Thursday rolls around, you’re more energized than ever. Practically bouncing around your apartment as you get ready. Using the same body wash, and lotion so the scent really sticks.

Putting on makeup, not too much, but enough so that it enhances your face and gives you some extra ‘shine’.

You also make sure to dress comfortable, cute, but comfortable. You’ve only seen Bob outside of his sweaters a handful of times, and you doubt that a coffee shop date would be the spot he decides to bring out all the stops.

Wait. What if he doesn’t see this as a date. Maybe he just wanted to become friends with you outside your job. Wanted to add onto his never ending revolving companions to accompany him around on his errands. 

No. That’s not right. Bob wouldn’t do that, anyone would have to know that would be leading you on and he doesn’t have the hate in him to do that. No way.

When you get there, Bob’s already sitting down at a table. He’s people watching, looking out the window at all the unsuspecting people passing by.

His hair looks like he styled it instead of letting it do it’s own thing, and he's got a comfy crew-neck on. The slopes of his nose and lips and the way that his lashes lightly brush his cheekbones when he blinks. He’s beautiful like this, unfortunate that you have to break up his peace. 

You slide into the chair across from him, “Hey.”

He’s smiling at you, one of the biggest you’ve seen, “How was the walk?”

“Not bad, a little chilly but that’s nothing new.” 

“Well, let me get you a drink to warm up, yeah?”

You give him your order, and then he’s gone. Up at the counter in a flash, and seemingly back in even less time. 

Like a proper gentleman he hands you yours first. His hand was a little too big on the mug, leaving you no choice but to brush your fingers against his as you go to grip it. Believe it or not, it’s the first time you’ve touched. 

Suddenly, the world is being painted black. It’s creeping up all around you, spreading from where you stand, up the walls, to the ceiling. For a split second it’s just you in this neverending black box.

Then you’re in the backseat of your first ever car. “How the hell?” You’re looking around, trying to figure out how you could have possibly gotten here. You were just with Bob, at a cafe, on your first date.

Then you start murmuring. Not you you, but the younger you, the one sitting in the front seat. She’s talking about how tiring it is being perfect, doing everything that everyone ever asks, always being the one that people know they can rely on, or at the very least fall back on to talk shit about others to. And before you can even finish your rant your fathers screaming back at you. How he owns the house, he lives in the house, he bought your car, he provides everything and asks for so little back. 

You feel the tears before you recognize that you're crying. But you hear her sobs. The way her chest shakes with every breath, the way it's painful to inhale. How the hell did you get here, and why can’t you just get out?

The screaming doesn’t stop, it keeps going, getting progressively worse. You’re clearly ungrateful, and you need to remember your place. When you get your own place, then you can have the thoughts and feelings that you’re currently having. Until then suck it up.

You try to leave, opening the door of the car, but you can’t, you have too much respect for your father. 

The adult you is staring. This was the whole reason you left home after all. All the talk about having a place of your own, the arguments over the way you kept your room, or didn’t clean a specific area of the house. 

It ends with the sound of you sobbing still. Worse than before. Your airways are already compromised with the snot blocking it, and the way you’re trying to suppress the sobs is only making it worse. 

And then it’s melting away. In the same way that it started, but in reverse. The scene fades to black, the ceiling gets its color back first. The rest of the scene coming into view, Bob staring at you is the last thing you register. 

“I-i-i’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?” He’s worried, the stutter proving your thoughts. But how does he know something is wrong? You didn’t see anyone else in there with you, just your own personal hell.

“Did.. Did you do that?” You’re trying to piece together this puzzle. No way that you slice or dice it does it look good. 

His eyes are frantic, you think that’s what tipped you off, “I. I did. I didn’t mean to though! I promise it was an accident.” 

Then you’re pushing past him. Not slowing down as he calls after you. When you make it to the sidewalk, you book it.

What the hell?

What was wrong with him?

What was wrong with you?

How did he even do that?

Did he bring you out on a date just to humiliate you?

Maybe that’s what you deserve, his girl friends probably told him to do it. Even if you don’t understand how it worked, it would make sense; embarrass you to the point where you’d never bother him again.

—

You take the next week off of work. Any shift you can, you give to Tasha. The shifts that you do work, because you need money to live, are the afternoons. Just a few hours, essentially in and out.

As long as no one sells you out, Bob would never know and would never come during that time. 

You told Tasha that the date went bad, but that was all you had disclosed. You hoped she’d be kind enough not to meddle.

She did inform you that he came in often, almost everyday, looking for you. He’d asked when you’d be working next, Tasha told him it was illegal for her to tell him.

He’d left notes with Tasha, and she passed them along. Just for you to toss them in the bin. The one at work, so you wouldn’t be tempted to dig through the trash and see what he wrote.

He asked what you liked, if there was a gift card or book he could get you to apologize. Tasha told him to kick rocks. 

She did let you know that he looked awful. His hair was messy, tousled beyond its normal amount; like he spends all day running his hands through it. 

His eyes had bags under them. They were extremely sunken in, and had a purplish hue to them. His eyes themselves were red, sometimes puffy, most times half-lidded, like opening them took too much energy.

He was almost always sniffling. His nose red from irritation. You told her this had to have been allergies, Tasha insisted it was from crying.

And lastly, his hands. Always fidgeting. Picking at his nail beds, wringing around each other, or cracking his knuckles.

Bob looked worn down. His body, mind and soul. But what did Tasha want you to do about it, it’s not your fault.

—

It’s another week later when a blonde walks into the shop. 

You take a glance at the clock on your computer before speaking, “Hey, just wanted to let you know that we close in a half-an-hour. Take your time though.”

“I’m actually here for you.” 

That sends a chill down your spine. This is New York so it wouldn’t be completely unheard of to be taken hostage. But you haven’t done anything and you have essentially no value, so why are they here for you?

For the first time, you really look at the person in front of you. You know her. Not entirely sure from where, but she’s familiar in a way. 

You take the non-threatening approach, donning a soft smile before you speak, “Yeah of course. What can I do for you?” 

She’s staring at you, and you swear she hasn’t blinked once. It’s like she’s staring through your soul. 

“Bob told me that he sent you to a shame room.” 

“What?” Breath catching in your throat. You remember her now, Yelena. Bob’s most frequent companion. Maybe if you can keep your cool, you’ll get off easy.

“On your date. At the place that does the uhhh, latte art?” Yelena’s still holding eye contact. 

You’re really trying not to sweat, “Oh. Yeah, what about it?”

“You’ve been ignoring him since.” 

You can’t deny it. You literally switched shifts just so you wouldn’t have to see him. So you nod, hoping that suffices.

“He didn’t mean to. He can’t control it.”

What is she even talking about, “Sorry? Can’t control what?” 

“The shame room. Where you went when he touched you?” You hum a bit in response before she continues, “He can’t control that. He’s been good for months, so he thought he could get through a date, with you, safely.”

You don’t understand though. Why can’t he control that? Why can he do that, period. It’s not normal but Bob’s definitely not a superhero that you’ve seen on your TV before.

“Why.. Why can he do that?” If she’s gonna corner you here, you’re at least gonna ask some questions too.

“It’s a long story, not mine to tell. But I’m sure Bob would tell you. If you let him.” Then she’s turning, heading straight for the door. 

That’s it? 

That’s all she had to say?

What, was she trying to scare you into talking to him?

Your heart ached. You thought he liked you, thought he had maybe cared for you like you cared for him. And it’s okay if he didn’t but why did he have to make it the most painful way possible?

—

You don’t get much sleep that night. Tossing and turning as you replay the past few months in your head. Bob was a lot of things, but he wasn’t the type to be malicious. Not the type to purposefully torture others. 

And you doubt he sent Yelena after you. She probably just saw him hurting and decided to step in. Completely understandable, and in its own way that hurt too.

It hurt because it meant that Bob was hurting. He missed you as much as you missed him. And he’s had much less context for why you’re avoiding him.

You decide you’ll go to the shop in the morning. Hang out with Tasha and maybe, if you’re lucky, run into Bob.

—

You manage to fall asleep, not for long but it's better than nothing. The anxiety you have is making you shake.

Whether it's your hands, your arms, or your legs, somethings been moving all morning.

To calm yourself, you take the long way. Make a stop at a cafe, getting Tasha a coffee as well since you’re an amazing coworker. 

When you come up on the bookshop, you can see Bob through the window. 

While you can’t see his face, you know he’s not 100%. 

His shoulders are slouching, caving in on himself it seems. He’s saying something to Tasha, trying to get her to accept another note by the looks of it. 

The jingle of the bell above the door makes both of them freeze. 

Tasha’s eyes widen, recognition that you’re finally facing the music flashing through them. And that must be what makes Bob turn around.

He turns slowly. Eyes slowly roaming over your body before finally landing on your face. His mouth falls open, not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.

Then his lower lip starts to wobble, tears gathering over his waterline making his eyes glassy, and he’s moving towards you.

Slow, unsure steps lead him to a few feet in front of you. His hands move over your shoulders, not daring to touch you, but hovering close enough for you to just barely feel their warmth. 

“I’m so,so,so, sorry. I’ve been working on it, and I just..” He swallows before continuing, not breaking eye contact, “I feel so calm. Like - like I’m at peace, when I’m around you, so I thought it wouldn’t happen. I thought I could break it to you slowly, a-after you accepted a second date.”

You’re just standing there. The damn coffee you got prevents you from wringing your hands, and it’s difficult to bounce your legs when standing. 

The urge to back away from him is strong. But you can tell he’s trying, you can tell that he wants you to believe him.

When Bob realizes you aren’t going to respond, he continues, “I thought it would be too heavy, you know? To tell you about all of this baggage that I have. Thought that if I told you, everything would change.” 

“A warning would have been nice.” You’re not looking at him anymore, instead staring at your shoes. It’s a shame you didn’t trip on your lace on the way here, then you wouldn’t have had to come.

“I know.” Bob sighs, “I know that now. And if I could go back, I would have told you. Warned you even if I ended up being the boy that cried wolf.”

You see his hands retract, no longer hovering over your shoulders. You don’t understand why he pulls his sleeves over his hands. But then he’s placing his, now covered, hands on your shoulders. The grip he has is strong, but not painful, “I need you to know. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’d never do anything to hurt you. Intentionally at least.” 

“So you’d do it unintentionally?” 

You’re being difficult. Intentionally. Mostly because he’s not making sense, what type of scumbag says he’d never hurt you intentionally. That’s like the bare minimum.

“There’s… A lot to explain. I’ll explain it all, if you’ll let me!” He’s leaning a bit now, bending at the knees to get a look into your eyes. 

When you do meet his eyes, you can see the sincerity. They haven’t stopped glistening, still shiny with unshed tears. But it looks like he wants you to look into his soul, to understand that from deep in his core he is apologetic. 

A scumbag wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t have covered their hands to prevent touching you. They wouldn’t have been trying so hard to get in contact with you. 

So you nod. 

You’ve agreed to meet him again. Not on a date, but for some answers. 

He wants to do it today.

You tell him that you need time. To process or prepare, you’re not sure. But you know you need time.

Your feelings about him haven’t had the proper time to dissipate, so a small part of you still hopes that everything could work out.

—

When you do come around and text Bob that you’re ready to talk. His response comes almost immediately.

You invite him to your apartment. It’s more intimate than you would like, however it would save you the embarrassment of how you would end up if he were to send you to a ‘shame room’ again.

When Bob gets there, he's nervous. Just a little twitchy, not too much but enough to be noticeable. 

He’s brought pastries. Something about his mother telling him to ‘never show up empty handed’ tumbles from his lips as he hands them to you.

You offer him a drink, like this is just going to be a fun catch up between pals. 

Not sure what to expect, you lead Bob to your dining room table. It’s a good space to have this conversation, not too comfortable like the couch, but not too formal like standing near the door.

“So -” You can barely get it out of your mouth before Bob starts spilling his life story to you.

He doesn’t go too deep into any one topic, but he makes sure that you can paint a clear picture in your mind.

He had a rough childhood, never close with either of his parents. That led him to drugs, which then ebbed into addiction. 

The addiction sent him all around the world, sometimes trying to get better, most times trying to find more, better, different drugs.

He ended up in Malaysia, they offered him a test run of some new drug. One that would make him ‘better’. 

Everyone could be better, him more than others. 

But then there's a blank slate in his memory. No recollection of what happened after they gave him the drug.

Until he ends up in some bunker with 3 of his 6 companions. They escaped together and have been working to make the world a ‘better place’.

“Wait. What do you mean you've been ‘working to make the world a better place’?” It’s the first time you’ve spoken since he went on his tangent, and Bob looks surprised that you had something to say.

“Well, they do. Not me, I focus on… Communications mostly. Because I don’t have a good enough grasp on my powers yet.” 

“And what exactly do they do?”

“It’s uh - Classified?” 

You scoff, “Classified..? What do you think you are? The Avengers?”

After you mutter your rhetorical question, Bob looks away.

“No way. You’re an Avenger?”

“Technically.” His heads down, leaving you to stare at his scalp instead of his eyes.

“And all the people you came into the shop with? They’re Avengers too?”

“Yeah. They’re more flashy. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t recognize them, to be honest.” He huffs out a laugh, seemingly glad that you’re actually taking part in the conversation now.

Your response is quiet, “It’s a psychological thing.”

Bob hums in response, urging you to continue.

“When you see someone, like a superhero, out of where your brain assumes they would be, most times you miss it. Some of your friends looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I saw them, until now.”

“That’s… Wow, I never knew that.” Bob’s looking at you with a bit of awe in his eyes.

But then he’s straight back to business.

He tells you about how before, his bad days were bad and he’d black out. But now after the treatment, another, worse side of him has awakened. 

That’s how he transported you into one of your worst memories. 

“At least one person from the team stayed with me, all the time. That’s how it was when I first met you.” Bob’s tapping his fingers against the table, in a slow rhythmic pattern, “But then I wanted to take you out. And who goes on a date with a chaperone when we’re adults, right?”

“Yeah, right.” You’re laughing at him, or maybe with him.

“So, I started working on containing my powers more. Working on making them my own, so that I could be by myself. M-more like so I could be alone with you.”

“Just with me?” 

He’s nodding, “Just with you. And it went really good! To the point where I could go out on all sorts of different errands by myself.”

His cup has started to sweat. All the condensation building up on it from being untouched this whole time. Because you care about your well loved table, you reach across and lift his cup before placing it on a coaster. It slows him down for a second before he can continue.

“It was the nerves. O-or at least I think it was the nerves. I don’t know for sure what causes it; nobody does.”

“So, you being nervous about being on a date made you send me to my own personal hell?”

“Being on a date, with you specifically, yes.”

The way he’s opened up to you has greatly increased your trust in him.

If everything he’s saying was true, he had a bad deal in life and he’s doing the best with what he’s got. The Bob you knew did have some confidence problems, taking a while to open up to you originally so it wouldn't be surprising that he would be nervous.

It also wouldn’t be surprising that him being nervous would send his powers out of wack. There’s been articles about it before, how super powered individuals don’t realize the way their emotions are affecting their powers before it’s too late.

And if he’s lying. You’d have to give him a shot for just how damn good of a lie it was. No one could lie that good without a purpose.

So you reach across the table, towards Bob’s fidgeting hand. His eyes aren’t looking up so you only know that he sees you when his fingers stop tapping.

“I want to try.” You gulp and take a steadying breath, “I’d like to try with you if I didn’t put you off too much.”

You’re not touching him. Even though you would be the one suffering, it only felt right for him to make the first move. Not wanting to overstep by triggering his powers again.

After a couple of seconds he still hasn’t moved. Hasn’t looked up at you, hasn’t grasped your hand, hasn’t even twitched his fingers.

Then, softly, like if he speaks too loud the room would crack around him, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m sure.”

Slowly, his hand rises up to meet yours. When they connect nothing changes.

No black tendrils crawling up your walls, no darkness consuming you with no escape, no flashbacks to things you don’t want to remember.

The only thing you feel is the warmth from Bob’s hand. The calluses on his palm, small, but still present. You feel the tender way his thumb brushes over your knuckles. 

Once he realizes that nothing’s happening, he grips your hand tighter. It seems unconscious, the surprise from nothing bad happening overtaking him before he can stop it.

He’s beaming at you. A kiddish smile, one that allows all the joy to really shine through. 

You’re no better. Smiling so wide that if you didn’t stop, your cheeks would start to hurt.

Everyone has baggage, some of them more than others. But that doesn’t mean that anyone is undeserving. Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t give someone a chance to prove that they can be more than their baggage. 

You wouldn’t deprive yourself of this opportunity. Wouldn’t be so unkind to deprive Bob of it either. So with the promise that he would be honest with you. That he would communicate to you, the good and the bad, no matter what. You and Bob start your relationship.

Moving over to the couch, finally able to be comfortable, instead of cordial. The two of you settle into a movie, sitting close. Close enough to touch, but not actually touching.

Until halfway through, when your head comes to rest on his shoulder, and the blanket that you have resting on the back of the couch comes to rest over your laps.

Your curiosity over Bob may have ‘killed’ you, sending you into a week-long depression for many different reasons. Leading to you shutting out the world, not willing to accept the fact that you were wrong about him.

But the way that you’re feeling right now. Feeling Bob lifting his arm to wrap around your shoulders, letting your head fall onto his chest instead of his shoulder. Hearing his heart thumping in his chest, almost lulling you to sleep. 

You know that this is satisfaction. It’s bloomed deep in your chest, taking a permanent residence there. Deeply rooted like it's attached to every neuron in you. And you know that it’s brought you back.

likes/comments/reblogs give me buffs to my character (greatly appreciated <3)

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

❧ prompt:  "Why are you so worked up?" "Because they wouldn't stop fucking staring at you like they wanted to eat you." From here.

❧ the act’s performers: kiyoomi sakusa x f!reader

❧ wc: 1.7k

❧ warnings: swearing, jealousy, kissing, insecurity (let me know if I missed stuff)

❧ a/n: just a little something lolol idk I hope ya'll like it!

"You're not my type."

"And you think you're mine?"

Sakusa Kiyoomi could not believe the conversation he was forced to participate in. A mixture of disgust and amusement contorted his features at the woman staring up at him with a devious glint in her irises. Over the last year, it was almost nonstop bickering between the two of you. Well, according to Atsumu it was flirting on your end and bickering on his friend's end.

To be honest, a study needed to be conducted on why your presence alone could drive the wing spiker to insanity. From the way you would push past his physical boundaries without hesitation to the siren-like expressions, you would toss his way during class. It stripped him of his rationality and delivered him straight to madness.

All he wanted was to focus on college and volleyball, and yet sometimes all he could focus on was you.

"If I'm not your type, why do you only bother me?" The black-haired male surveyed your face for a nonverbal answer to his question. However, as always, he was greeted with a flirtatious bat of your lashes rather than a clue as to what was going on in that head of yours.

"How are you so certain that I only bother you?" Bringing your index finger to your mouth, you lightly bit down on your nail with a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. Your answer evidently caught the male off guard, as there was a momentary crack in his usual nonchalant demeanour. "How arrogant of you to think you're the only one."

"If you have other toys, go bother them instead. I'm busy." Sakusa shifted his gaze away from you, with tension applying to his jawline. He had to bite back the urge to pout. Where was his mask again? Why did you have to catch him in a moment when he was shieldless?

"Really? You won't miss me, pretty boy?" The hand that was once near your mouth was now extended so that you could guide his attention back to you. To both of your surprise, he did not stop you immediately when your finger applied light force on his chin. Though once his dark eyes landed on yours, he was prompt in swatting your hand away.

"First, don't call me that. Second, why would I miss you?" The volleyball player's words were coated in venom, but he ignored the bitter taste. It was nothing in comparison to the emotion flooding his chest right now.

And the last thing he wanted to admit was that his heart was drowning in jealousy.

"Okay, pretty boy. Just remember... Be careful what you wish for." After dipping an eyelid into a wink, a harmonic laugh follows your words as you step away from the male.

Sakusa instantly regretted his choice of words, and yet all he could do was glare in response.

****

Silence and peace accompanied Sakusa for the following two weeks, along with bright warm spring days. His volleyball team even secured a win against their rival, one that had the hallways of the college buzzing in excitement. But the male could not find himself satisfied with his victory - not when someone was missing from the stands. A certain someone who attended his every game to shamelessly flirt and ward off the fangirls.

It was becoming progressively clearer just how much your absence impacted his daily life. Just how much he did not truly care for quiet days. And just how much he missed your mischievous mannerisms.

Atsumu practically snapped at his team-mate on day 13 - claiming that Sakusa was merely ruining his own chances with the girl he obviously liked. Sakusa cursed out the blonde-haired boy in response, but he secretly agreed with everything that was said.

But what was stopping him from seeking you out? Over the last year, you were the one who pursued him. Should the tables not turn anyway at some point? It was only fair that he chase after you now. Even if that meant going against his better judgment.

Who said emotions were supposed to make sense?

It was day 16 when Sakusa was finally successful in diminishing the distance between you two. Well, rather than being successful in his mission, it was pure luck that caused him to accidentally stumble onto your location. However, luck was truly a nasty creature, as the scene he had entered was one that had a storm brewing inside of the male's chest.

A sickening realization had suddenly plagued the male.

He hated the idea of you "bothering" someone else. Why the hell did he send you into the arms of another!?

"If I had known there were such pretty girls in Japan, I would have come here earlier." The blue and blonde-haired male towered over you with a smirk on his mouth. Based on his accent, he was a foreigner who likely transferred to the school recently.

"I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty enough to move across the globe, Kaiser." A cheerful smile painted across your lips as you interlocked your fingers behind your back. It was more friendly than flirtatious, yet Sakusa felt rage burn in his palms.

When he made the comment about your other toys, he did not think you'd actually give him space. In the past, he had made all sorts of snarky remarks. How many times did he tell you to go away? He had lost count. But what mattered was that you never acted upon his harsh words.

What changed now? Were you fed up with him?

"I'd do a lot more than that for someone as pretty as you, y/n." This time the male named Kaiser lightly grabbed onto your chin, forcing your head to move skyward. And as he leaned in closer, his eyelids dropped just a smidge which even had someone like you blinking in slight astonishment.

But before you could register what was occurring - a new individual entered the stage. Warm fingers were wrapped around your wrist, and with one swift motion, you were pulled away from Kaiser. A familiar scent of laundry detergent tickled your nose. It didn't take you too long to realize whose chest you were currently pressed against.

"Kiyoomi?" His name was breathed out with a fascinated laugh as you peered up at him. Although, his consideration was not on you at all. No, he was engaged in a staring match with the foreign soccer player.

"Y/n. I didn't know you have no standards." The comment comes from Sakusa who refuses to release your wrist. A grimace moulds your features at his incorrect and disrespectful assumption.

"Oh-oh, what do we have here? You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend, y/n." Kaiser raised an eyebrow with a humourless chuckle vibrating in his chest.

"I don't have a boyfriend, that's why." Sakusa tensed up at your retort, which only brought laughter to flow past your lips. "But I do have a grumpy cat it seems." A quick glance was stolen of the male beside you who remained focused on what you realized he considered his love rival.

"But your heart isn't owned by the grumpy cat, now is it?" The soccer player discovered far too much entertainment in the situation. Sakusa was practically sending daggers in his direction, and yet it was all just simply amusing. Kaiser was not interested in you enough to willingly enter a fistfight. But he could not keep himself from teasing the unknown male. "I'm sure I can satisfy your needs much better than he can, my sweet y/n."

"We're done here." It's the latter comment that has the wing spiker suddenly dragging you down the hallway. However, right before leading you away, he released your wrist and instead tangled his fingers with yours. Butterflies sang a melody inside of your stomach as a number of curses were mumbled against the fabric of his mask, causing you to stifle back a titter.

"Why are you so worked up?" The inquiry is posed once Sakusa leads you into an empty classroom. The black-haired male only realized he was holding your hand when his feet stopped carrying him to his destination. A light blush could be seen peeking out from the top of his mask.

It was ridiculously adorable.

"Because he wouldn't stop fucking staring at you like he wanted to eat you." His words were huffed out as his fingers were sent to toy with the strings looped along his ears.

"Eat me? Oh, I'm sure he wanted to do much more." Since ending the physical contact, Sakusa remained a meters distance away from you. A calculated decision on his part, clearly. But you were prompt in destroying that distance with a few steps forward. "I thought you wanted me to play with my other toys, hm?"

The volleyball player elected to remain silent, instead his dark irises bore into yours. Even when you extended your hand to lightly remove his mask, he did not utter a word. Nor did he disturb your movements.

When he brought you here he was not thinking straight, he had no plan. He just wanted to separate you from that man.

"Kiyoomi, if I had known you were such a jealous boy, I would have used this to my advantage earlier." The admission was exhaled with a dramatic sigh, but the playful edge to your tone was difficult to miss. "If you want me, pretty boy, I think now is the time to confess. Unless, you want me to go back to -"

The soccer player's name was swallowed back down as Sakusa's lips suddenly crashed against yours. There was no way in hell he would ever allow you to say another man's name in a romantic context again. The pads of his fingers brushed over your cheeks so lightly you could have confused it for a breeze. The earlier feelings of jealousy melted away with each passing second, as Sakusa bathed in the thrill of finally giving in to his desires. And when you broke the close proximity to catch a breath of air, he was quick to bring your mouth back to his in an urgency you had never expected from the male.

Well, it was needless to say... Operation jealousy was a success.

[cherry-romper]

𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐜𝐬

+ Lui kang, Kung Lao, Raiden, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Syzoth, Shang Tsung ᥫ᭡ Warnings; none ᥫ᭡ Contains; GN!Reader, fluff Re-upload for anon <3

Liu Kang; 

Keeps it tame. Much prefers intimate moments over flirting. For example, he’ll say things to you in privacy so only the two of you hear it.

He’s most prone to calling you beautiful or just watching you, he is completely enamoured by you and can’t believe you exist, he didn’t really plan it so he just enjoys being in your company. 

Loves watching the sun rise or fall with you, he thinks you look etherial on the pinkish glow and will always remind you of that. 

Once you’re more official he’ll be more open to flirting in public, but he still prefers to keep things between the two of you. 

Kung Lao;

Back and forth banter is his way of flirting. 

He loves the little games of wit the two of you have. However, he also loves sparing with you, its a reason to be around you for longer and you get to through cocky insults at each other the whole time. 

When the two of you are alone, he’s still gonna be saying stuff to get you fired up, but on occasion he’s been known to go out his way to do things for you, its absolutely his way of flirting without words. 

Speaking of, will show off big time when he feels he needs to. He’s literally THE Kung Lao, he doesn’t often feel the need to impress people, he’s already pretty impressive, but when you’re around, he can’t help but go the extra mile.

Raiden; 

Tries his best, but his friends are normally the ones to help him along. 

Mostly because doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, he’s worried he’ll come off too strong if he starts to outright call you beautiful or say he likes your company. 

He will often bring you things that make him think of you, like a flower or a souvenir from Outworld. If he doesn’t bring you something, he’ll sit with you and tell you tales of how he saw something so extraordinary he couldn’t help but think of you.

Sometimes he can get a little corny, but it’s so sweet you don’t mind.  

Bi-han; 

His flirting is praise.

If you do good, or do something without him having asked, he’ll tell you how good you did and how much he appreciates it.

He’ll probably give you a promotion or something. Maybe he’ll upgrade your weapons or give you a squadron to command. 

Other than praise, power is his other love language. He’ll give you whatever you need to defeat whoever you need too, your enemies are his, and vice versa. 

Kuai Liang; 

He never really hid it. He knows what he wants and known that life is too short, especially in his line of work, to beat around the bush. 

He won’t go straight in with being overbearing, but will absolutely tell you how he feels. 

Has no issues flirting with you in private, but in public he’ll keep it tame. 

Prefers just being in your company than physical touch or even words of affirmation. He get’s kinda tired and after all the emotional trauma he’s been through he just needs someone he can exist with. No expectations, just being together. 

Tomas Vrbada; 

He’s super respectful. Almost to a fault. 

Johnny got him on romance movies so he toke notes from there, but they didn’t feel authentic, so he changed his approach to just getting to know you as best he could.

Offers you help with anything. Training, studies, even offers to go on hikes with you. 

He’s comfortable in the silence between the two of you, but he’s great at small talk, he loves talking to you and hearing how you see the world.

Johnny Cage; 

He thinks his presence is flirting. Why would he need to say a thing when the Johnny Cage is in the building?

However, he can be sweet, when he wants to be. Gives you gifts and makes sure you never have to lift a finger. 

Shows off all the time, with everything. Needs you to know how amazing he is at everything. BUT, he also likes making you feel like you’re also amazing. HE has taken an interest in you, so you’re the awesome by default. 

Secretly loves banter. As much as he loves praise, playing hard to get or insulting him in a playful manner will make him happy. 

Kenshi Takahashi;

He builds his relationship with you in private. When it’s just the two of you is when he’ll flirt, but its not super romantic, sweep-you-off-your-feet flirting, he’s subtle in the way he compliments you.

Can be sarcastic with his humour and likes it when you are sarcastic back.

Even though he can’t see, he uses his other senses more attentively, he almost always knows when something is wrong by the changes in your breathing patterns or the way you shuffle if you’re uncomfortable. He’ll always make sure you’re okay. 

Loves sparing with you. Is happy to see how you’ve improved and what’s to see you better yourself. However, is more than happy and willing to protect you if he needed to.

Syzoth; 

Can be kind of shy when it comes to flirting but he’s worried about the rejection. He’s lost enough and he’s really intrigued by you, so he takes things slow; he puts a lot of thought into what he says to you.

He’s incredibly observant. He picks up on everything. Sometimes it can be a bit jarring when you just want to keep something to yourself, but he already knows about it. If you’re not feeling well or something is bothering you he’ll always know.

He can be a tease at times. He can be sarcastic and might even laugh when you say something cocky but he’ll never overstep. It’s just the right amount to make you smile. 

He’s a fan of physical touch. Not too much to be overbearing but just enough that he can feel your warmth. Is different that what he’s used to, its such a strange sensation but a welcome one. 

Shang Tsung; 

Flatters you any change he gets. Is really good at seduction and knows the right thing to say all the time.

Part of the way he flirts is with keeping himself mysterious enough to leave you wanting to know more about him. It puts him in a position of control. 

Often will hold prolonged eye contact. It’s intense and he uses it to create a connection between you. Even though he’s sharp with his tongue, sometimes the eyes say more. 

Can be a tease, but never in a way that leave it open for you to tease him back. He always has the upper hand. Always.

[angelyuji]

I really love your Yandere!Cecil stuff and its kind of my favorite rn! But was was wondering if you could do something soft-ish Yandere?? I gues??? I don't know what I'm talking about. Like ___ has Superpowers and Cecil and them got together after he was made the Director of the GDA. ___ Has been a hero so long that they're tired, exhausted even, and then they talk to Cecil about it. Cecil would be surprisingly okay with the idea of hiding them away so they could have a break. Cecil knows they can take care of themselves but can't help but panic and obsess over them. Cameras watching the house and town (not everyone's a spy cause she knows a lot of the agents from working with them for so long) as well as a secret tracker implanted in them after a really big kidnapping accident as a hero (came in handy?) But like a soft but dark yandere Cecil.

I'm sorry if this really long and detailed but if you give it the time to think it over, thank you so much! 🙇

hello my silly!! long and detailed is what i like best :) pause...

i honestly see cecil is a pretty soft yandere unless he's panicky and you're getting on his nerves. (or just not listening/understanding him)

i see what you're cooking tho so lemme see if i can expand on that. also fun fact: im supposed to be studying rn... but... i cant get cecil out of my head so...

cw // yandere, kidnapping (not cecil initiated), nonconsenual body modification, nothing too coo-coo in the fic (just... implications of coo-coo if u read into it), kinda voyeurism

crazy yan!cecil headcanons at the end so cw // manipulation, emotional/financial abuse, abuse of power, gaslighting (kinda... from me lmao)

"i need to get out, cecil." you were tired. it was exhausting, this job. everything has fallen onto your shoulders with the guardians gone, omni-man a murderer, and now a viltrum takeover on the horizon. you were drained, physically and mentally. "i know, you need me, but invincible and atom eve and all the others are adults now. so..." you look to him and cecil stares at you, his face unreadable. "please... say something."

"(y/n)... if this is what you want, i'll do it for you." cecil sighs.

"really?" your bottom lip quivers as you hold back your relieved tears. cecil smiles slightly, reaching out to cup your face. you lean into his warmth.

"honey, i'd do anything for you."

you wash the dishes, mind wandering to your lover. cecil had come over as if knowing you had missed him. you feel his lips touch your neck as he wraps his arms your waist, "we can finish the dishes tomorrow, how about you come to bed..." his lips trace down your neck to pepper your shoulder.

you giggle at the feeling, "i'd rather get it down now, so we can sleep in tomorrow." he sighs, giving in quickly. cecil rubs your arms, massaging your biceps as you finish up. you turn in place, throwing your arms around his neck, "now, let's go have some fun."

cecil couldn't think straight, you had been missing for 4 days now. every hero was searching for you, but he couldn't do anything. all he could do was wait for the assholes to reach back out with their demands. all he could do was sit around and wait. "what the hell kind of partner am i, donald." he rubs his scar, his reminder.

"sir, we're going to find them." donald's voice is calm, but nothing could settle cecil's heart until he could see you again... alive. hours pass before the first demand comes in.

his heart burns as he sees your face, you were beaten and bloody, almost unrecognizable. "play the video." cecil's voice was thick, holding back his anger and fear. donald tries to say something, but cecil could barely contain his rage, "play the fucking video, donald."

the first second was silent before the screams started, cecil couldn't breathe, the agony and pain in your beautiful voice. you were sobbing as they started to beat you once more. "we're going to keep fucking up your pretty little hero's face until we get what we want. 10 million, a jet, and some nice...." someone whispers, "yeah! some nice machine guns too, add those in. you guys get 2 hours or we kill this bitch." someone whispers again, but the sound of a train passing covers it up. "oh yeah, bring it to-" cecil can't listen, his brain focused on you. his love, his world, you were mouthing something. the video ends with another warning.

"they're giving us the location." cecil's eyes widen. before long, the GDA had sent your location to every hero they had. you were unconscious when you were brought in and cecil couldn't rest. what if this happened again? what would he do if the next time, you couldn't help them figure out where you were? what if the next time, you were brought back in a body bag?

"mr. stedman?" the doctor looked nervous, "i did what you asked, the tracker. are you sure they want-"

"where is it in them?"

"left bicep, they won't feel anything, they won't even know its there. but... are you sure they wanted-"

"are they awake yet?" cecil didn't have time for the doctor and her moral conundrum. she nods, stepping aside for cecil. cecil stops to lean in, "if i hear you breathe a word about this to anyone, especially them, you won't live to see another day. are we clear?" she nods, shaking.

"hey neighbor!" dave smiles at you as he waters the flowers in his front garden. you wave back, grabbing the mail. "your husband left already? i wanted to meet him." dave frowns, playfully.

"oh- he's not-" you pause, "yeah, he has another work trip, unfortunately. i'll invite you and janet for dinner when he comes back!" the two of you chat for a second before you go back inside. cecil smiles, hearing you call him your husband. donald clears his throat behind him.

"what." cecil sighs, moving his attention away from the cameras in your town.

"immortal and dupli-kate want to talk to you about their retirement."

"christ, donald... fine. give me a minute..." cecil sends you a quick text 'i miss you.' "you know (y/n)'s neighbor, dave... butler. is he one of ours?"

donald taps at his tablet, "no, sir, that's one of the civilians." cecil hums, satisfied. 'i miss you too, come home soon <3'

this is unrelated to your ask, but someone asked me what they think would happen if you tried to run after figuring everything out (in the case of civi!reader but ill touch on supe!reader too cuz i love u guys)

cecil has a tracker in you. and i mean that literally. it's pretty easy to make people do things if you're the leader of the GDA lol

if you run, cecil will know. he has cameras, not only in your house, but all over the town you're in. he has all of your financial activity monitored and also this man has/had (depending on what season we're talking here) the strongest superheroes in the world following his orders

there's no where you could go that he wouldn't find you especially if you're a regular person

you could try, if you cut the tracker out of you or smth, but like... why would u... he's not hurting you or hurting your family :( he's only watching your every move and isolating you from the real world so he could be the only one who gets to be with you :((( is that so bad???

i feel like if u did run, u couldn't go to your family for help

cecil would probably reach out to them first talking abt some "mental break" and he needs to get to u first before u do something crazy

and why wouldn't they believe the kind government man that you've only ever spoken kindly about

anywho i love cecil and i want him to impregnate me WOAHHH WHO SAID THAT

[ladykissingfish]

Very Random Akatsuki Headcanons

Sasori would 100% have a garden, and most of the stuff he grows would be illegal or highly toxic. He would ask Zetsu for tips a lot and force Deidara to help him weed it even though Deidara will LOUDLY complain about it the whole time. Sasori will gently sing to/ talk to his plants when he thinks no one is looking.

Kisame the type to nag others about how important it is to drink water and stay hydrated but. He has never fully finished one single bottle of water. Any place they are, you can immediately tell that Kisame’s been there because every surface area will have plastic water bottles sitting on it with various levels of water in them.

Hidan has many, many bad teeth, mostly in the back of his mouth. Missing, chipped, cavities or straight rotting. Always in some level of pain but never seeks out help because you know, Lord Jashin encourages personal suffering. Was finally tentacle-held to a chair by Kakuzu and forced to let Sasori do what repair work he could after the others got tired of hearing him curse and grumble all night over his mouth pain. Absolutely loves his new smile afterwards but never admits it.

Every single member of the Akatsuki has at some point had a crush on Konan. Including Zetsu. But it went away once each member started seeing her as a sister or mother figure. The only one it didn’t go away for is Nagato, but he’d never admit his true feelings because he values their friendship and working relationship too much.

Itachi likes to collect rocks. He’s an amateur geologist and enjoys finding different types of stones when he’s out on missions. The others learn this about him and will sometimes take the time after missions or when traveling to pick up “pretty” rocks to bring back to him.

Deidara has a lot of anxiety and restlessness, and keeping himself busy alleviates that. He prefers doing things with his hands which is why he’s always making little sculptures with his clay. If no clay is available he’ll tap or drum his fingers on things or fiddle with his hair. The faster his fingers move it means the more anxious he feels. Sasori would get annoyed by this behavior so he created for Dei what would essentially be a ninja world version of a fidget-spinner. Deidara loved it and he makes sure to pack it with him whenever he leaves on missions.

Nagato’s fingers are often bloody because he’s a nail-biter to the extreme. He’ll chomp those things down right to the quick of the finger. The others will “gift” him gloves to try and prevent this from happening, and it’ll work for while, but sooner or later he’s right back at it again.

Deidara once gained ten pounds in two months because Tobi kept convincing him to stop at sweets cafes while they were out traveling, and then to have seconds and thirds of whatever they were eating.

Kakuzu figured out that Hidan didn’t know how to read when Hidan would avoid looking at the map on missions and kept giving Kakuzu wrong information about sign posts along roads. After a lot of convincing that he wasn’t “making fun of him”, Kakuzu finally got Hidan to let him teach him basic reading and math skills over the course of a year.

When Orochimaru was a part of the Akatsuki, one day he managed to get Konan alone and was hitting on her in a very creepy Jiraiya-esque way. Turns out that he was merely trying to get her to trust him so that, when he ultimately left the Akatsuki, he would be able to convince her to follow so he could study her body and paper-jutsu. Having had no close experiences with women other than Tsunade, who always responded favorably to flirtatious behavior, he’d assumed that this was how ALL women would react. If Itachi hadn’t driven Oro away, Konan would have blindsided and killed him first.

Nagato (in a Pein body) gave the sex talk to Deidara, Hidan and Itachi. All three of them hadn’t the slightest clue about how anything worked in that regard. Sasori gave him diagrams out of his medical books to aid in his talk. Nagato kept having to add on to his talk because of the questions. “What if you’re a guy who likes guys? How does that work?” “What if you don’t like anyone like that, or you don’t want to ever do those kind of things; is that okay?”

In strong sunlight:

Konan burns bright red.

Itachi and Hidan brown.

Zetsu withers.

Nagato dehydrates within two minutes. As does Kisame.

Deidara sprouts freckles.

Sasori smells like a fire.

Obito and his Hashirama cell DNA photosynthesize like a damn tree.

Kakuzu also turns into a freckle-factory but because his skin is already so dark, it’s unnoticeable.

Sasori has fairly moderate misophonia and especially can’t stand the sound of people chewing. It was one of his primary reasons for turning his body into a puppet; so he no longer had to endure the sound of himself eating. He thought he’d died and gone to hell when he found out that Deidara chews food with all three mouths.

Deidara likes Tobi to read to him at night. It gives him a very comfortable sleepy feeling. The more Deidara nods off the more Tobi lets his voice become more natural/Obito. This is pleasant to Obito because doing the “Tobi voice” all day puts a huge strain on his throat, so it’s nice to be able to break character once in a while and speak normally.

Hidan is extremely sensitive to the cold and will do anything to avoid having to travel or do missions in the winter.

Konan has kept a diary of her life ever since she was a child. She picked up the habit of writing during the period when Jiraiya was staying with/watching over her, Nagato and Yahiko.

Deidara developed a hell of a crush on Kakashi after “meeting” and getting his arms blown off by him and the Konoha nin. He’d gush about Kakashi for days afterward … to Tobi. Tobi who had to grit his teeth and not start screaming over how Kakashi unintentionally attracted everyone that Obito was ever interested in.

Best Smelling to Worst Smelling:

Konan

Tobi/Obito

Deidara

Kakuzu

Kisame

Zetsu

Itachi (would be higher but often smells like strong, bitter medicine and night-sweats)

Nagato (his actual body, not a Pein body)

Hidan and Sasori tie for worst because both smell like blood and corpses

Obito never killed his grandmother during the Uchiha massacre. He used a very powerful jutsu to erase her memory and then relocate her to a place in a village far away that took care of the elderly. He pays the facility with the money he earns/steals during missions, and every so often he’ll go and visit her at night, when she’s alone in her room. She doesn’t know who he is and just thinks that he’s a nice young man that’s there because he’s visiting somebody else.

Kisame loves to bake. It started because he was worried over Itachi being so thin and never seeming to want to eat anything other than desserts. So Kisame taught himself how to make cakes and pies and cookies, etc. Over time it became a zen-like activity to him that helps him relax and clear his head when he’s stressed out.

Kakuzu is as vain over his hair as Deidara is over his own. At least once a week they’ll get together and give each other trims and deep conditioning treatments. Sometimes Itachi will join if he feels up to it. Hidan mocks them for this but is secretly trying to grow his hair longer so that he can join them.

[rainrot4me]

i love your stuff so, so much! i always forget that creepypasta is a dead fandom so going to look for content on it is a literal fight

with that said, everyone always forgets about clockwork being an artist... do you have anything on her being an artist? i don't even care what at this point

AHHHHAHHAAH YES. These are copied straight my my headcannons doc I’ve had open on Nat, forgive if there are typos.

── .✦

Mixed media queen. Clockwork isn’t loyal to just one art form. She has a sketchbook filled with everything—graphite sketches, inky anatomy diagrams, charcoal-streaked pages, bits of pressed flowers taped next to journal entries. She’ll get fixated on embroidery one week and blood-red watercolor the next.

Uses art to process. She doesn’t talk much about what she went through—being tortured, changed, reborn into violence—but you can see it in her work. Shaky hands rendered in ink. A self-portrait where one eye is normal and the other is an open wound with gears blooming out of it. A girl floating underwater, peaceful, and alone.

Paints on her walls. Her room in the Mansion isn’t cutesy or edgy—it’s hauntingly beautiful. Splashes of oil paint across the wall. Tall figures with blurred-out faces. A whole corner is filled with clocks she’s half-painted and never finished, like time is melting there.

Surprisingly delicate with fine detail. Her hands may be stained with violence, but she’s so careful with a brush it’s almost reverent. Fine linework. Gentle shading. She loses herself in the tiny motions. You’d never think the same fingers that can crush a windpipe could also thread a needle or paint eyelashes.

Art is her version of crying. Nat doesn’t break down or rant or scream when things get bad. She sits down, turns off the world, and draws something with shaking fingers until it hurts less. Headphones turned all the way up, too.

Tried realism, hated it. She doesn’t want things to look “real.” She wants them to feel true. That means strange perspectives, dreamy colors, disjointed anatomy, like how memories look when they’ve been replayed too many times. The realest her art gets is in sketches of scenery or random anatomy studies she does of Toby. She has dozens of blurry, smudged sketches of Toby aiming her shotgun or asleep in the back of her truck.

Embroidery on leather jackets. Sometimes she gets hyperfixated on textiles. She’ll sew into the sleeves of her clothes: anatomical hearts, broken hourglasses, hands reaching toward each other but never touching. The texture calms her, the needle in and out. A rhythm she can control. Any excuse to patch up the tears in her jeans with pretty colors.

Art with violence woven into it. Not in a creepy edge-lord way, but in the way that says: I have seen pain. I am made of it. Let me show you, safely, on paper. There’s a sacred honesty to her darkest pieces. They say what she can’t.

Would 1000% give a handmade sketchbook as a gift. She binds it herself. Stitches the spine. Maybe even adds little doodles or notes in the margins:

“Sketched some while I was away. You can look if you want.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[min1check]

Leto! Joker x side chick! Reader ig…

1248 words

Barely proofread ts so i’m so sorry if u see errors

pt 2

Description: You work at one of Joker’s clubs and he starts to take an interest in you….

Every night there would be presents and money left on my small table in my small ass kitchen in this small ass apartment. 

It all started when I finally learned the real identity of my boss’s boss’s boss at the club I worked at. I really needed money desperately for my family who lived out of the country. I’m currently working on the papers so they can gain legal presence but until then I need to work hard and study hard. 

At the club I worked at, they paid me better than most places and I would be able to go to university in the daytime and work at night. 

The club was pretty high class, there were many high profile politicians who were VIPs. Given that they were even at a club, they were most if not all sleezebags who tried to hit on the staff to the point that I could file sexual harassment charges. But nevermind that. 

The club was so high class and full of VIPs that I didn’t expect it to be owned by the biggest crime lord in this city, the Joker. This whole city was corrupt in and out. Even if I tried to file those sexual harassment charges I would’ve been shut up instantly. 

When I saw this head of green hair and his pale deathly looking skin and his red lips that I couldn’t tell if it was lipstick or blood, I tried my best to not be noticed by him. 

Though he looked like a corpse he was extremely attractive. Maybe in another universe I would actually try to get at him. Well and if his fellow Clown Queen of Crime didn't exist. She frightens me even more than Joker. Well actually that’s a lie but as a girl I can say that we’re ruthless when it comes to boyfriends and husbands and such. Too blind and in too much love to use actual reason.

Harley’s beautiful though they genuinely look good together. 

I went over to Joker’s table where he was talking to (or more like taunting) his client to drop off the drinks. It seemed that everyone else already knew what his regular drink was and his client’s. 

I tried my best not to mess up or to not loudly drop the drinks because at this moment I could actually not stop my whole body from shaking. They continued talking about their deal without even looking at me. I kept a friendly smile on my face. 

I walked off a bit quickly because I was terrified. Yet I felt like someone was staring right at me. I quickly turned my head and all I could see in that moment was Joker with his usual devilishly grin looking straight at me. My blood ran cold. 

When I was out of his sight I closed my eyes and started to pray. 

‘Dear God, please forgive me for any sins I have committed for I do not want to die tonight. I have too much to live for so please don’t let me die. Thank you for everything you have blessed me with Lord, amen.’ 

I was crying internally. 

Literally was gonna kill myself right then and there. But I brought myself back to reality and back to work. 

Whenever I would come to work the Joker would be there with Harley. 

I literally think I’m going crazy because I think he keeps looking straight at me…. With his girlfriend/wife/partner in crime which was even worse. Yeah he was hot but cheating men are scum of the Earth. And Joker’s a mass murderer and other stuff. To be honest I kinda forgot I’ve been too busy with school to care about politics….

I finally got a shift off and a day off of school today. I’m just gonna sleep and lounge around and be fat. I got out of my bed to go get some more ice cream in my kitchen. 

It felt a bit unnerving when I was in the kitchen, like someone was watching me. I shook off the feeling because I had locks on every single window and door. The crime in my country is a bit bad so Gotham wasn’t that much different. 

As soon as I turned around to go back to my bedroom with my ice cream in hand…

“Boo!” 

“What the fuck?!” I screamed so loud that I dropped my bowl of ice cream and it shattered. 

“The look on your face doll… it’s so… funny!” The intruder was the Joker and he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop laughing at my reaction. 

“…” I just stood there in silence thinking about how that bowl was so expensive…

I didn’t want my floor to be sticky so I started picking up shards of the really expensive bowl. 

“Aww~ Are you.. mad doll~?” He teased me with his usual grin. 

“Not really, I’m just a little sad because this bowl was really expensive.” I sighed to myself. 

“If that’s it then here.” Joker tossed money at me. 

“Um… It’s okay I’ll just work for it back.” My mom always taught me that I shouldn’t accept money and that I should always offer to pay so I gave that money back to him. 

“Just take it Doll, think of it as my~ first~ gift~ to~ you~” he really emphasized on the last part like really. 

He got comfy and sat down on a table chair as I cleaned the floor from the sticky mess. 

That sounds a little wrong, I just mean my ice cream trust…

After cleaning it all, it occurred to me…

Why and how did the Joker get into my apartment…

My blood ran cold. I feel like I could turn into a reptile with how much my blood goes cold. 

“I liked seeing you at my club but I like seeing you in this shaggy apartment more.” He looked at me. 

“Um… how did you get in here?” I spoke quietly afraid I would somehow strike a nerve. 

“It was easy! I broke your window.” He spoke like he just finished climbing Mt. Everest. 

My mouth dropped to the floor. 

Like I tried to close it but it just wouldn't. 

“…” 

“What~? Cat got your tongue Doll?” He grinned. 

I’m actually going to kill myself. 

At this point I hope he pulls out the glock 19 and shoots me….

Wait but all my windows are barred up…

I looked into my living room and realized there was glass everywhere and the metal bar was stretched apart enough where it would fit the Joker perfectly. 

Calculating the cost in my head I actually started to cry. Tears ran down my face. 

I would be fine if I picked up a few extra shifts but I had to study more because finals were coming up. I’ll have to cut down on food and sleep…

The Joker awkwardly patted my back. 

“Here’s some more money Princess.” 

“I.. Cant accept it.” I said between sniffles and pushed his money back to him. 

He suddenly grabbed my head with both his hands and made me stare him in the eye. 

“Take. The. Money. Princess. Or else I’ll shove it down your throat.” His face was way too close to mine. 

“Thank you…” I tried my best to smile while he was still manhandling my head. 

He kissed me out of literally nowhere. 

My blood went cold again. 

I don’t want to be a mistress or some side bitch….

And Harley’s gonna kill me……

Yet it felt so good. 

[afsosville]

Here's the Shen Jiu addition to the PIDW x Avatar the Last Airbender AU ˚˖⋆.ೃ࿔.✧˚.💚⋆

The Luo Binghe/ge version

So, Shen Jiu being reborn as an air nomad! Let him have his well deserved peace!! Oh look, it’s a loving community that doesn’t have any hierarchies or power issues to fuck him over, and air being the element of freedom?? Fuck yes. 

ALTA lore dump and extreme self indulgence up head >>

Ideally, Shen Jiu would be reborn during Yangchen or Kyoshi’s time, coz I still need the air nomads to be, yknow, around. 

The air nomads lowkey act like a sect that practices aesthetic cultivation ( they reminds me of the Lan Clan too).

A quote >>

“The Air Temples had an expression regarding outside visitors who were shocked and disappointed by the incredible volume of chores the monks and nuns had to busy themselves with to support a few hours per day of meditation and study. Weak eyelids. Enlightenment was a muscle, and the world was too heavy for most.”

They work hard and are always studying philosophy and spirituality to seek enlightenment. Since they don’t hire people to do things, they do everything in their community themselves and depend on each other. Who knows, it could be therapeutic, and it’s not like Shen Jiu’s afraid to work hard. I think he would enjoy reading up on stuff about this new world he's in and there's access to so much knowledge and information in the air temples. He’d like travelling around to all of them. And a sky bison!!! He gets to have a fluffy sky bison of his own!! When it’s bonding day, he obviously doesn’t think any sky bison would want to choose him. Ofc he would make a terrible companion. Even great beasts are motivated by self interest, and he’d simply be a poor choice- 

Then, he sees one that’s nudging her head on his arm. She strayed away from the rest of the herd and the other kids and wandered over to the lone boy sitting by himself, who was too busy feeling sorry for his life to even notice her approaching him. He felt a tug on his soul and knew he had been picked and there was no changing that. 

Shen Jiu named her Xiyue, which means joy. Shen Jiu with a sky bison Shen Jiu with a sky bison Shen Jiu with a sky bison-

The air temples are segregated by gender, the monks live in the northern and southern air temples, and the nuns live in the eastern and western temples. Ofc all of them are traveling to wherever and staying in other temples for certain periods of time tho. Shen Jiu was originally from the northern temple but got relocated pretty quickly to the western one with his guardian once his aversion/fear of men became pretty apparent. They don’t understand just why another person who’s not the avatar has memories of a past life but they’ll make sure one of their own is cared for regardless. So now he gets to be surrounded by people who are mostly not men, and not a single person is around to judge him for it. He does go back to visit his home temple, and stays there when he’s older because he's learnt that the air temples are practically the safest of places. Pre-Sozin at least lol. I’m leaning towards this being Yangchen's time. She’s an air avatar from the western air temple and she’s unique for an avatar in the sense that she also remembers her past life. Or ten thousand of them in Yangchen’s case. 

She’ll sometimes have past avatars outright possess her and start talking or doing things as if they’re still alive. The people who know about Yangchen think it’s a gift, because she’s got the easiest access to her past lives. Lol. As if. Yangchen’s out here living through the trauma and grief of so many of her lives in the worst moments possible. The first time she went into the spirit realm, everything went to shit because one of her past lives had an intense fear of spirits and Yangchen started having an episode while the spirits were attacking her. She was with her sister, and ended up losing her on that trip :( And there was this other time, one of her past lives straight up tried to convince her to give up on humanity altogether during another episode. This was exactly what he said;

“They take with both hands, and they pay only with blame. They find your edges and then they dwell there. Work a hundred miracles? You’re worthless for not performing a hundred and one… Human beings choose their own misery, over and over again. Tell me why humanity deserves an Avatar” 

I was thinking this scene could be a character development moment for Shen Jiu, if he tries to convince her why she shouldn't give up on humanity. This seems like the kind of thing Shen Jiu himself would believe wholeheartedly, but he already spent a whole life believing that, and it didn’t do him any favours. (Yes, Shen Jiu is part of team avatar, he's the first member actually) He and Yangchen have something to bond over lol. Miserable past lives and all that. 

Also Yangchen was shrewd. She needed to engage in clandestine operations and spywork to even hope to achieve what she needed to. Guess which former Qing Jing peak lord could've helped nudge her in that direction? 

Not to mention she also knows forbidden air bending techniques (the one that Zaheer used on the Earth Queen that sucked the air out of her lungs to kill her heh). She perfected it completely and made her own variations. It's not mentioned just how Yangchen learnt of these techniques, but I imagine here that Shen Jiu had access to many of the archives and libraries (even the forbidden ones) in the four temples bc of how much he frequents them (the airbenders just like him a lot). And Yangchen knew this and asked him in which archives she could find them too. Shen Jiu is not going to teach the avatar voidbending! As if he'd risk getting in trouble with the elders and have all his access denied bc of it! *Cue Yangchen pestering Shen Jiu about it like a spoiled younger sibling and convincing him to just tell her which scrolls to look for, or else she'll tell tell the elders that he's the one who's been practicing voidbending*

It's not like he was even against teaching voidbending, he literally took it upon himself to learn and any all forbidden techniques he could get his hands on. And it's the fucking Avatar. Who would miss out on a chance to teach the Avatar?? But getting banned from the archives, or even from one of the air temples is a real fear of his soshjigl

Honestly tho, he could totally be on Kyoshi's team too. You know Kyoshi, she'd love learning those forbidden techniques too. Heck, Shen Jiu might as well be Kyoshi's airbending master in this AU.

He would totally find Wan Shi Tong's library without even trying. Idk how long it would take for him to get kicked out tho heh.

Shen Jiu would be one of those people who can easily get into the spirit world through meditating (he had a boon from having learnt cultivation in a xianxia world, that's why it would be easy for him). But since the spirit world reflects your emotions like a dream realm, Shen Jiu is not having a good time there. 

I think he'd be insanely good at metalbending if he was an earthbender further along the timeline instead. The first time we see Shen Jiu do any form of cultivation was literally him reshaping metal into a blade! Lowkey feel like drawing him in the Zaofu metalbending uniform too. He'd look good in those dfdggfdf

Remember when I said he's going to live a peaceful life? I lied. Guess what demonic tyrant's getting reborn as a waterbender? Yuh Luo Bingge's here too.

He picks up on bloodbending way too easily, and learns how to take away bending too, coz you can do that with bloodbending apparently! (Freakin Amon over here) And the moment he gets 'reacquainted' with Shen Jiu, Luo Bingge's gonna give him more shit to have nightmares over.

And he will take away Shen Jiu's bending too. And while I believe in Shen Jiu living a life of respite after going through the entirety of PIDW, it's even more fun to torture him again after he's got a brief taste of freedom.

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 7

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10 | Ep11 | Ep12)

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

ENJOY <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is there a problem?

Is something on your mind?

What's the matter?

Is something wrong?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Side quest: Protective Dad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. 2: Scent Addict

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

I think you're unwell. กูว่ามึงไม่สบายแล้วนะ [guu - wâa - mueng - mâi sà-baai - láew - ná] I - think - you - ill, unwell - already, now - [na] It really doesn't seem like you to be so sickly sweet. มึงหวานเลี่ยนแบบเนี้ยดูไม่ใช่มึงเลย [mueng - wăan lîian - bàep níia - duu - mâi châi - mueng - loiie] you - overly sweet - like this - seem, look - not - you - [particle for emphasis]

I mainly wanted to share this, because in the second sentence he uses almost the exact same wording like earlier on the garage floor when he said that Fadel didn't seem like himself:

ดูไม่เป็นมึงเลยรู้วะ [duu - mâi - bpen - mueng - loiie - rúu - wá] seem, look - not - be - you - [particle for emphasis] - know - [particle]

Compared with what he says now:

มึงหวานเลี่ยนแบบเนี้ยดูไม่ใช่มึงเลย [mueng - wăan lîian - bàep níia - duu - mâi châi - mueng - loiie] you - overly sweet - like this - seem, look - not - you - [particle for emphasis]

Again, the image Style is being presented of Fadel doesn't look like the image of Fadel that he knows and loves. Fadel laughs, says he's fine and sits down on the bed next to Style. Back in the garage, Fadel responded with "Don’t you ever think that I’m only like this because of you?" which was a truth so sufficiently sincere that it satisfied Style enough to the point to let Fadel kiss him without a protest, completely oblivious to the fact that Fadel didn't necessarily mean this truth in the way Style thought he meant it. Now in Style's room, Fadel's response to Style's accusation of not seeming like himself is similar to the one on the garage floor: "Meeting you has brought out a different side in me, is all. Didn’t you notice? I’m happier. I smile more." Again, Fadel goes for the truth. We know it's the truth because we've watched Fadel smile and laugh and just be happy whenever he was around Style ever since their conversation by the car in episode 4 that led to a change in their relationship status. We know this, and Style knows it, too. There is no need to be suspicious about this, what Fadel said makes complete sense. Style agrees: "You’re right. You were like a vicious dog before this. You even beat me up. I should get the credits for bringing out this sweet side in you."

Fun fact, Style actually doesn't want the credits himself but wants to give them to his charm specially instead:

I have to give credits to my charm for being able to pull this extreme sweetness out of you. นี่กูต้องให้เครดิตเสน่ห์กูนะ ที่ดึงความหวานเลี่ยนออกจากตัวมึงได้อ่ะ [nîi - guu - dtông - hâi - kreh-dìt - sà-nèh guu - ná • tîi - deung - kwaam wăan lîian - òk - jàak - dtuua meung - dâai - àh] [interjection] - I - have to - give - credits - my charm - [particle] • that - pull, draw - overly sweet sweetness - out - from - your body - be able to - [particle]

Fadel laughs and throws his arms around Style, resting his chin on Style's upper arm. But Style feels stinky after having worked on a car and really doesn't want to be hugged right now because it's kinda gross. Fadel doesn't care, though, and just starts smelling Style on purpose. In Fadel's opinion, Style doesn't smell bad. In fact, Fadel likes Style's smell. Or at least that's what Fadel claims, because Style just can't imagine it to be true. He jokes that Fadel must really be unwell if he likes the smell of gasoline. Style informs Fadel that you can get addicted to that and Fadel responds that he thinks he's already addicted, then. Style smiles fondly. Fadel says he hella likes it to the point that no doctor anywhere can cure it:

I like it very much. โคตรชอบเลย [kôht chôp loiie] extremely, very much - like - [particle for emphasis] Like this, no doctor anywhere can cure it. แบบเนี่ย หมอที่ไหนก็รักษาไม่ได้ [bàep nîia • mŏh - têe năi - gôh - rák-săa - mâi - dâai] like this • doctor - anywhere, somewhere - [sentence link] - cure, treat - not - be able do

What I love about this whole bit is that Style keeps complaining and keeps questioning Fadel's sense of smell, but he still lets Fadel hug him and smell him without trying to shake him off in any way. And ultimately, he is also charmed that Fadel is still so into him, even when he himself feels so dirty and smelly and gross:

(↑ This is Style's face in reaction to Fadel saying he's addicted to the smell of gasoline aka Style's smell, btw. Look at him smiling and leaning closer. This absolutely worked on him.)

Now, the question that we, the audience, get to ask ourselves is just how much of what Fadel is saying and doing here is for show and how much of this is genuine on Fadel's part. Personally, I do think all of the kisses and his opinions on Style's smell come from a genuine place and Fadel just takes what's already there and plays it up a lot more than he usually would. It's both genuine and ingenuine at the same time. In a way, it's also almost as if he's also trying to use the opportunity to get as much out of it for himself as well while he still can. In any case, from the moment he sat down on the bed, Fadel is definitely being more genuine and sincere than compared to earlier at the garage. And Style also reacts to Fadel's behavior differently. In the garage he kept trying to push Fadel away, kept asking him question to get to the bottom of things. But now, especially after Fadel has truthfully pointed out how he's gotten happier and has started smiling more because of Style, Style lets Fadel get closer again. Style still looks confused and skeptical when Fadel hugs him, and while he does lean away from Fadel a little when Fadel gets close, he doesn't try to push him off immediately. It takes over half a minute before he finally wiggles in Fadel's arms and insists on showering for the first time. And when Fadel then just continues to shower him with kisses, Style doesn't try to push him away like he did in the garage, nor does he try to get his own body away from Fadel in any way. He doesn't even try to wiggle his way out again when he repeats that he's gonna take a shower. What's more, back in the garage, Style also kept asking Fadel questions to find out what the hell had suddenly gotten into him, but now, even though it definitely registers that Fadel is clingier than usual, Style is still reassured enough to go along with it and to have flirty banter about being addicted to the smell of gasoline instead of interrogating Fadel about his behavior. Style isn't really pushing Fadel away this time, but goes along with it, not just in letting Fadel shower him with kisses for a significant amount of time or in taking part in the flirty banter, but also later in complying when Fadel asks for kisses. Style even leans a little closer to Fadel when he asks "Happy now?" after obeying to Fadel's wish. And of course Style is still weirded out about Fadel's uncharacteristically clingy behavior, but I think when they're sitting on the bed it's happening more on a subconscious level and his main concern really is that he is gross and stinky and just wants to go get cleaned up already.

And so he tells Fadel just that. That he'll go take a shower. But instead of letting Style go, Fadel just goes back to sniff kissing Style's arm. Style tries again. Fadel stares at him for a moment, then points at both of his own cheeks. Fine. If that is the price Style has to pay for Fadel letting him go take a shower, Style will gladly pay it in full. Style makes sure Fadel is completely satisfied now, even dropping a "krub" on him:

Happy? You happy, krub? พอใจมั้ย พอใจมั้ยครับ [poh-jai - mái • poh-jai - mái - kráp] be satisfied, content, pleased - ? • be satisfied, content, pleased - ? - [krub]

(German speakers: พอใจ [poh-jai]​ has the same vibe as "zufrieden" to me.)

Fadel finally releases him and Style gets up. But he doesn't get very far before Fadel catches his hand and holds him back. Style turns back around, laughs, and is affectionately annoyed. There really does seem to be something going on with Fadel and Style directly calls him out, questioning him again:

Why are you being so cutesy today? ทำไมวันนี้อ้อนจังเลยอ่ะ [tam-mai - wan-níi - ôhn - jang loiie - àh] why - today - cutesy - so much - [particle] Official subs: You're so weird today.

The word that Style uses here that I phrased as "cutesy" is อ้อน [ôn] which was explained to me as acting a certain cutesy way because you want something from the other person (which can also be something like simply just wanting affection). In the words of my friend, the mood this word conveys is basically "a cat rubbing up against you". And it makes sense for Style to call out Fadel for being so overly clingy and affectionate when Fadel has never really been that way with him before.

To Style's surprise, instead of being more clingy and affectionate (or asking to join Style in the shower, which I personally was expecting to happen), Fadel asks him on a date the next day. Fadel then reveals that it'll be Bison's birthday and Style wants to buy him a present, but Fadel says Style doesn't have to. That it's Kant's duty. Style should buy something for Fadel instead. Style asks on which day his birthday is and Fadel tells him it's on Christmas. Style loves that and tells him: "Lucky you. That’s a good day to be born on. I'll be your Santa Claus sneaking in your house and leaving a present for you." Fadel wants to know what that present will be. Style doesn't say anything, just looks at Fadel for a moment before he leans forward and plants a kiss onto Fadel's lips. When he looks at Fadel afterwards, his expression is full of adoration:

It's as Style's dad said: when Style loves someone, he really truly does. With all of his heart. And that heart full of love is exactly what he will give to Fadel. Fadel laughs. Style's smile widens a tiny bit*. He's in love. Then he turns around, making sure he gets his face just a liiittle bit closer to Fadel's while he turns, and then finally makes it to his shower.

*see second image above

Style can't see the way Fadel's expression darkens after Style has walked away.

No. 3: I Know You Don't Know I Know

The date turns out to be a BB gun war. Of course the lovebirds have teamed up boyfriends vs. boyfriends. Style is in the middle of firing a few shots towards the other team when Fadel stops him. Style tells him that he can handle the enemy himself, but Fadel says Kant has to go through him first. Then he makes a very shady comment: "He started all this, after all." Style squints at Fadel, alarmed and confused.

That's weird. Fadel isn't supposed to know this. Style asks for clarification and Fadel elaborates: "Because he hit on my brother, you got to know me." Or in his actual wording, because I'm having too much fun with this:

Ai'Kant came to hit on my little brother and you came to hit on me. ไอ้กานต์มาจีบน้องกู แล้วมึงก็มาจีบกู [âi Kant - maa - jìip - nóng guu • láew - meung - gôr - maa - jìip - guu] Ai'Kant - come - hit on - my little brother • and - [sentence link] - come - hit on - me

Fadel then repeats that this is how Kant started it and subtly throws Style a challenge: "What did you think I mean?" Or also:

What were you thinking (of/about)? มึงคิดอะไรเนี่ย [mueng - kít - à-rai - nîia] you - think - what - [particle]

While this sure is plausible, Style still isn't very reassured. It seems like a weird time to bring this up, especially with Fadel having acted very out of character the day before. Not to mention, why would Fadel pull a correlation between Kant hitting on Bison and Style hitting on Fadel? For all Fadel should know, him and Style first met when Style crashed into Fadel's car. There is no reason for Style's flirting to be related to Kant hitting on Bison in any way. But Style can't exactly tell Fadel all that, so he brushes Fadel's question off, saying he wasn't thinking of anything. Then he brings the topic back around to their war game: "But you gotta let me play, too." Now here I do desperately need to share Style's actual words, because we've got something very interesting going on here:

But let me take a shot some time, too. แต่มึงให้กูยิงบ้างดิ [dtàe - mueng - hâi - guu - ying - bâang - dì] but - you - let - me - shoot - some - [particle]

(Alt. translations": "But let me shoot some too." or "But let me take some shots.")

Style doesn't just wanna play the game, no, he actively wants to take a shot himself. Might that be foreshadowing? Will Style be shooting someone at some point? If this was a video essay, I would now put a counter in a corner that takes note of every time there is a reference to Style shooting a gun this episode.

Style says Fadel doesn't have to act like his bodyguard all the time and then leans closer to tell Fadel: "I know you’re good at this. But I ain’t no loser, either." There is a lot of weight to Style's words, he really means what he says. This is important to him. He wants to be able to stand his own ground, too. Although, it's actually kind of ironic that Style says this. We all saw how he did in that fight at the host club in episode 3. But then again, maybe watching Fadel take on three grown men on his own while being completely useless in the situation himself has kicked Style into determination to be able to fight for himself alongside Fadel, especially once he found out about Fadel's hitman identity. Or maybe he's played a lot of BB gun war games before and is actually good with guns, but is simply just useless in a fist-fight.

Anyway, this time it's Style who's said something that suspiciously alludes to something that Style actually in reality should not know. He doesn't know that Fadel now knows Style knows and so when Fadel calls him out on it, Style is caught a little off-guard. "How’d you know I’m good at this?", Fadel asks. It's a very pointed question, a suspiciously specific question. Style stutters for a moment before he comes up with a plausible reason: "I can tell from how you hold your gun. It’s obvious you’re a professional." Without Style's knowledge his word choice betrays him again. Right after the words are out of Style's mouth, Fadel suddenly leans over to fire some shots at the other team past Style's shoulder (part of me wonders, if Fadel really did need to shoot right then and there or if he just did it for the dramaaa~~~), then grills Style some more: "Professional what?" Now, here's a the literal translation of how this conversation goes:

S: Just from that I already know you're a professional. รู้เเค่นี้ก็รู้ว่ามึงมืออาชีพ [rúu - kâe née - gôh - rúu wâa - mueng - meu aa-chîip] know - just that - [sentence link] - know that - you - professional F: What profession? อาชีพอะไร [aa-chîip - a-rai] profession, occupation - what

There is definitely something not right here with the way Fadel is phrasing his questions. With the way he is explicitly asking Style to state what Fadel's occupation is, an occupation through which one would gain expertise in how to hold and shoot guns. "What profession?" This is not a genuine question, it's a challenge. Does Fadel know anything that Style doesn't know?

Again Style takes a while to answer, searching Fadel's face for any hints before he says "Professional BB gun shooter."

Fadel laughs and finally stops grilling Style with questions he can't yet answer truthfully. Instead, Fadel drops a cheesy line on him. "I can’t help but get protective over my boyfriend." Although I feel like the Thai version sounds a bit less cheesy (at least the English translation of it, I forgot to ask my friend about the connotations in Thai):

I have a habit of looking after my boyfriend. กูติดนิสัยดูแลแฟน [guu - dtìt ní-săi - duu-lae - faen] I - have a habit (of) - looking after, taking care of - boyfriend

Then, Fadel takes up on Style's wish to get some shots in as well and suggests Style watches his back, telling him not to let anyone shoot Fadel. Style still looks at Fadel with that searching look on his face. Fadel is clearly playing at something, but Style can't figure out what exactly that is. Then Fadel hits him with another pointed question:

I can trust you, right? กูไว้ใจมึงได้ใช่ป่ะ [guu - wái-jai - mueng - dâai - châi bpà] I - trust - you - can - right? Official subs: Can I trust you to do that?

Style still doesn't answer immediately, but instead of question marks, there is now determination in his face. This is a question he can firmly answer from the bottom of his heart. "Yeah. You can trust me." Fadel acknowledges it, but then waves his BB gun at Style in a subtle threat: "Don't let me down." The message certainly reaches Style clear as day. He doesn't say anything, instead just searches Fadel's face again for answers he can't find.

Fadel gets up and throws himself back into the battle. Style stays put and watches him run off. Style squints a little as he stares after Fadel.

Something was very much not right about this conversations. Fadel's questions were too specific, too threatening even at certain points. Fadel is clearly onto something but Style just can't find the missing puzzle piece that would explain Fadel's recent behavior or all his probing questions. This isn't really the time to dwell on this, though, so after a moment Style gets back to playing as well.

The very first thing we see of Style next after Style says Fadel can trust him is Style shooting Kant in the back, which has me wondering if he will end up metaphorically shooting Kant in the back in a future episode. The "Style + guns" counter is up to 2. Style tells Kant "Love sure makes you do something stupid" which has got to be foreshadowing (exactly what stupid things are gonna be happening out of love?? 👀) and then Fadel walks over, puts his arm around Style's shoulder and brags about him. Style looks at Fadel, his expression content and pleased as they stand there arm in arm. Style got his shots in. He did Fadel proud. He did not let him down.

No. 4: The Power of Love

Now this scene is very interesting, because it's like Style does a complete 180. From the way he talks you'd think he's entirely forgotten how he's called out Fadel for behaving weird and saying weird things in literally every single scene from this episode so far. You'd think he's forgotten how Fadel was suspiciously dodging most of his questions on the garage floor. You'd think he's forgotten about how uncharacteristically sickly sweet and clingy Fadel was when he stayed in Style's bedroom. You'd think he's forgotten about how only earlier that day they were dancing around the topic of Fadel's true identity and how Fadel kept challenging and even subtly threatening him. What happened to the Style that was so very skeptical and suspicious of Fadel all episode?

Now, I think everything Style is saying here makes complete sense for his character. Style has always been a character full of optimism and hope (showcased perfectly well in episode 6) and especially in scenes with Kant he has often been the optimistic counterpart to Kant's pessimism and realism: When Kant was worried about James, Style suggested that James could simply just be out of town. When the Captain was about to arrest the brothers, Style figured the brothers would be free as soon as their boss was caught before Kant reminded him that that's not how it works in real life. When Kant and Style stood in front of closed restaurant doors, Style reminded Kant of and held onto how attached the brothers were to them. Now in the showers, when Kant voices his suspicions, Style is overly confident and optimistic again.

Style tells Kant "you think too much" when Style has done nothing but think a lot in all his scenes with Fadel so far. And all his thinking shows in the way he immediately has counter-arguments ready without even thinking about it. Style has been through all of this in his head already. I don't think that Style is necessarily actively talking himself into believing what he says, because his mood is too good for that and what he says sounds a bit too genuine for it to be addressed to himself. I think this really is the hope within him talking. And, frankly, also his confidence. I mean, look at the two of them. Who wouldn't quit their assassin job to be with them? Style and Kant are that awesome. Style fully believes that. And he fully believes in the power of love.

What was the thing that Style's dad again? When Style loves, he does truly does with all his heart. Style loves so sincerely, so intensely that of course it would feel powerful. Of course there is power in love. Of course it can turn a bad guy good. Why wouldn't it? Fadel went from a grumpy cat to someone who constantly smiles around Style because of Style's love. Fadel wore the matching couple shirts because of Style's love. Fadel danced and sang karaoke in public because of Style's love. Fadel wore fan make-up in public because of Style's love. Why wouldn't Fadel stop killing because of and for Style's love? And why would the same thing not go for Bison and the love Kant has for him? I know there've been some entertaining posts going around making fun of how Style puts killing people on the same level as stealing cars, but that's just genuinely how Style thinks. Because Style doesn't draw a comparison in which one is worse. Both are simply bad. Both, Kant and Bison did bad things. They can connect over that. And the power of love will fix things.

Just like in episode 6, Style refuses to just sit there in misery. He refuses to be stressed as long as there is still a small glimmer of hope that things end well. Yes, Fadel has been acting weird, but until Style has definite proof that something is indeed extremely wrong, he'll go and enjoy life. As long as there is still a positive, plausible explanation or a positive way out, he'll go and enjoy life. There could be something wrong, but there doesn't have to be and so Style chooses to hold onto the thought that there isn't anything wrong for now until proven otherwise. And with that energy, he goes bowling that same night.

No. 5: Eventful Evening

The four of them round off Bison's birthday with a double date at the bowling alley. Style is in the bestest of moods. Kant and Bison walk off for some bowling. Fadel and Style stay back at the table and watch from a distance as Kant hands Bison his birthday present. Style is impressed at how romantic Kant is is being. Style could never. And now that I think about it, that actually seems to be true. Style has been romantic towards Fadel, but from the top of my head I can't remember a single instance in which Style pulled a pre-planned and prepared romantic gesture on Fadel. But that's okay. Because Fadel likes Style exactly the way he is. And Style is cool with that. He continues to say: "But you know, maybe I get like that, too. I could spring a ring on you one day and just ask you to marry me."

You never know! Fadel reacts fondly. Style throws him another happy smile. They both go to take a sip of their beer. Out of the blue, Style starts choking and ends up on the couch. Fadel panics. Style springs a ring on him and goes: "Will you marry me?"

Pronoun time! For just this one sentence, for just the marriage proposal Style switches to the polite phom pronoun before he jumps back to the rude guu pronoun:

แต่งงานกับผมนะครับ [dtàeng ngaan gàp - pŏm - ná - kráp] marry - me - [na] - [krub]

Now, at this point I sincerely need to apologize to those who read my ep6 meta before I went ahead and edited it because I made a really big mistake: I completely forgot to mention a very important language note in a specific scene because there was so much else going on that scene and it was only when I watched the cast reaction to ep6 that it hit me. I have since edited my meta post and added it, but if you missed it let me tell you there is a word play I failed to mention in the scene where Fadel puts make-up on Style: you know when Style says "Then you should put some makeup on, too"? The word he uses here is แต่ง [dtàeng], which is used in the sense of แต่งหน้า [dtàeng nâa] which means "to put make-up on" or is also used in the sense of แต่งงาน [dtàeng ngaan] which means, well, "to get married" or "to marry". In Thai, Style leaves out the second part of the phrase that makes it explicit which of the two it is and so the sentence can be heard either as "So, will you put on make-up with me?" or as "So, will you marry me?"

And it's just veeeery interesting that Style asks Fadel to marry him for the second episode in a row. If it happens again next episode, I'm calling it. But for now, let's wait and see 👀

Style is absolutely delighted that his little prank actually worked on Fadel: "You’re usually too smart for me." Fadel stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head, sighs, and replies: "Not at all. I’m a damn fool. That’s how you got me."

And fun fact: when he says "That's how you got me", in Thai the word that was translated as "got" is หลอก [lòhk] which means "to trick" or "to deceive". Style tricked Fadel. And we know Fadel definitely isn't referring to just the marriage proposal alone. As perceptive as Style has been all episode about Fadel's weird behavior, now the double meaning slips right by him. Personally, I think it's because at this point he's too tipsy to pay attention to this and he's also too good in a mood to care. Besides, he's already decided to be optimistic about Fadel's behavior. Style grins at Fadel, slips the ring back onto his own finger, then holds out his hand to Fadel and looks up at him. With an eye roll, Fadel obliges and pulls Style up onto his feet. Style then excuses himself to go to the restroom.

Style is so tipsy, he is about to fall asleep at the urinal when a random guy he doesn't know walks in and strikes up a conversation with him. Now, I think the whole thing about "We gotta keep these good things, don’t you think? People don’t seem to appreciate antiques anymore" is definitely alluding to something, but we're gonna have to keep watching to find out. And Style certainly wouldn't know, after all he doesn't know this dude. The guy walks into one of the cubicles and honestly, considering the ensuing interaction between Fadel and Style, I think Style is drunk enough that this didn't even fully register with him or maybe he just immediately forgets about it the moment Fadel walks in.

Style is quite surprised to see Fadel enter the restroom as well, but is also very happy about it: "Did you miss me so much you had to follow me to the bathroom?" This thought excites Style. Then Fadel asks about the other guy and starts looking through the stalls. Fadel's behavior is kinda weird again, but I think this time around Style really is too drunk to properly take note of it and connect it with Fadel's secret life. And as mentioned before, Style has decided to focus on the positives and not to stress unless given a solid reason to do so. And so for a moment Style observes Fadel checking the stalls before pushing Fadel against the wall and asking if he is jealous. When Fadel finally says yes, Style huffs a little, looking kinda pleased. And I can't help but think of @secriden's post about how back in episode 5 when Style said "I hope you're not the jealous type like your brother is" his body was saying the exact opposite of his words. And let me just share @braceletofteeth's tag on that very post too, while I'm at it:

#Style wants Fadel to claim him as his so bad it makes him look stupid #just like he takes pride in choosing his own man #he would be proud to be chosen as Fadel's man #delighted‚ if Fadel let others (and Style) know he's the one who earned the space reserved for his special someone #in his heavily secured heart #if he was so special to Fadel that he wouldn't want him to be taken away #or to share him with anyone else

I think we can really see this here in this scene as well. Fadel claims he's jealous and from Style's POV is in search for the random dude in order to take it up with him and defend his position as Style's boyfriend and that thought immediately has Style horny for Fadel. He advances on Fadel, trapping him against the wall on one side and goes on a monologue about how he only has Fadel now. The thought of Fadel being jealous has Style so horny for Fadel, he's ready to hook up with him right then and there in the bathroom stall. By now, Style has most definitely gotten too distracted and as a result forgotten that the random dude from earlier is still there. Lucky for Keen, Fadel declines and leaves the bathroom. Style stays back for a moment, watches him walk away, licks his lips and then follows him out.

Side note: Okay, so over my previous metas I've been very clear about how I think that Style isn't the kind of person to enjoy sleeping around all that much (at least not as much as Kant does). And in my ep3 meta I said that I think Style enjoys flirting around much more than sleeping around, attention hoe and chatty cat that he is. Now here in the bathroom, when he says that he only has Fadel now that of course could be taken as Style hooks up with many people. However, what he says right before that strengthens my belief that Style much rather flirts than actually hooks up: "I know I’m cute and all that. It’s only normal people strike up a conversation." Style never shuts up. And flirting? Hitting on someone? Is typically done via talking. So of course he'll engage with people striking up a conversation. And also, Style calls himself cute. I mean, I'm ace so I wouldn't know, but if you wanna end up in bed with someone wouldn't you like them to consider you "hot" or "sexy" rather than "cute"? At least that's how I'm imagining it that it goes (allos feel free to share some personal experience that I'm lacking). Anyway, yeah. I think, Style very much enjoys the whole flirting part. After all, that'll give him both attention as well as an excuse to talk.

Edit: FUCK, I JUST REMEMBERED THAT STYLE ACTUALLY HAS SEEN KEEN BEFORE IN EP3 WHEN HE EAVESDROPPED ON THEIR CONVERSATION!! That, of course, changes things significantly. I'm currently very busy working on my ep8 meta, but I'm gonna have to go back at some point and rethink this scene from the viewpoint of Style knowing that Keen has something to do with Fadel.

When Fadel and Style return from the bathroom, to Style's surprise he finds Kant with a kid. Style immediately walks over to say hello. I've seen discussions and headcanons on Style potentially helping Kant raise Babe. So far we saw Babe and Style in a scene together only one single time and they didn't even interact, so we don't really know what Style's relationship with Babe is like, but it certainly is quite likely that Style is an honorary older brother or uncle to Babe. Another thing I'm thinking is that Style probably also simply just likes kids. He is very excited and motivated to interact with the kid and I'm wondering if Style would like to have children of his own some time. After all, he did seem very open to the idea of being impregnated by Fadel back in episode 4.

But from one moment to the next his happy little interaction is interrupted by an unexpected gun shot. Some guy is waving around a gun and screaming bloody murder over his (ex) girlfriend. Style stays with Kant and the kid. That is, until Fadel claims to be the girl's new boyfriend. Maybe you've already seen a post about Style's outcry going around, but if you haven't, then let me just explain what Style literally says when he goes "Take it back!"

ผัวเค้าเหี้ยอะไร [pŭua - káo - hîia - àrai] husband - her - fuck, damn - what

Now, several things here: the characters use the word ผัว [pŭua] which is a slang term for "husband" which is also used in the sense of "boyfriend" (meaning, as far as I've picked up on the word doesn't mean that the people are married for real, though I might be wrong about this). In the following I'll use "man", because "husband" sounds too formal and "hubby" also sounds kinda weird in this context. Next, the word เหี้ย [hîia] is a curse word kinda like "fuck/fucking" or "shit" or "damn". Word for word the Thai sentence makes "her man fuck what" (alt.: "her man fucking what"). The sentiment of it is roughly:

Her man, my ass.

The fuck you on about, her man??

Her man, the fuck??

Her man, fuck no.

What the fuck, her man??

Take your pick. Style is very upset about this, even if rationally he knows that Fadel is doing it do protect the girl from being murdered. But in his drunken state and this being a life-or-death situation, he reacts emotionally instead (which tends to be his main route even when he's sober anyway, it's just worse now). This brings us back to: Style wants Fadel to claim him as his so bad it makes him look stupid (quoted from @braceletofteeth). Only minutes ago Style was excited at the prospect of Fadel being jealous and fighting for him and now here Fadel is, claiming someone else as his in a hall full of people. It stings, even if it's just pretend. Fadel is his boyfriend, thank you very much. Style's had to work hard, fight hard to even get to this position and he's not gonna let anyone, not even Fadel himself, take that away from him, goddammit. "Her man, the fuck?? You're MY boyfriend!!" But Kant pulls Style back down, worried about Style's safety. Style lets it go.

In the meantime, the assassin brothers are working on taking the shooter down and each gets hurt in the process. Both Kant and Style run to their respective boyfriends. Fadel shoos Style away, though, ordering him to check on Bison first. Style looks up and with terror realizes that the shooter isn't being checked on and could cause more harm at any moment. Style jumps to his feet and runs to the gun, picks it up and shoves it into the shooter's face without any hesitation. And that's a 3 on our "Style + guns" counter. Three times is a pattern, no?

Now, I've seen people wondering if Style maybe has some experience with guns from the way he confidently pointed it at the man. It could be a possibility (after all he seemed to have a handle on the BB guns as well), but I think a big reason why he reacted like this is that Style simply just likes to help and tends to act like a mediator (when he's not actively picking the fights himself). His reaction here really reminds me of the way he also threw himself into the fist fight at the host club, despite being a terrible fighter and standing no chance against those men. He sees that the situation is dangerous and his main desire is that it is resolved with as little harm being caused as possible. Style isn't really thinking here in this moment (in the sense of that he's actively using his brain). He acts on instinct and his instinct is telling him to keep the gun away from the shooter and to make sure the guy doesn't cause any more harm. Style's desire to protect his loved ones is so strong he doesn't even have the capacity to think about what he's doing here and whether he is even capable of shooting the gun in the first place and what that could potentially do to his mental state if he shoots (and possibly kills) someone. There is only "MUST PROTECT" going on in his mind. Finally, staff drags the dangerous man away. Style calls an ambulance at Kant's request.

No. 6: Signs (Of Worries)

In the process of taking down the shooter and saving the two women, Fadel hurt his arm and is now getting it treated at the hospital. And of course, Style is right by his side. As soon as the nurse is gone, Style starts asking Fadel worried questions. When Fadel claims that it doesn't hurt, Style is a little bit done with Fadel's constant need to pretend: "Just admit when it hurts. You don’t have to be tough all the time." Style loves Fadel, Style wants to be there for Fadel through the good times and even more so through the bad times. And especially in the bad times he doesn't want to spend the entire time having to guess how his boyfriend is doing, how his boyfriend is feeling. He wants to be a safe space for Fadel to be open and vulnerable. And just to hit the message home he tells Fadel out loud to make sure Fadel really doesn't miss it or can't ignore it: "I’m worried about you, you know? I thought you were a goner." Actually, in Thai he's more vague about it, he doesn't say that he was afraid of Fadel dying specifically:

I was afraid something would happen to you. กลัวมึงเป็นไรไปอ่ะ [gluua - mueng - bpen rai - bpai - àh] afraid - you - have a problem - [particle]

Also, he doesn't say he was "worried", he says he was "โคตร [kôht] worried". โคตร [kôht] is an intensifier, so basically Style is saying he is "super worried", not just "worried".

Fadel shoots him down, telling him not to overdo it. But Style isn't!!! He just watched his boyfriend go through a situation that could have potentially killed him if something had gone wrong. Not to mention, said boyfriend's brother is now lying at the very same hospital with a stab wound, because something went wrong. Style has every right to make a big deal out of it, because it is. To him it is. With worried puppy eyes he continues to say: "Can you please at least give me a sign before you do something like that again? I’m always here to help."

I want to share a more literal translation again, not because the content differs but because there's something about the original phrasing that I like:

Next time you're gonna do something, give me a sign. ทีหลังมึงจะทำอะไรอ่ะก็ส่งสัญญาณดิ [tii lăng - mueng - jà - tam - àrai - àh - gôh - sòng - săn-yaan - dì] next time - you - will - do - something - [sentence link] - send - signal - [particle] I'm always ready to help you. กูพร้อมช่วยมึงเสมออยู่แล้ว [guu - próm - chûuay - mueng - sà-mĕr - yùu - láew] I - ready - help - you - always - [aux] - already

I like that the first sentence is phrased like an imperative, not a question. Of course, in this moment Style is asking Fadel to do something specific, but the question is only implied. It's not a "Can you please do this?". No, it's a "Do this!", instead. It's an order. And what I find even more interesting (which we have in the translation too) is that Style doesn't say "Please don't do this again". He isn't keeping Fadel from doing dangerous things. Fadel is allowed to do them. But Style requires a sign first. A warning. A little heads-up so that he can mentally prepare. And even more so that he can help Fadel. "I'm always ready to help", he says. He is not just here to help but he is ready to jump to his feet at a moment's notice and help Fadel no questions asked.

He waits for Fadel to say something. Fadel asks about Bison. Style informs him that Kant is with Bison and Fadel starts to get up, saying he'll stay the night with his brother and orders Style to go home. Style has been sent home by Fadel many, many times before, so he is used to this. However, back then it was before they were a couple and Fadel sending Style away always made sense, because Style was in fact annoying Fadel and Style was aware of that fact. But now it's different, because now Fadel genuinely enjoys Style's presence and Style know that fact, too. And as always, Style won't let Fadel get rid of him so easily and so he holds Fadel back and starts questioning him about his weird behavior again: "What’s with you? You were so lovey-dovey an hour ago." Then he leans closer and takes Fadel's face between his hands, asking: "Is your brain okay? Did you hit your head?" And while the words Style is saying are certainly meant to be a joke, the sentiment behind them is 10000% serious. Something is not right with Fadel, something hasn't been right with Fadel since the day before, actually and lowkey even since the love confession at the diner. Style genuinely wants to know what's going on with Fadel. That's not a joke, there is nothing funny about this, even if he is phrasing it in a light-hearted way.

But Fadel shakes him off and moves to walk away again. Now Style gets stressed. There is absolutely no way he is leaving Fadel's side right now. He holds him back and yields, offering to take Fadel to Bison. Then he runs off to grab a wheelchair and maneuvers Fadel into it. Fadel humors him and Style wheels him off.

Bison is still sleeping when they arrive at his room. Kant gives them the update on Bison's health. Fadel announces once again that he'll stay with Bison overnight. Style is against it and comes up with sensible reasons why Fadel shouldn't. Fadel's arm is hurt and Style wants him to go home and rest. Fadel's well-being is a priority for Style right now. Kant can take care of Bison for a while, it's fine. Fadel can and should take a break and recover a little bit. Finally, Fadel agrees, even if he's not very happy with the situation. But despite him yielding to Style, he does speak out a warning to Kant: "But while I’m gone, if something happens to my brother, it’s your fault." The last sentence is even more direct in Thai:

You must take responsibility. มึงต้องรับผิดชอบ [mueng - dtông - ráp-pìt-chôp] you - must - take responsibility, be responsible

Fadel isn't just telling him that he will be blaming Kant for Bison's disappearance, but he's saying "You will be taking responsibility for his disappearance, you will pay for it". It's a threat. And in Thai, Style actually acknowledges that Fadel's words are a threat when he stands up for Kant:

And why are you threatening Ai'Kant? แล้วมึงจะไปขู่ไอ้กานต์ทำไม [láew - mueng - jà - bpai - kùu - âi - Kant - tam-mai] and - you - will - go - threaten - [prefix] - Kant - why, what for Official subs: Don’t give Kant a hard time, dude. Kant didn't do anything wrong. การต์ไม่ได้ผิดอะไรเลยนะ [Kant - mâi dâai - pìt - à-rai - loiie - ná] Kant - not - be/do wrong - anything, something - [particle] - [na] Official subs: None of this is his doing.

There is no reason for Fadel to threaten Kant when Kant was in no way involved with the insane man at the bowling alley that attacked Bison. Kant promises he'll take good care of Bison. Fadel just sits there wordlessly. Then, without a warning he gets up and walks out. Style calls after him: "Do you have to be so stubborn?" which in Thai is actually:

You're hurt and you're still stubborn?! เจ็บแล้วยังดื้ออีก [jèp - láew - yang - dêu - èek] hurt - and - still - stubborn - (once) more

I wanted to share this because I wanted to draw attention to how Style mentions Fadel being hurt again even when Style is complaining about his behavior. Fadel's injury is still very much on Style's mind. He just wants to take care of Fadel and be there for him. And so he runs after Fadel.

No. 7: Heed My Warning

Style follows Fadel into the hallway and tries to convince him to get back into the wheelchair again and to let Style take him home. But again Fadel tries to get rid of him: "I can walk. Just go back to your garage." Something is seriously not right about Fadel's behavior. Style looks at him searchingly, trying to figure him out:

Then he steps closer to Fadel and continues his fight. "I know you can. But boyfriends are supposed to take care of you at a time like this." I just want you to know that when he says "in times like this" the literal translation is something like "when you're sick and hurt":

ตอนเจ็บตอนป่วย [dton - jèp - dton - bpùuay] when - hurt - when - sick

Fadel is hurt and Style is worried and he just wants to look after his boyfriend, goddammit. But instead, Style is met with a warning: "Once my brother gets better, we have some business to finish with you two."

The word Fadel uses here for "finish" in Thai is สะสาง [sà-săang] which the dictionary translates as "to clear up" or "to solve" and my friend who I asked about this word defined as:

to finish something and leave nothing unfinished

Yeah, Fadel is out for murder and he's gonna make damn well sure the job will be done properly and to the end. The sentiment reaches Style. He's confused. Where is this threat suddenly coming from? "What are you talking about? Sounds scary as hell." Fadel agrees. He repeats what he's tried to tell Style before, except this time the warning serves as a threat, a direct attack: "You should probably be wary of me." Style looks taken aback. Fadel continues his threat: "Whatever act we’ve put on up until now won’t be necessary anymore." Then, Fadel walks off. Style watches him go, speechless and alarmed. He gulps, not once, but twice.

The time for optimism and hope is over. Style has to face it: something is worryingly wrong with the way Fadel has been acting. Once back at his garage, he sits and thinks about Fadel's words again. Fadel knows something, but Style just can't figure out what exactly that something is. He grabs his phone and calls Kant, presumably to discuss the conversation with him and to warn him and to make sure Kant is safe. Kant doesn't pick up. Style has a really bad feeling about this.

No. 8: The Naked Truth

It's the next day and Style is back at the hospital. He doesn't even make it to Bison's room before he is stopped in his tracks. The police is here. Style stops a nurse and learns that Bison has kidnapped Kant. Style hides in the restroom to call Kant. Kant still isn't picking up. This is very very bad. But before Style can take action, someone grabs him from behind. Only seconds later, Style falls unconscious. Headcanons are out on whether Style could tell it was Fadel who attacked him by the feel of his body or not.

When Style wakes up, he finds himself tied up at a pool wearing no clothes save for his underwear. As most people in this situation would probably do, Style starts calling for help. And what's interesting is that he doesn't really seem panicky about it when he initially starts shouting. It's more concern than fear. It's only towards the end once it starts to sink in for him that he really does seem to be completely alone that the fear sets in. Except then he hears a familiar voice: "Stop shouting and shut up. No one can hear you here."

When Style asks what Fadel is doing and why he tied him up half-naked, Style's voice sounds a little stressed but there is also something reproachful about it. Fadel demands to hear the whole truth (Or one could also say... the naked truth. With the way he stripped Style of all his clothing). "What truth?" Style asks, and now the fear that was there a moment ago right before Fadel revealed himself is gone. Instead, Style is truly angry. He ain't got no time for these games. His best friend has been taken god knows where by a killer who could be doing god knows what to him (after all, Style doesn't know Bison as well as he knows Fadel) and he also isn't in the mood to be sitting around tied up and naked at a pool while getting a gun waved into his face by his boyfriend. Especially when he has no idea what the fuck his boyfriend is even on about. But luckily, Fadel explains. Remember how at the end of my ep6 meta I said "Style is missing a key piece of the puzzle and even if he can tell that something is off, to Style it still looks like a happy picture. To Style it still is a happy picture"?

Style asks "What truth?" and Fadel says "That you and your friend have been fooling me and my brother. You work for the police." And there it is. The last crucial piece of the puzzle that Style had been missing since the end of last episode to see the full picture.

Oh. There are several realizations happening in Styles reaction here. Fadel knows. Fadel knows that Style knows. And now Style also knows that Fadel knows that Style knows. Style has been trying so hard to get Fadel to drop the truth and now the moment is finally here. No more dancing around this topic. And also, all of Fadel's recently odd behavior suddenly makes perfect sense. It's all falling into place. During the BB gun war Style already had his suspicions that there was something that Fadel knew about and then when Fadel threatened him at the hospital in a way it just proved his suspicions. And now Style finally knows what exactly it is that Fadel had found out about. And Style now also understands that Fadel found out a wrong truth, or rather an inaccurate truth that paints a wrong picture of Style. And so Style clears it up: "I don’t know anything about those cops. Kant asked me to take you out so you could leave him alone and he could freely investigate." The anger that was in Style's voice before the reveal subsides when he goes into his defense and instead he is annoyed and impatient. After all, he is still naked and tied up at a pool. And his best friend is still missing from having been kidnapped by an actual assassin. Style doesn't have time for this argument right now. Fadel asks him another question: "What did he get out of it?" Style replies "I don’t know. That ain’t my business" and his tone is even more annoyed and also kind of exasperated now. How the fuck should he know?? Why is Fadel bothering him with this?? His only job was to make Fadel his boyfriend. That was his only role in this. He didn't have anything more to do with this.

Fadel wants to know where Kant took Bison to. Style is even more annoyed at this point. Yeah, I was trying to find my friend, too, before you got in my way and abducted me, you fucking idiot. Fadel doesn't believe it when Style says he, too, was looking for Kant. Now Fadel is getting annoyed and impatient as well. "Stop freaking lying." Style is frustrated. "I'm not lying." He informs Fadel of what the nurse said about Bison taking Kant and running away to some unknown location. Style is fed up. He really isn't in the mood for Fadel's stupid interview. He just wants it to be over. "Don’t hurt me, Fadel," he continues. And what I love about this is that there is absolutely no fear in his voice when he says this, no plea for his life. Because he doesn't say it in reaction to something Fadel said or did. Sure, there's a gun to Style's head that could be triggered at any moment, but the thing is that Style has been having this argument with a gun pointed at him for a full minute now and nothing has happened so far and so Style doesn't feel like he is in any immediate danger. And Fadel doesn't even do anything to indicate that he's about to use the gun on Style or that he's about to hurt him in any other way after Style explains that it was Bison who took Kant instead of the other way around. Fadel just stands there immobile, not acting significantly more threatening than he has for the past minute, so there is no reason for Style to be afraid. And it shows in the tone of his voice that he isn't afraid. When Style says "Don't hurt me" his voice sounds annoyed and irritated and frankly, just kind of done. It's almost as if he's saying Just drop the tough act already. Because Style knows it's an act. And I just wanna share something that @secriden wrote here, and I know this paragraph is actually in relation to Fadel's uncharacteristically clingy behavior all episode and to Style's lines that are about to follow, but when I read @secriden's words they had me thinking that this also goes for the seemingly tough act that Fadel is putting up in front of Style, not just the played up sweetness:

In the midst of all the secrets and lies between them, ever since [Style] found out about Fadel's secret and decided he was going to keep pursing him anyway, Style has been chasing and chasing Fadel's sincerity. And each precious revelation that Fadel gave him -- his parents' murder, his inability to trust, his desire for something genuine from Style -- has been carefully stored away in Style's heart like nuggets of gold. Which is why Fadel's performance was doomed from the start; because Style was moved by the true things and not the lies, and Fadel's pretensions can have no effect when Style's heart now has the ability to recognise that which he has already grown to love.

Style has gotten to know Fadel so well that he can recognize when Fadel is being sincere or not, whether it's about Fadel's affections or Fadel's threats. He's gotten to know all these different sides of Fadel, has learned to read him and has learned to differentiate between what is true and what isn't, the way Fadel has learned to differentiate the sincerity and the insincerity in Style's words and actions, too. Which is another reason why Fadel is doomed as well, because after all this time he, too, can tell when Style is being sincere or not. And what Style is about to say to him is indisputably sincere.

Fadel demanded the whole truth from Style, but there is one truth Style hasn't told him yet, at least not in explicit words anyway. And so he continues: "I know I worked for the police, but that was before I knew who you are. Now that I know you, I really love you, Fadel."

And let me just share my own translations again:

Even if it's true that I was a police informant, it was before I knew the real you. ถึงกูจะเป็นสายตำรวจก็จริงอ่ะ แต่นั่นมันก่อนที่จะรู้ตัวจริงของมึง [tĕung - guu - jà bpen - săai dtam-rùuat - gôh - jing - àh • dtàe - nân - man - gòn têe jà - rúu - dtuua jing kŏng meung] even if - I - be - police informant - [sentence link] - true - [particle] • but - that - it - before - know - real you But now that I know the real you, I love you for real, Fadel. แต่พอกูรู้ตัวจริงของมึงแล้วอ่ะ กูรักมึงจริงๆนะฟาเดล [dtàe - poh - guu - rúu - dtuua jing kŏng meung - láew - àh • guu - rák - mueng - jing jing - ná - Fadel] but - when - I - know - real you - already - [particle] • I - love - you - really - [na] - Fadel

You'll notice that I highlighted something there. I actually discussed the term ตัวจริง [dtuua jing] (= real self) with a native speaker friend and I even showed him the scene (bless his heart for putting up with my antics) and he said when he first heard those lines he was a little confused why it would be phrased like this, because usually in Thai they'd phrase it a little differently. We were hanging out in person and unfortunately I didn't write it down, so now I don't remember what the way my friend said it's supposed to be phrased as was, but yeah, apparently this is odd phrasing. Which is why it's even more interesting to me that in episode 5 Fadel says this:

The real me might be scarier than you think. ตัวจริงกูอ่ะ อาจจะน่ากลัวกว่าที่มึงคิดก็ได้ [dtuua jing guu - àh • àat-jà - nâa gluua gwàa - tîi - mueng - kít - gôh dâai] real me - [particle] • might - scarier - that - you - think - [particle]

The wording is basically the same (yes, Style adds the word ของ [kŏng] (= of, from) before the pronoun, but this word is optional and the meaning stays the exact same) and it just makes me wonder if Style's words were written as a deliberate call back to the conversation in episode 5. Back then Style asked Fadel to fully open up to him and told him "I promise that no matter who you are, I’ll still like you". Except back then the message didn't fully reach Fadel, because the cards weren't all out in the open just yet. But now they are. Style knows who Fadel is and Fadel knows that Style knows who Fadel is. And Style has actually gotten to know even more sides of Fadel since that conversation from episode 5 took place. "Now that I know the real you, I love you for real." He loves the grumpy side that always yells at him, the badass side that takes down three grown men in a fight, the happy side that loves heavy metal music and putting on band make-up, the side that has a passion for cooking, and ultimately even the dark side that is capable of killing people without remorse, even if he has yet to witness Fadel actually murdering someone. He isn't scared of him, not even when Fadel is waving a gun around his head. Style loves all of what makes Fadel Fadel.

This, however, is the one truth Fadel does not want to hear, can't hear right now. When he yells "Shut up" at Style, it's the loudest and most aggressive tone he's had in this entire conversation so far. At the same time he also advances on Style, putting his leg up on the step and shoving the gun even closer to Style's head. The yelling and the movement comes so sudden that it actually startles Style. Fadel continues to speak out a threat: "Say you love me one more time, and you’ll be lying at the bottom of this pool." He even mimics a kick. Style complains: "Hey!" Don't kick me into the pool, the fuck!? "I mean it!" Or in his actual words:

I'm telling the truth! กูพูดความจริงเว้ย [guu - pûut - kwaam jing - wóiie] I - say - truth - [particle]

Style is starting to get a little stressed now. What's Fadel threatening to kick him into the pool for when Style is literally telling Fadel the truth just like Fadel demanded? He's been telling Fadel all the information he has, all that he knows but Fadel still won't release him. Instead Fadel just keeps threatening him. Style really doesn't feel like ending up at the bottom of an empty pool, especially not when his best friend is being held captive himself god knows where. All while Style is stuck telling truths that Fadel doesn't want to believe, despite having demanded to hear them. So Style throws Fadel a little reminder:

People who are about to die speak all of the truth. คนจะตายก็พูดความจริงกันทั้งนั้นอ่ะ [kon - jà dtaai - gôh - pûut - kwaam jing - gan táng nán - àh] people - about to die - [sentence link] - say - truth - all, every - [particle] Official subs: I wouldn’t lie with a gun to my head like this.

When people are faced with death they don't typically lie. They tend to speak the whole truth. So why the fuck would Style be lying now? Having this yelling match while being tied up and naked at an abandoned pool is getting really stupid now. It also won't bring Kant and Bison back. If the truth and the power of Style's love can't bring an end to this situation then maybe Fadel's concern and love for his brother will. So Style, still in a rather irritated mood, suggests a deal: "Untie me and I’ll help you look for Bison and my friend." But Bison is another vulnerable spot for Fadel, and just like before he reacts in anger, waving his gun into Style's face: "I ain’t stupid anymore. I don’t trust a word that comes out of your mouth." And for those of you who are curious about the literal wording:

Whatever the hell you're saying, I'm not listening to you. มึงพูดเชี่ยอะไรกูไม่ฟังมึงหรอก [mueng - pûut - chîia à-rai - guu - mâi - fang - mueng - ròk] you - say - whatever the hell - I - not - listen - you - [particle]

No matter what Style says, Fadel won't hear him. The previously annoyed and angered expression on Style's face falls and his eyes widen a bit. Oh shit, you're for real?

His words are his best and only weapon that Style has, a weapon that is essentially rendered powerless if Fadel refuses to listen in any way. I think this is the moment Style realizes that there is a good chance that he can't talk his way out of this after all. That he might be wrong about Fadel sparing his life. After all, Style once was also overly confident that Fadel liked him enough to not do him any harm only for Fadel to punch him in the gut and abandon him on the cold, hard ground in some random storage room. There is a good chance that Fadel will pull the trigger for real. Fadel continues to rage: "You chose the wrong man to fool, asshole."

I think this is the first time that Style is honestly afraid since the very beginning of the scene when it sank in that he was alone. Where before his "don't hurt me" was mostly annoyed, this time when he shouts "Fadel, no!" he is is genuinely scared for his life. He leans away from Fadel, his eyes squinted close as he waits for the likely life-ending shot. He can't see the way Fadel's hand is shaking. The shot doesn't come. Style opens his eyes again. The screen goes black and we are left to find out later how exactly this ends.

No. 9: Hitman Teerak

Fadel did not kill Style. And Style knows for a fact that if Fadel didn't kill him back at the pool then there is no way he's killing him now. Style can afford to be cocky again. All the fear from when we left him has vanished completely and he is back to his overly confident, charmingly annoying self. And he's also wearing clothes again.

Fadel is still pointing a gun at him, but Style doesn't give a shit anymore. In fact, he is very unimpressed. When he asks "Where are you taking me?", he sounds annoyed again, if not downright bored like a child that doesn't wanna do a chore their parent gave them. By the way, the Thai version of this is even sassier:

Where are you taking me to kill me? มึงจะพากูไปฆ่าที่ไหนเนี่ย [mueng - jà - paa - guu - bpai - kâa - tîi năi - nîia] you - will - bring, take - me - go - kill - where - [particle]

Fadel informs him that the place doesn't matter, because Style will die either way. Style sighs a tired sigh and closes his eyes. Fadel really is that set on killing him, apparently, huh? It's getting old. Fadel says: "But before I kill you, I have to see my brother." Style opens his eyes again and turns around to Fadel. He really is getting tired of this. "Do you know where he is?" Fadel says no, but Style needs to help find him. Then Fadel makes a vow: "Once I find him, I’m going to kill you both." Style hesitates, then decides not to fight Fadel on this. He's tired of fighting this stupid fight. If Fadel wants to be stubborn then alright, Style will yield. And so he exasperatedly agrees with Fadel: "I know I deserve to die." Then he turns a bit away from Fadel and says in a pouty voice: "Well, at least I won’t die alone." Style is sulking. Fine. Kill me if you must. But at least I will die side by side with a friend and it won't be a lonely death, I guess. It's the little things in life. He looks at Fadel again. Fadel squints. "Shut up and drive." Suddenly there is impatience in Fadel's voice which was so firm and resolute the entire scene up until now. Then, Fadel goes back to threatening Style with death: "One wrong move, I’m blowing your brain out." Style is severely unimpressed. Or rather, he is impressed but certainly not in the way Fadel would want him to be impressed.

Style knows he's got Fadel now. Any death threat from now on will be utterly meaningless. Fadel won't kill him. Style goes for malicious compliance, but makes sure he makes a big sassy and kind of flirty show out of it to demonstrate just how much not scared of Fadel and his tough guy act he is. Because that's all it is, by now. An act. An act that Style will go along with, if it makes Fadel feel better. "Kruuuub, Mr. Hitman." Yes, yes, you'll kill me, I got it. "I’m scared enough as it is, no need to threaten me." You really don't need to repeat your death threats over and over, I'm sick of hearing them, uh, I mean, just look how terrified of you I am. "I know my life is in the palm of your hand." You've been pointing this gun at me for ages now and I'm still here, alive and kicking. Yes, I really, truly am at your mercy and so very scared for my life. "Why don’t you just take a nap instead or something?"

The last line actually makes me laugh even more in Thai:

Why don't you take the time that you spend threatening me to take a nap instead? มึงเอาเวลาที่มึงขู่กูอ่ะไปนอนมั้ย [mueng - ao - weh-laa - tîi - mueng - kùu - guu - àh - bpai nawn - mái] you - take - time - that - you - threaten - me - [particle] - go to bed - ?

Threatening me is pointless. How about you do something more productive with your time? Ain't that an idea? Style ends his "Fine, I'll fold to your wishes"-monologue in our beloved iconic line: "I’ll drive you where you want me to go, my hitman-teerak." As stated before, I'm always ready to help you, my love <3

Fadel keeps a poker face and orders Style into the car. Style doesn't move, he just defiantly tilts his head and looks at Fadel like well, watcha gonna do to me if I don't?

Fadel loses his temper a little and yells at Style to get going. Style finally moves, but right before he turns he smiles as he looks at Fadel and his eyes are full of warmth and affection. He loves this man.

Halfway on the way to the car door, Style turns around again and throws Fadel another warm, amused, and very pleased smile.

He knows he's already won. Life couldn't be going better for him right now. Style gets into the car and Fadel follows. And off they go, driving into the sunset off on their little road trip to find Kant and Bison.

Once in the car, Fadel lifts his gun back up at Style's head. Style throws him a look. And we all know Style would have jumped Fadel and ripped all his clothes off right then and there if he hadn't been busy driving a car. Fadel lowers the gun again. Style keeps looking over at Fadel, which has me nervously scream look at the fucking road oh my god you're gonna die via a car crash if not by Fadel's gun. Fadel finally takes that nap that Style suggested. Style keeps driving. He is happy and content and very satisfied. Fadel may have put his walls back up, may be pushing him away and threatening him again like he did before they started dating, but that's okay. Style has annoyed his way into Fadel's life once before, he can easily do it again. Especially now that he actually knows Fadel, knows how to handle him, knows how to get through to him. And this time around the flirting is real from the start. And what's even better, what's the biggest relief of it all is that the big secret is now fully out in the open. It had been weighing Style down a lot, but now he can finally talk about it. They can finally talk about it. And now Style can finally hammer it into Fadel's head for good that he isn't scared of him in any way, that he really has embraced him with his hitman identity and all. Style won't have to allude to it anymore in the future, no, he can explicitly say it. And he can show Fadel that it's worth for Fadel to open up 100% to Style, that Style will stick by his side no matter what and that Fadel can absolutely trust him. Style will make him believe that he absolutely, undeniably, irrevocably loves him. Life is going great.

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10 | Ep11 | Ep12)

[ar-cadez]

Negaverse Megavolt concept!

Design notes and personality rant stuff under the cut. Warning. It's long and unreadable.

The purse thing is a generator (Ill probably design it as a prop at some point considering It does NOT look like one but portable generators are hard for me to draw for some reason)

I swapped which eye has the white in it (even though I usually draw it on the wrong side anyway bc idk my lefts from rights..)

I wanted to make the darks very prominent bc the yellows are very prominent in the original

I went with blues bc it's the only other colour usually associated with lightning and electricity.

The teal parts of his outfit are lights! They glow when he's fully charged and fade out when he's out of power.

You can't see it in this pose but his hands have outlets on the back that work the same as megavolt's chest outlet. He can power weapons with them and charge himself without the pain of straight up shocking himself

I wanted to make his hair look like it's thinning out bc of age and repeated electrical damage but I wasn't sure how to do that so it's not really present. Did give him some white hair though.

His glasses are prescription! Can't see nothin without em..

Okay now some personality stuff!

Megavolt is the hardest villain to swap bc his personality is "insane guy with memory issues but is smart" and it's kinda hard to flip that around without just making him boring? Removing his intelligence when it comes to electricity would also negate his whole gimmick which makes things worse. but I do have a few ideas. It's ironic I struggle with him so much considering he's literally my favourite character...

He was popular in high school. He was friends with negaduck and they were both pretty well liked jock types before negaduck started doing major crimes (though I imagine he was always a delinquent of sorts. Just didn't start destroying the city till he graduated) clash reunion is a whole beast on it's own bc megavolt has the most in depth backstory which means a lot of reworking for a personality swap au.

His interests, like dw's megavolt, lie in magnesium, electronics, and engineering. The difference is, despite being Intruiged by these subjects, he didn't go out of his way to learn about the. He was more focused on his peers approval back then. Not to mention the fact that negaduck was an extremely toxic friend and would absolutely make fun of him constantly for it. (He doesn't even actually care, he's just an asshole.)

Eventually after gaining his abilities he began to study electricity and start inventing things. Only.. He's pretty bad at it. Things tend to backfire on him. Quackerjack has a lot more experience than him when it comes to engineering and he tries to help him out but the guy's kinda cursed. I haven't really decided if it's more dt17 gyro where everything he makes ends up turning against him or guy am I from the Netflix green eggs and ham show where everything he makes just kinda explodes. Maybe a bit of both. Either way it's very over the top and is more trouble than it's worth, but that doesn't stop him! (Oh God someone stop him)

I didn't wanna just take away his mental issues completely because the opposite of that is literally nothing. It adds.. Nothing. It just gives him less to work with. And it's already hard enough to do this guy. (Plus it kinda implies mentally ill people can't be heroes and that's.. Mm....) So instead I decided to change how he reacts to it.

He still has memory issues along with other physical and mental symptoms of electrical injury, he just really likes to pretend he doesn't. He completely ignores his deteriorating mental, physical, and emotional health <33

I wanna flesh him out more but I'd only be able to do that if I write with him and I'm fantastic at procrastinating my writing projects <33

[kikyoupdates]

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟻

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“We should exchange contact info, right? How do you want to do it? Phone number, email, maybe a messaging app you use…?”  

You lean closer to your partner, who, rather than looking at you while you talk, has opted to stare straight down at his desk.  

“Um,” you try again, “so… which of those options sound good to you?”  

Theo bristles a bit. “Phone number is f-fine,” he stammers.  

“Okay, great. Let’s swap phones and add each other as contacts, then.”  

You proceed to do just that, but he still refuses to even glance your way. At first, you were a bit put off when he suddenly marched away without even responding to your initial question, but the more you try and speak with him, the more you’re starting to realize that he’s incredibly shy. He might even have social anxiety.  

Of course, you sympathize with him. It must feel awful to be that nervous around others and be forced to do a project with someone he’s never met before. But there’s really no way around this. For better or worse, he’s going to have to loosen up around you, because without proper communication, this project is going to be a disaster.  

You decide to try and find some common ground first.  

“This prof is kind of an asshole, isn’t he?” you whisper. “I feel like nobody likes this class. He always assigns so much work and barely explains anything in his lectures.”  

No response, although you’d expected as much. Even though you know it’s probably not that he dislikes you or anything, it doesn’t feel great to sit directly next to someone and talk to him while he looks away from you and basically pretends like you’re not even there.  

You sigh heavily. Oh, well. Can’t say you didn’t try. There are only a few minutes left before the professor resumes class, and since you’re not making any progress with Theo, you decide to kill time by scrolling through your phone.  

“I… like this class.” 

His voice is so quiet that you barely even register it, but when you look away from your phone and turn your head, you see Theo meeting your gaze for the first time.  

“Th-The material is pretty interesting,” he mumbles. “And I prefer having lots of assignments over tests. I get… really nervous during exams.”  

Oh.  

You set your phone down and nod encouragingly. “True. That makes sense. I don’t have an issue with the course content itself, but I feel like the professor could do a better job of teaching it. Most of it feels like self-study to me. Which isn’t always bad, but sometimes the extra guidance would be nice.”  

“He’s not a good teacher,” Theo admits. “But… I like learning on my own anyways, so it’s not too bad. I get why other people don’t really like it, though. He assigns a lot of work…”  

“Other profs usually let students choose their groups or partners too, but I guess he’s pretty strict about this kind of stuff. It worked out, though,” you beam. “Because now we get to work together. I feel like we’ll do a great job.”  

Theo stares at you in silence for a few moments, then much to your dismay, reverts back to looking down at his desk. You only got a couple seconds of direct eye contact, but hey, you’ll take it.  

Soon enough, the lecture begins, and the professor goes over the expectations for the project, as well as the overall grading scheme. Just as you figured, it’s going to take a long time to finish, and if it’s at all similar to previous assignments you’ve done in this class, then you can probably expect for him to be a harsh marker.  

Not that there’s any point in whining about it. It’ll be one hell of a grind, but you’re going to have to pull it off.  

Class finally ends, and you start packing up your belongings, but you turn towards Theo before you leave.  

“Oh, right,” you say, quickly tapping on your phone. “I just sent you a text to make sure my number saved correctly. Did you get it?”  

After a brief delay, his phone screen lights up, and he stares at it long and hard before nodding.  

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I got it.”  

“Awesome!” you grin. “So, I’m not sure exactly when, but we should start figuring out some of the details for the project, like dividing the work and whatnot. I don’t really know anyone in this class, so do you want to sit together from now on? It would make it easier to discuss things.”  

“Sit together?” Theo blinks repeatedly. It’s one of the rare instances when he’s actually making eye contact with you. “You want… to sit with me?”  

“Well, of course. You’re my partner. And even if you weren’t, why wouldn’t I want to sit with you?”  

“Oh. I don’t know.” A sad look crosses his face, and he lowers his head again. “A-Alright. We can sit together from now on. I’ll start brainstorming ideas for our project and what would work based on the topic we’ve been assigned.”  

“That sounds great. I’ll start doing the same thing. See you later, Theo.” You throw your backpack over your shoulders and wave him off with a smile. “I hope you have a nice rest of your day!”  

Theo can just barely see you waving out of the corner of his eye, and he briefly considers waving back to you, but he stops himself from raising his hand.  

He shouldn’t read into it too much. You’re just being polite, and you would never have even talked to him if you hadn’t been partnered together. 

Yeah. That’s the bitter truth. But it’s okay, because he’s used to it by now. 

Nobody ever wants anything to do with him. 

It’s been a long day.  

You started off by getting jumpscared by Callum’s ex-girlfriend, not to mention blindsided by a completely different situation than you’d agreed to. But you guess it worked out in the end, and even though you still strongly believe they aren’t good for each other, ultimately, Callum is the client, and he gets to call the shots.  

Afterwards, you walked into your least favorite class and got jumpscared again by an impromptu research project, where you ended up with who is most likely the shyest guy you’ve ever met. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you know it’ll make working together a bit more challenging.  

Long story short, you’re tired, and you’ve got a buttload of homework waiting for you back home. Joy.  

You step into your apartment and kick your shoes off without wasting a beat. You ate with Callum earlier, but you’re starting to get hungry again, and you don’t have time to cook a proper dinner tonight, so you decide to order in.  

You change into some more comfortable clothes and start tackling some assignments while you wait for your order to arrive. Your focus wanes every so often, and you catch yourself watching funny animal videos on your phone.  

“God, I have no self-control,” you sigh, having to place your phone outside your room so you can actually get some work done.  

Just as you’re about to sit back down at your desk, the doorbell rings.  

Oh. Food’s here already? 

You open the door, and right on cue, the smell of delicious, hot food fills your nostrils and has you practically salivating. 

“Hey, there!”  

You’re greeted by a friendly-looking young man, somewhere around your age, if you had to guess. He has a long earring dangling from one of his earlobes, and the kind of good looks you might expect a celebrity to have.  

He’s also grinning ear-to-ear as he holds out your packaged meal.  

“I’ve got an order for delivery right here for you,” he hums. “Just checking that I’ve got the right place. This is for [Name], right?”  

You nod. “That’s me. Thanks. You got here really fast.”  

“I’m the fastest delivery guy they’ve got,” he proudly states. You can’t help but chuckle in response. Most delivery people hardly share his upbeat demeanor—not that you can really blame them—so it’s kind of a breath of fresh air.  

You settle the payment and grab your food, and he blinks in surprise at how big of a tip you gave him. 

“Oh, wow!” he exclaims. “That’s so generous of you! Thanks a bunch!”  

“Don’t mention it. Your energy was really contagious, so it put me in a good mood,” you smile. “And thanks again for getting here so fast. Have a nice day.”  

“You too!”  

He keeps grinning up until you shut the door, and you happily walk over to the dining room table to enjoy your food. It’s crazy what a positive interaction with someone can accomplish. Even if he’s just a stranger that you won’t ever be seeing again, it still lifted your spirits. 

Now, then. Time to dig in. 

“I’m back, babe. Did you miss me?”  

Axel hardly takes two steps into his apartment before being greeted in a big hug by his boyfriend, Liam.  

“Welcome back,” Liam smiles. “You got home earlier than usual today. I was worried you’d be out past midnight again.” 

“Not too many deliveries to run,” Axel shrugs. “It’s all good. You know I don’t mind working late, as long as I’m getting paid.” 

“Don’t push yourself too hard. Remember, I can always cover us if we’re short on money,” Liam insists. 

“Of course. But I like working. I like staying busy. I can always count on getting hours for this job while I wait on my other ones.” Axel pauses, then grins as he lifts up a big paper bag. “Anyways, I got some freebies. You in the mood for fried chicken?”  

“Greasy stuff like that isn’t good for my skin,” Liam shrinks back. “What if I break out before my next photoshoot?”  

“Pfft. You always look cute. Don’t even worry about it.”  

Liam blushes, but even though he’s been trying to keep his diet clean recently, he can never say no to Axel.  

Well, it’s fine. This will just have to be a cheat day.  

Axel sighs heavily as he plops down in front of the TV, already digging into the bag of fried chicken. “This chicken slaps. I wonder if I should steal their secret recipe one day. I doubt it’d be that hard to find.”  

“Maybe don’t,” Liam chuckles. “That sounds like the kind of thing you’d get fired for. But then again, I’m sure you’d find another job almost immediately.”  

“True that.”  

For a while, they focus on eating and watching TV, but all of a sudden, Axel’s eyes widen.  

“Oh, right! I forgot to mention, but one of the girls I delivered food for today was super pretty,” he says. “I think you would’ve liked her too.”  

Liam sighs. “You’re always talking about girls. You do realize I’m your boyfriend, right?”  

“Yeah, but aren’t we both bi?” 

“That’s beside the point.”  

“Relax,” Axel laughs, taking a bite of fried chicken. “You know I don’t mean anything by it. But I’m sure you would’ve thought she was pretty too. She seems like she’d be your type.”  

“Maybe,” Liam shrugs. “Anyways, you know that app I was telling you about before? Apparently one of my friends actually used it.”  

Axel takes another bite of chicken, fully immersed in the TV. “That’s cool.” 

“Do you even know which app I’m talking about?”  

“Yeah, nice.”  

“Axel,” Liam grimaces, pinching his cheek to grab his attention, “Listen to me. The app I was talking about before. You know, the one where you can hire someone to pretend to date you?”  

“People actually do that?”  

“Well, yeah. My friend did it. It sounded like he was happy with it, but I don’t know. It’s not a real relationship, so is there even a point?”  

Axel scratches his cheek. “I guess he was feeling lonely or something. What’s the app?”  

“Huh? Oh. Hold on. I can download it if you want to look through it.” 

It starts off as simple intrigue. Neither of them are actually interested in the app, and are more so scrolling through it to sate their curiosities, just like you did before.  

But inevitably, it will become so much more than that.  

Liam will regret this decision for the rest of his life.  

“So, these are all people you can hire?” Axel clarifies, furrowing his brows. “Everyone’s listing different hourly rates and things they’re willing to do.”  

“From what I heard, everyone sets their own standards,” Liam explains. “But there’s a market out there for pretty much anyone. And it sounds like there’s definitely a big demand. I didn’t think so many people would be into this.”  

“Weird. Not sure I could ever get into it.”  

“Yeah, me neither. I’m kind of worried about my friend, to be honest. I feel like he’s been in a dark place lately—”  

“Wait, hold up!”  

Axel snatches the phone out of Liam’s hands, much to the latter’s surprise. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but for some reason, his boyfriend is staring at the screen like a man possessed.  

“Her,” Axel points. “This is her. The girl I ran into earlier today. Holy shit. What are the odds?”  

Liam frowns and leans closer. Sure enough, there’s a girl’s profile on screen, and admittedly, she is very pretty.  

“Isn’t she cute?” Axel gushes. “She was super nice and gave me a generous tip too! I just get the feeling that she must be a great person.”  

“She’s definitely attractive,” Liam nods.  

“See? I knew you’d like her. Be honest, would you consider dating her for real if you were single?”  

“Based on appearance alone… probably. But I already have you,” Liam smiles, playfully poking Axel on the tip of his nose. “You’re the best there is.”  

“Haha. You always know how to stroke my ego.”  

Figuring the conversation is over, Liam pecks his boyfriend on the cheek, then turns his attention back to the TV.  

The next thing Axel says catches him completely off guard.  

“Should we… hire her?”  

“What?”  

Liam feels his stomach drop. He doesn’t understand where this is coming from. Everything they were saying earlier was all in good fun. 

…wasn’t it?  

“I think she’s super hot,” Axel admits. “And I kind of want to see what the big deal is. Is it really that fun to hire someone to pretend to date you? I’m kind of starting to wonder what it’s like. Plus, you said you’re attracted to her too, so it’s a win-win, right?”  

“But… we already have each other,” Liam swallows.  

“Don’t people do this kind of thing nowadays? Dating multiple people at a time and stuff.”  

“You mean like a polyamorous relationship? Yeah, I’ve heard of it, but… I don’t know. I don’t think I’m comfortable with something like that.” 

“Well, yeah, but it wouldn’t be for real,” Axel persists. “It would just be pretend. And you would get to know what it feels like to date a girl and a guy at the same time. Plus, we would probably only do it once. Like, one little date. I don’t know, I just think it’d be cool to try. Maybe you’ll find out you actually like this sort of thing.”  

Liam doesn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting Axel to be pushing for something like this, especially since he’s never really expressed any interest before. 

Is he being too close-minded? It’s true that this would only be pretend. Most of these partners-for-hire have rules about physical intimacy anyways, so it’s not like anything inappropriate would happen.  

Besides… Axel looks really excited about it. He’s always been the perfect boyfriend, so maybe it’s time to let him do exactly what he wants for a change. 

“Just one date?” Liam affirms. “And if I’m not into it… then we won’t do it again, okay?”  

Axel nods reassuringly. “Of course. I wouldn’t pressure you into anything you didn’t want. This is just to experiment and see if it’s something we like.”  

“In that case… alright.” 

The second Liam voices his approval, Axel breaks into a massive grin and pulls his boyfriend snug into his arms. Liam chuckles and hugs him back. Yeah, this is fine. He’s in the healthiest, happiest relationship of his life, and that has to count for something. The fact that they can even do something this just goes to show how much they trust each other.  

Everything will be okay.  

He’s sure of it. 

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