#How to setup new extender

[constantvariations]

Am I too cynical or is Blake's declaration that saving Haven improved things for Mistral faunus unrealistic? People would focus far more on the faunus terrorists than the faunus saviors, right?

[fooltofancy]

i love my coworkers so much, but if i have to watch them set up any of the recorded events (streaming, broadcast records, physical records, literally anything) i will turn inside out.

[zillychu]

I’ve gotten a WAVE of asks about this AU, so I decided to flesh it out some more and answer some of those questions!

I’ll probably polish this extended summary up at some point and submit it to AO3. But for now, here’s a rundown of my thoughts–please feel free to send more questions! I’ll update this post if I get any more. But if you’re someone who wanted to write fic for it, don’t worry, you don’t need to take my headcanons as gospel. It’s a pretty basic AU honestly lol

Summary:

The portal accident results in a violent explosion that wipes out the whole block, and condemns all of Amity Park. Danny haunts the city for 100 years, before Sam and Tucker find him. 

Setup:

In the 1920’s, 19-year-old Danny went into the incomplete portal on his own, hoping to help out his parents. Ripping the portal open through unnatural means created a huge burst of energy that resulted in a massive explosion. A good portion of the Amity Park population died, many were injured, and the ones on the fringes relocated–Amity was quickly deemed too dangerous due to the excess ectoplasm in the area that attracted ghosts. 

While the disaster was in Amity, the fallout was seen around the globe. Before, natural portals were rare, short-lived, and rarely allowed ghosts to fully slip into our realm (the most severe cases being on par with poltergeists that most people didn’t believe in). Now, natural portals pop open frequently around the world, large enough to allow the entirety of a ghost into the physical plane. They’re more common the closer you get to Amity, but they happen enough elsewhere that this change was something of a small apocalypse before people settled back down and found out how to combat at least some of their new, permanent neighbors. 

Danny is unaware that he’s only half-dead, believing he’s a full ghost. He ends up sticking around Amity, unintentionally making it his haunt. His grief and guilt over causing the death of his loved ones (and many others) makes him isolate and avoid human contact. Though he has, at times, scared nosy people away from the city in a mix of territorial instinct–and to get them to leave before a less friendly ghost finds them. 

Ghosts are much more of an uncontested danger in this AU. Lesser ghosts are practically mindless, and while stronger ghosts are capable of reason, their interests are limited. They’re highly territorial, possessive, and often destructive. Most worrisome is that they also like to snack on the life force of anything alive. No one is sure what dictates a ghost��s propensity to attack or hunt the living for their life force since ghosts don’t exactly experience hunger. At least, not the way we do. If a human is rescued before their life force is fully drained, they can make a full recovery–though humanity has still not yet found what this “life force" is. 

And since the Fentons’ research died along with them, there aren’t many tools available to the public to protect them from ghosts. Most homes have standard ghost shields and some weapons are available on the market, but certified ghost hunters are required to take care of anything more powerful than your average spook. 

Sam and Tucker met in high school, and are now rooming together for college very close to the Amity border. Rent is surprisingly cheap when you’re a stone’s throw away from a condemned area crawling with ghosts. Sam is the one who drags Tucker along with her fascination over finding out more about the city, and its largely mysterious demise. Sam is aware of the danger, but feels ghosts have a place in this world just like everything else, and does exercise caution–like one would while foraging in the woods with a known tiger population. 

What she and Tucker weren’t expecting was to run into a ghost that felt almost human. One that hasn't hurt them, not for lack of trying–while being powerful enough to walk past ghost shields without so much as a flinch. The long white hair is familiar in the whispers of the ectobiologist community, but there’s no way it could be the rumored ghost king Phantom, right?

About Danny:

He has very long hair, claws, and black sclera. His hazmat suit is more torn and ragged, with exposed hands and feet that fade into a burnt black.

His hair tends to float a lot on its own. It can start morphing into fire under duress. 

He does still technically have gloves and boots, they've just charred and melted into his skin towards the ends. He can't take them off in his ghost form. His hands and feet have a leathery texture that's tougher than the rest of his skin.

The white of his hazmat suit is both supposed to look like flames, and also a battered look representing his more violent, explosive death.

Overall, he appears rather listless and sad, with an unnerving air of danger around him–even for a ghost. 

Danny’s “ghost sense” comes out as white smoke.

He does breathe black smoke at times, usually when agitated. 

He's already fought and defeated Pariah Dark by the time Sam and Tucker find him, technically making him the Ghost King. This is heavily speculated by ghost experts, despite there being no real proof beyond a massive battle that scarred Illinois. He has not donned the Ring or the Crown, and captured sentient ghosts are hesitant to answer questions surrounding him. Danny basically has the throne but doesn’t do anything with it, and finds it meaningless enough to routinely forget he has the title. He only fought Pariah because he knew otherwise, humanity would have perished. A lot of ghosts are scared of him because he's so hard to figure out, and he's strong. 

Danny is usually very quiet and speaks softly, because his lungs were damaged in the blaze that half-killed him. He's technically healed since becoming a ghost, so it's more of a compulsion due to the traumatic memory. That, and he’s just… very forlorn and distant, shy around humans who don’t seem to understand how dangerous it is to keep hanging around him.

His memories pre-accident are extremely fuzzy. He knows the very basics of who he was, but specifics have been muffled due to trauma and isolation. He routinely forgets human habits, etiquette, etc. and tends to act more like a full ghost with some odd quirks. 

He does try to scare Sam and Tucker off numerous times. Unfortunately for him, they realized they shouldn't have been able to escape a ghost that strong–but they did, because he let them. 

Sam and Tucker think he's mute at first! He doesn't speak a word to them until several encounters later, when he fumbles his whole scary act and saves them from another ghost. 

He’s still half-ghost, though he doesn’t figure this out until Sam and Tucker come along trying to unravel the mysteries behind the Amity catastrophe. Physically and emotionally, he’s been stuck for 100 years–so his human form is still 19. It’s unclear at this point if he can age normally like a human as long as he stays in human form, or if he’s immortal. 

Danny's family did not turn into ghosts, though he sometimes worries he'll find them in the afterlife as shells of their former selves. He doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's not sure he'd recognize them. 

(Danny also still has some living family. Take a guess.)

Yes, he knows how to Wail. Understandably, he very rarely uses it. You do not want to witness this.

Danny :) is not immune :) from the allure of eating a human's life force :)))

[faebled-stories]

Tangled In Bliss

Kinkvember Day 11: Suspension Play/Stuck

Le Sserafim Nakamura Kazuha x Male reader

6.5k words

AN: A little later than when I normally upload, I'm still recovering 😅

“And… finished.” The soft murmur of satisfaction filled the tranquil yoga room as Kazuha stepped back to admire her setup. The aerial yoga hammock hung from the ceiling, swaying gently, as though eagerly awaiting her first move. The silky fabric, a rich teal that shimmered in the afternoon light, looked both delicate and strong—inviting her to stretch and soar. She felt a surge of pride at how smoothly everything had come together, the setup a small victory of her own making.

Although this wasn’t her first experience with aerial yoga, Kazuha felt a renewed sense of excitement bubbling up inside. As a former ballerina, she’d always been curious about practices that allowed her to blend strength with grace. She’d tried aerial yoga a few times before but now had her own space to explore her incredible flexibility and strength. Today felt special, charged even—she had the entire afternoon to herself, with no one around but the soft hum of the house and the silky fabric swaying before her.

There was something thrilling, almost rebellious, about using the silks alone. You were at work, and the idea of surprising you with a new skill filled her with warmth. After all, it was your mutual love of fitness that brought you together. She wanted you to see this side of her—a little daring, unrestrained, pushing her limits in the privacy of her own space.

With a slight smile, Kazuha tied her hair back and glanced at her phone, where she’d queued up a progression of aerial yoga poses, each one more challenging than the last. Taking a steadying breath, she positioned herself on the soft mat, hands reaching for the silk. Her fingers brushed the cool, smooth fabric, and she allowed herself to pause for a moment, savoring the anticipation building in her chest.

In one fluid motion, she lifted herself into the hammock, her muscles tensing and releasing as she rose, letting her body find its center of gravity. Her abs tightened, her legs wrapped around the silk, and she hung in a graceful inversion, her body suspended in a beautiful arc. Her arms extended, fingertips barely grazing the air as she floated in silence, the room holding its breath alongside her.

Kazuha caught her reflection in the mirror across the room—a flash of her toned legs, toes perfectly pointed, abs taut and defined. The vibrant pink of her yoga pants hugged her curves, emphasizing the elegant lines of her body. She shifted gracefully into a split, her legs stretching outward, the silks framing her in an effortless display of flexibility. She felt strong and empowered, her body weightless, movements held by the silks that supported her like an invisible dance partner.

Feeling a surge of confidence, she moved to the next level. She consulted her phone, noting the series of poses that lay ahead, each promising to test her balance and strength. She twisted her torso, lifting one leg while keeping the other wrapped securely. Her muscles tensed as she held the position, a soft sigh of exertion escaping her lips. The strain was real, but she relished the challenge, her body responding eagerly to the test.

Glancing down at her phone, she saw the final, more advanced pose displayed—a daring inversion requiring a deep backbend with her legs pulled high above her head. Kazuha paused, her heart pounding with both excitement and nerves, but her determination won out. Carefully, she shifted her weight and positioned her legs. Her abs tightened, arms supporting her as she brought her legs up and over, stretching her torso into a breathtaking arch. The silks wound securely around her thighs, but just as she settled into the pose, something went wrong.

Her foot slipped from the silk, and before she could react, the hammock tightened abruptly around her thighs, pulling her legs higher. Her body jerked as the fabric constricted around her, her legs now awkwardly bent above her head. She tried to reposition, but the silks only seemed to tighten further, locking her in place.

“Wait… what?” she gasped, heat flooding her cheeks. She struggled, twisting and wriggling, but the more she moved, the more the silks seemed to bind her, trapping her in a suspended split. Her arms hung helplessly at her sides, unable to reach for leverage. She let out a frustrated sigh, her gaze falling to her phone just out of reach on the floor. If she could only swing herself closer, maybe she could grab it. Determined, she rocked her body, fingers stretching, trying to build momentum, but the hammock refused to budge, keeping her immobilized in an elegant, albeit precarious, pose.

As she swung slightly, her mind began to wander. The thought of you finding her like this—stuck and vulnerable—sent a strange thrill down her spine. Her cheeks warmed as she imagined your reaction. Part of her was frustrated, but another part, one she didn’t often acknowledge, felt a curious excitement.

Minutes ticked by, but to her, it felt like an eternity. With each passing second, her frustration grew, mingling with the anticipation she couldn’t quite shake. Her gaze drifted back to the door, half hoping, half dreading the moment you’d walk in.

Then, just as she was resigning herself to a lengthy wait, the sound of the front door opening shattered the quiet. Her heart leapt, caught between relief and sudden embarrassment, as your voice echoed through the house, warm and familiar.

“Zuha? My love, I’m home!”

She bit her lip, hesitating as she fought down the blush that threatened to rise again. Finally, she called out, her voice a little shaky, “Baaabe? Could you… come to my yoga room?”

As you entered the room, the scene before you was enough to make you pause, taking in every detail. There she was—suspended in the air, her legs folded above her head, arms helplessly dangling at her sides. Her cheeks were flushed, a hint of vulnerability in her usually confident gaze. Her body was wrapped in silk, held by the taut fabric, and despite her embarrassment, she looked breathtaking.

For a moment, your concern was visible, but as the situation fully registered, a grin crept across your face. Leaning against the doorway, you crossed your arms, unable to resist the teasing. “Well, well... what do we have here?” you murmured, eyebrow raised. “Zuha, how exactly did you manage this?”

Kazuha squirmed slightly, her face burning even brighter as she looked away, mumbling under her breath. “I was… trying a new position, and I lost my balance,” she muttered defensively. “Now I’m stuck. Could you just help me get down?”

You chuckled, stepping closer with a glint of mischief in your eye. Slowly, you traced a finger along the edge of the silks wrapped tightly around her thighs. She shivered at the soft touch, her breath catching as it quickened slightly. "Are you sure you're not hurt?" you asked, letting your voice dip, a note of seriousness slipping through.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “No, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice wavering just slightly. “Just… stuck and incredibly embarrassed.”

A soft smirk played at your lips as you leaned closer, your face just inches from hers. “Good,” you whispered, your breath grazing her ear. “Because you look surprisingly comfortable up there.” Her blush deepened, and you could see a flicker of something more in her eyes—an unspoken thrill.

Before she could respond, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then brushing her lips with yours. She melted into the kiss, her shoulders relaxing as her breathing steadied, a subtle warmth spreading over her cheeks.

With a quiet chuckle, you took a step back, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm going to freshen up. Long day at work, you know?" You added a playful push to the hammock, setting it into a gentle sway, and her gaze softened as she watched you move toward the hallway.

"Just hang tight," you called over your shoulder with a grin, leaving her nestled and content in the gentle sway.

“What?! Babe, don’t you dare—” she started, her voice rising in disbelief, but it was too late. You’d already disappeared down the hall, and the soft sound of the bathroom door closing echoed through the quiet house.

Suspended in the air, Kazuha let out an exasperated sigh, her face flushed with both frustration and something else she couldn’t quite define. She wriggled again, hoping to somehow loosen the silks, but the hammock’s hold remained firm. Her legs were trapped in an elevated split, the silks gripping her tightly, leaving her completely immobilized. Her phone was tantalizingly close on the floor below, but there was nothing she could do but wait.

A mix of emotions swirled inside her—embarrassment, irritation, and a spark of anticipation she hadn’t expected. She couldn’t help but wonder what you’d do when you returned. Being at your mercy, bound in the hammock and unable to move, filled her with a thrill she hadn’t felt before. Her mind raced, and despite herself, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

When you finally returned, your casual grin grew wider at the sight of her still suspended and completely helpless. “How's it hanging...Still stuck?” you teased, stepping closer, your eyes tracing the lines of her toned body. She glared at you, though her flustered expression and pink cheeks betrayed her mixed feelings. “Obviously,” she muttered, trying to sound irritated. “Are you going to help me down now?”

You held her gaze, your fingers lightly trailing up the silks that bound her thighs. “You look so graceful up there,” you mused, voice soft as your fingers traced the line of her legs, moving higher with tantalizing slowness. You stopped just shy of the waistband of her yoga pants, eyes darkening with a playful glint.

“I mean, I could let you down now,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that she could feel your breath on her skin, “but where’s the fun in that?”

Kazuha’s heart raced as she felt your touch move higher, stopping just shy of the waistband of her yoga pants. Your voice was low and teasing with eyes dark with playful intent.

"Tell me, How much did there cost you?" you murmured, your voice a low, sultry purr that seemed to resonate with the intimacy of the moment. Your fingers continued their dance along the fabric, each touch sending a ripple of anticipation through Kazuha's body.

Kazuha blinked, her long lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she processed your question. "Uh... eighty dollars?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, a hint of confusion mingling with the growing desire in her eyes.

Your hand paused, and for a moment, your expression shifted to one of thoughtful contemplation. Then, as if a delightful idea had struck you, a mischievous grin spread across your face, transforming it into a portrait of playful intentions.

"Eighty dollars, huh?" You shrugged nonchalantly, the picture of confidence and control. "I can afford that."

Before Kazuha could utter another word, you gripped the fabric of her pants with a determined hand, right at the point where it covered her wet, eager folds. With a swift, forceful motion, you tore the pants open, the sound of the fabric ripping echoing through the room like a sharp, tantalizing prelude to the symphony of pleasure that was to come.

Kazuha gasped, the cool air rushing against her newly exposed skin, sending a shiver of delight mixed with shock coursing through her body. "B-Baby!" she stammered, her body tensing, her heart racing as she realized just how vulnerable and exposed she was to you in that moment.

Your smirk deepened, your eyes darkening with desire as you leaned in closer, your hand now trailing down to explore the slickness of her folds. "You're already soaked," you murmured, your voice low and teasing, the vibrations of your words adding to the sensation of your fingers as they grazed her wetness. "Were you hoping this would happen?"

Kazuha whimpered softly, her body trembling at your touch, her legs still suspended above her, held in place by the hammock's gentle embrace. She was completely at your mercy, her body aching with anticipation and need.

"You're the perfect height for this," you growled, the animalistic edge to your voice betraying your excitement. You positioned yourself between her legs, your eyes lingering on the sight before you—Kazuha, open and vulnerable, her body a canvas of desire. "I think I'm going to enjoy this."

With a wicked grin, you knelt on the thin yoga matt that covered the floor, placing yourself perfectly between Kazuha's legs. You began by kissing her inner thighs gently, your lips leaving a trail of warmth as you worked your way up slowly, teasing her with your breath, your intention clear. Kazuha squirmed slightly, her body aching with anticipation, but the hammock kept her perfectly still, leaving her completely exposed to your ministrations.

Your lips hovered just inches from her core, your breath hot against her sensitive skin. Kazuha's body trembled in response, a silent plea for more. You pressed a soft, lingering kiss against her pussy, a promise of the pleasure to come. Looking up at her with a teasing smirk, you held her gaze, the connection between you electric and unbreakable.

"You're so perfect, I'm the luckiest man in the world." you murmured, your voice low and filled with a longing that resonated in the stillness. "I could do this all day."

Kazuha's breath hitched, a staccato rhythm against the symphony of nature's chorus. Your words, a balm to her soul, sent shivers cascading through her body, electrifying every nerve ending. She had always reveled in the appreciation of her figure—a testament to her dedication and discipline. But when those words of adoration came from you, they pierced through her defenses, reaching depths she hadn't known existed within her.

Your gaze was a physical touch, locked onto her trembling form with an intensity that heightened her arousal to near-unbearable heights. You drank in the sight of her, the rise and fall of her chest, the flush that painted her skin, and the way her body responded to the timbre of your voice. She could feel herself throbbing, her core reacting with involuntary clenches, a silent plea for more. A soft whimper escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the very air around you.

You smiled, a knowing, predatory grin that acknowledged her body's betrayal of its own need. "You love that, don't you? The way I talk about you... I can see you your pussy quiver from every word." Your words were a velvet caress, wrapping around her, pulling her deeper into the web of your shared desire.

With a deliberate slowness that bordered on cruelty, your tongue flicked out, teasing her clit with a light touch that promised more. Then, with a feral hunger, you pressed your mouth fully against her, devouring her with deep, slow licks that sent shockwaves of pleasure through her suspended form. Kazuha gasped, her legs trembling within the silken embrace of the hammock as the pleasure shot through her core like a starburst. Her hips instinctively tried to buck, to meet the rhythm of your mouth, but the silks held her firmly in place, leaving her suspended and completely at your mercy.

You licked her deliberately, tracing her slick folds with your tongue as you worked her closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Your hands, strong and sure, gripped her thighs, holding her in place as your mouth moved against her with expert precision. You kissed and sucked on her clit, each movement building her up, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

Kazuha's breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling as the pleasure intensified. Her abs, already flexed from the effort of maintaining balance within the hammock, tightened even more with every movement of your tongue. She could feel her muscles contracting, every inch of her body reacting to the sensations you were giving her, a dance of ecstasy that left her teetering on the edge.

"God, you taste so good," you groaned between kisses, your voice rough with lust. "I can't believe how beautiful and sexy you are. Your body’s amazing, baby." The compliments made Kazuha's core tighten even more, a coil winding ever tighter within her. Every word you spoke seemed to drive her wild, her pussy clenching involuntarily in response to your praise. She could feel her climax building, a tide that threatened to sweep her away. Her legs quivered in the hammock, her body tensing in delicious anticipation of the release that was sure to come.

You weren’t holding back. You pressed your mouth harder against her, your tongue flicking rapidly over her clit as you pushed her closer to the edge. You let go of her legs and pushed forward with your face, using gravity to press her pussy deeper into your mouth. The hammock’s tension added to the sensation, her own body weight pushing her harder against your lips and tongue, making every movement more intense.

Kazuha's voice, tremulous with need, pierced the air. "Oh god, You feel so fucking good!" she cried out, her desperation palpable. Her abdominal muscles contracted with such force that it bordered on pain, the tension in her core coiling like a spring as her body quivered on the brink of ecstasy.

Your voice, a dark melody of seduction, teased her mercilessly. "You're close, aren't you?" you murmured, looking up to meet her gaze, your eyes alight with mischief and desire. "I can feel how much you're throbbing. Cum for me, baby, I know you want to."

Her response was a whimper, a sound that seemed to be torn from the very depths of her being. Her legs, ensnared by the hammock's embrace, trembled as her climax loomed ever closer. You were relentless, your mouth working tirelessly to push her over the edge. The pleasure was building, a crescendo that threatened to consume her entirely.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, you pulled back slightly, your lips leaving her clit for just a moment before your hand came down in a sharp slap against her pussy.

Kazuha’s entire body jolted at the sudden sting, her back arching as the pain and pleasure mixed together. Her breath hitched, her abs contracting violently as her pussy throbbed in response. Before she could recover, you slapped her again, the sharp sensation sending her spiraling.

“Come on, Zuha,” you growled, your voice thick with desire. “I know, you love getting spanked.”

With one final, powerful slap, Kazuha’s body shattered.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body convulsing in the hammock as her pussy clenched and pulsed uncontrollably. Her abs flexed so hard that every muscle in her core stood out, looking like it was chiseled from stone, her thighs trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. The force of her climax left her breathless, her cries filling the room as she came harder than ever before.

But you were not finished. You leaned forward once more, your mouth finding her again, your tongue laving her through the aftershocks. Your relentless attention to her overstimulated clit elicited another chorus of cries from Kazuha, her body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her once more.

"Fuck, you truly are one of a kind, baby," you groaned against her, your own arousal evident in your voice. Your tongue continued to worship her sensitive flesh, each flick timed perfectly with the erratic beating of her heart. Her pussy responded in kind, clenching and releasing as her body rode the waves of her orgasm.

Spent and sated, Kazuha could only whimper softly, her body a boneless, contented weight in the hammock. Her legs, still gently swaying, twitched with the remnants of her climax as she struggled to catch her breath. 

You finally pulled back, your lips brushing softly over her trembling core one last time before you looked up at her. Your eyes, filled with satisfaction, met hers, which were clouded with the aftermath of her climax. "You're gorgeous," you whispered, your voice a symphony of admiration. "I could watch you cum all day."

Kazuha's body continued to shudder, her mind a haze of pleasure as she struggled to draw breath. Her toned abdomen still flexed, quivering from the intensity of her release, and her sensitive flesh throbbed with the sweet ache of overstimulation, her body twitching with every lingering touch.

You stood slowly, your hands tracing a path along her silken thighs before leaning in to press a soft, possessive kiss to her abdomen. "I'm not done with you yet," you murmured against her skin, a playful intent lacing your words.

Kazuha whimpered softly, her body deliciously spent yet still eager for more. She was completely at your mercy, surrendering to the vulnerability and reveling in every moment of it.

You took a step back, your gaze darkening with desire as it roamed over her trembling form. Your hands gripped her hips, adjusting her position in the hammock, pulling her just high enough that your hips aligned perfectly. You positioned yourself between her legs, the tip of your arousal brushing against her slick folds, teasing her with the promise of what was to come.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," you growled, your voice rough with anticipation as you locked eyes with her. "Look at you, dripping and so ready for me."

Without further ado, you thrust into her, your length filling her completely in one powerful motion. Kazuha gasped, her back arching as the hammock swayed beneath her, enhancing every movement. The gentle rocking, combined with the slow, deliberate rhythm of your thrusts, made every sensation more exquisite.

The angle was perfection—your hands gripping her hips tightly as you drove into her, each thrust deeper than the last. The hammock cradled her suspended at just the right height, her legs spread wide above her, offering herself to you entirely.

"Baby," you whispered against her ear, your voice thick with lust. "You feel so fucking good like this."

Kazuha could only moan in response, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pleasure mounted rapidly. Her body trembled beneath you, every thrust propelling her closer to the precipice of another shattering release. The way you manipulated the hammock to control her movements, adjusting her height and angle, made each plunge feel impossibly deep.

Your grip on her hips tightened, pulling her down onto you with every motion. "You're mine," you asserted, your thrusts growing harder, more intense as you watched her body react to yours. "Completely mine."

Kazuha whimpered, her legs quivering in the hammock as the pleasure spiraled faster and faster. She could feel herself teetering on the edge of another orgasm, her entire being trembling as you relentlessly drove her toward the brink.

"I... I can't...hold on, I need to cum" Kazuha moaned, her voice shaky with the effort to articulate the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

You smirked down at Kazuha, your eyes dark with the intensity of your longing. "Not yet," you growled, your thrusts slowing down just enough to keep her hanging on the brink. "Hold on longer for me." The playful yet commanding tone in your voice sent a shiver down her spine.

With a playful grin, you suddenly pushed her away slightly in the hammock, the fabric rocking her gently backwards. The momentum of the swing brought her body crashing back into yours, your length driving deeper inside her as the force of the motion sent shockwaves of pleasure through her.

Kazuha gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the hammock swung her back again, only to bring her crashing into your hips once more. Every swing sent you deeper, every impact more intense than the last, leaving her trembling and breathless.

Your hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as you repeated the motion, pushing her away and letting her swing back into you, the hammock amplifying the force of every thrust. Kazuha's entire body trembled beneath you, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure became too much to bear.

"Oh god—please," she whimpered, her body swinging back into you again. The rhythm of the hammock and your powerful thrusts left her breathless, the force of each movement driving you deeper into her.

You grinned darkly, watching her unravel beneath you. "You feel that, Zuha?" you growled, your eyes dark with lust. "You're taking every inch of me."

As her body swung back into you again, your thrusts became harder, stronger, each one meeting her with an overwhelming intensity. Kazuha's breath came in ragged gasps, her entire body trembling in the silks as she was rocked back and forth, every movement sending you deeper inside her.

But then, Kazuha instinctively leaned forward slightly, using her weight to move toward you as she swung back into your hips. Your eyes glinted with desire as you took the opportunity, grabbing her weightless body mid-swing and slamming her back into you with even more force.

Kazuha's body jolted violently with the impact, her eyes fluttering closed as you began pounding into her harder and harder, your thrusts driving her deeper with each movement. You weren't holding back anymore, your hands gripping her hips tightly as you met each swing with a powerful thrust that sent you even impossibly deep inside her.

Kazuha gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the pleasure became overwhelming. Her legs trembled, her entire body quivering uncontrollably in the hammock as you drove into her relentlessly. Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through her core, the sensation so intense that she could barely breathe.

"You're mine," you growled, your voice rough with desire. "All mine, Zuha, say it."

"I-I'm yours," she panted, "all yours, every part of me is claimed by you."

The force of your thrusts, combined with the swinging motion of the hammock, left Kazuha on the verge of collapse. Her vision blurred, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure consumed her. She could feel herself losing control, her body trembling violently as you pounded into her with unrelenting force.

"Please, can I cum, it's so deep," Kazuha whimpered, her voice trembling as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. Her legs were shaking, her entire body quivering as the intense pleasure pushed her closer and closer to the breaking point.

In response to her desperate plea, you reached out, your hands finding purchase on her weightless, hanging body. With a surge of strength, you brought her hips to meet yours with an unbelievable pace, each thrust harder and faster than the last. The hammock swayed wildly, a pendulum of passion, as you drove her further into the abyss of pleasure.

The world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you locked in a dance as old as time. The rhythm of your bodies moving in harmony, the crescendo building with each passionate stroke, was all that mattered. Kazuha's body arched, her muscles tensing as she finally surrendered to the overwhelming force within her.

You could feel it too—her body trembling, her warmth clenching around you as you drove into her faster and harder. You leaned down, your breath hot against her skin as you groaned, "Cum for me, baby." and with a cervix kissing thrust, you buried yourself deep inside her, holding Kazuha in place as her body convulsed in your arms.

She let out an ear piercing scream, her entire body shuddering as another orgasm tore through her, even more intense than the previous. Her legs quivered, her pussy clenching and pulsing around you as the waves of pleasure overtook her. It was a sight to behold—her body, a temple of ecstasy, responding to your touch with such unbridled intensity.

You weren’t far behind. You groaned loudly, resuming the rhythmic jerking of your hips as your own climax hit you hard. You released her hips and let go completely, pulling out of her just in time to finish. The force of your release sent streams of your hot, creamy seed spraying across Kazuha’s trembling body.

Thick streams of your essence splattered onto her slick, trembling pussy, coating her toned abs. even slightly reaching her flushed face. Kazuha gasped softly as she felt the warm sensation spread across her skin, her entire body still quivering from the intensity of her second orgasm.

Her abs flexed involuntarily with each aftershock, her muscles taut and trembling as you stood above her, panting heavily. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you watched the last drops of your release drip down her body, mixing with the sheen of sweat on her skin. For a moment, you couldn’t move, mesmerized by the sight of Kazuha’s limp, weightless form hanging in the air, her body gently swinging back and forth as she lay dazed and spent.

Kazuha’s legs twitched slightly, her eyes half-lidded as she floated in and out of consciousness, the aftershocks still rippling through her core. Her entire body quivered, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as the hammock continued to sway gently beneath her. Her skin glistened in the low light, her muscles still trembling from the overwhelming intensity of it all.

Your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath, leaning over her slightly, captivated by the sight of her completely undone, quivering and dazed in the silks. You reached out, your fingers brushing softly over her slick abs, feeling the way her body twitched beneath your touch.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice still rough from the exertion. “That was incredible.”

Kazuha let out a soft, tired moan, her head rolling slightly as her body swung gently, still too weak to move. She was completely spent, her body trembling uncontrollably as the last waves of pleasure washed over her. Your touch lingered on her skin, the weight of your hand grounding her as she floated in a haze of exhaustion and satisfaction.

You watched her carefully, your heart pounding as you took in the sight of her—dazed, quivering, and utterly at your mercy. You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her sweat-slicked forehead before pulling back, letting her swing gently in the hammock, her body still pulsing from the intensity of what you’d shared.

The room was filled with the soft creaking of the hammock and the quiet sound of your ragged breathing. Kazuha’s body still quivered, her legs trembling as she hung limply in the silks, completely spent and overwhelmed by the intensity of everything that had just happened. Her head tilted back, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but her eyes, wide and filled with emotion, glistened with unshed tears.

Her lips parted as she tried to speak, her voice shaky and fragmented. “I... I love you...” she whispered, her breath catching as tears welled up in her eyes. “I... can’t... believe... it... was so...good”

Kazuha, her body still resonating with the aftershocks of an intense climax, lay in the hammock, its soft sway a mere whisper against the tumultuous feelings coursing through her. The tears that welled in her eyes were not born of sorrow but of an overwhelming sense of love and awe, a testament to the profound connection that had just been shared.

Your heart, as the observer of her vulnerability, swelled with a tender affection. Seeing her so exposed, her body quivering and her eyes brimming with love, triggered an instinctive desire within you to care for her, to ensure her well-being amidst the emotional tempest.

"Shh, Zuha," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm as you drew nearer, your words infused with warmth and concern. "I've got you, love. I know... I know it was a lot."

Her breath caught as she attempted once more to voice her feelings, her words barely audible through the tears that escaped down her cheeks. "I... I love you... so much," she whispered, her voice fractured by the intensity of her emotions. "I've never... felt anything like that..."

Your heart ached with the love you held for her, prompting you to gently brush away the tears that threatened to overshadow her beauty. Aware of her delicate state, you leaned in, your voice soft and reassuring as you spoke words of love and admiration.

"You're amazing, Zuha," you whispered, your fingers tracing the contours of her face with a featherlight touch. "You did so well. You're perfect, and I love you so much."

The depth of her experience was etched in every tremble of her body, in every shaky breath she took. You remained by her side, your hands resting gently on her thighs, grounding her with your presence and steady voice.

Kazuha stirred, trying to sit up, her hands tugging slightly at the binds as if testing her strength, but her body, still tender and drained, struggled to obey. Determination flickered in her gaze, mingling with the vulnerability that softened her expression. Her movements were slight, every attempt revealing just how spent she truly was.

A gentle smile played across your lips as you reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder to soothe her, grounding her in your warmth and presence. "Shh, don’t rush it, Kazuha," you murmured, your tone calm and soft, laced with love and assurance. "I’ll help you down once you’re ready. Just rest for a little while longer, okay?"

She looked up at you, her breath still coming in soft, uneven waves, as she relaxed back into the hammock, her body trusting your support. She nodded slowly, her gaze melting into yours, comforted by your words, letting go of the need to rise too soon.

"It's okay," you soothed, your thumb making slow, comforting circles on her leg. "Just relax now, love, let me know when your ready"

As time passed, her breathing slowed, the tremors subsiding as her muscles relaxed and the tension melted away. You continued your soft-spoken assurances, allowing her the space and time she needed to find her equilibrium once more, your presence steady and unwavering, giving her the peace to simply be.

Her eyelids fluttered, a sign that the intensity was waning, and her breath found a steadier rhythm, though the evidence of her tears still clung to her lashes. A tender smile graced your lips as you watched her, her body finally still, the remnants of her trembling fading with each peaceful breath.

The hammock’s gentle rocking gradually ceased, and in the newfound stillness, you whispered her name, a note of concern lacing your voice. “Zuha?”

There was no reply. Her body, once wracked with the power of her emotions, now lay completely at ease. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene, her breathing soft and regular.

“Zuha?” you called again, this time more softly, as you leaned in to check on her. It was then you realized she had succumbed to the overwhelming intensity of your shared experience, her body and mind surrendering to a state of unconsciousness.

For a moment, you simply watched her in the hammock, her body still weightless and suspended in the silks. Her legs, still folded above her, swayed ever so slightly, while her chest rose and fell with the soft rhythm of sleep. The sight of her, so completely at ease, filled you with an overwhelming sense of affection. You couldn’t help but wear a tender smile, recognizing the profound journey you’d taken her on—a place of such intensity that it had left her completely spent, needing the solace of sleep to recuperate.

With a reverence that bordered on the sacred, you reached up to free her from the silks. Your hands moved with deliberate care, untangling her limbs with a gentleness that left her repose undisturbed. Kazuha’s body remained pliant in your hands, her breathing a steady lullaby as you unraveled her from the hammock’s embrace. Once she was free, you carefully gathered her into your arms. She was a dead weight, her energy sapped by the evening’s events, yet even in sleep, a serene smile lingered on her lips—a silent acknowledgment of the trust and comfort she found in your presence.

You carried her to the bedroom, a sanctuary where you could care for her further. As you laid her on the bed, you noticed the torn fabric of her yoga leggings, a lingering reminder of the night’s passion. With a gentle touch, you peeled the material away, revealing the marks of your shared intensity. Her skin, still glistening with the evidence of your release, told a story of pleasure and surrender.

Taking a soft cloth, you began to clean her, your touch as light as a whisper. You wiped her abs, her inner thighs, and finally, her face, tenderly removing the physical traces of your lovemaking. As you carefully slid off her sports bra, revealing her completely, you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty that lay before you, still adorned with the subtle glow of shared ecstasy.

With the task complete, you set the cloth aside and slipped into bed beside her. Gently, you pulled the covers over both of you, then wrapped your arms around her, drawing her close. Instinctively, she curled into you, her head finding its natural resting place on your chest. In her sleep, she sought your warmth, her body molding to yours as she sighed in contentment.

Looking down at her, your heart brimmed with love and a fierce sense of protection. “I love you so much.” you whispered, your words a gentle benediction.

She remained in a deep, peaceful sleep, her body in a state of perfect repose, but your words hung in the air, a silent vow that enveloped the room. You held her, a guardian in the quietude, feeling the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing as it matched your own. This moment, so intimate and tender, carried its own weight, its own significance, a quiet testament to the depth of your relationship.

As you lay together, the silence of the bedroom wrapped around you like a cocoon. The love you felt for her, magnified by the vulnerability and trust you’d both embraced, filled you with a profound sense of gratitude. The experiences you’d shared had woven your lives even closer, deepening a connection that felt boundless.

With Kazuha nestled safely in your arms, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of your shared love settle around you. In this quiet, contented space, you drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that what you shared was rare and precious. And in the sanctity of the night, the two of you rested, wrapped in the certainty of your love.

[st4rbwrry]

𝒩𝒪𝒪𝒦𝐼𝐸.

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: getou isn’t fond of the new gardener you hired who’s clearly flirting with you when he’s not home.

warnings ౨ৎ 2.7k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, cunninglingus/face riding, cottage core au? + getou’s a farmer, missionary in da kitchen, praising ofc, exhibitionism, jealousy, possessiveness, getou’s kinda rude, sub / dom dynamic, established relationship, rough play, m oral, impact play, unprotected, pet names ex. [ baby, sweetheart ], minors aren’t welcomed! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

getou doesn’t appreciate that you aren’t greeting him with his usual kisses after you raise on your tippy toes to smooch him after he comes home from a long day of churning butter and tending to livestock. it doesn’t make him happy to know that you’re not tending to his attention and rather giving it to another man after he strolls through your large kitchen, that he built for you, to head into the back of your farmhouse to find you giggling and conversing with the new gardener. a gardener that you personally hired that he had yet to meet.

he could smell the pan of shepherds pie and cornbread in the oven, ignoring the way his stomach growls hungrily and it quickly being consumed with irritation. you’re wearing your cute pink apron with tiny patterns of sunflowers and bunnies as you hold a woven basket of freshly picked strawberries the man before you tossed into. having a conversation about fucking strawberries. he didn’t expect this man to be. . . of your type. tall, nice smile, good hair, makes you laugh a little too fucking hard. what about fruits could possibly be so fucking funny, [♡]?

“what a surprise,” getou’s voice is laced with annoyance, deep and causing the two to go silent as he makes his way down the steps to stand directly next to you. you blink, knowing your husband very well and easily you could tell he’s off.

“hi, baby! this is matteo, he’s our new gardener! we were talking a lot about the new setup i plan on having!” the smile on your face is pure, looking back and forth between getou and your gardener. “he just started today.”

“hey, man. nice to meet you. your wife told me all about you,” matteo remains professional, extending his hand for a handshake. you roll your lips in, waiting for your husband to comply with respect. it’s silent as you stare between both men, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck rise from anxiousness.

“mhm,” is all getou can say, matteo taken aback by his approach. it’s extremely rude, and you blink excessively to keep your composure. taking a deep breath, you form a tight lipped smile towards your gardener.

“excuse me for a moment,” you speak, side eyeing getou before pulling him to the side, matteo continuing his job by picking juicy fruits from their stems.

“what’s your deal? that was fucking rude,” you denounce, gawking up at him with a raised brow. getou folds his bulky arms, not understanding how you’re acting dumb right now. you knew this would piss him off.

getou leans down to get closer to you, lips inches from your ear. “who told you to hire somebody like this?"

"hire somebody like what?" the man retaliates, overhearing getou’s weak attempt of whispering to you, taking offense. regardless, he spoke on his name when he was right there.

getou turns his face only an inch or so, barely giving the man full attention. you swallow, his face nearly touching your own possessively, like an animal protecting it’s mate. getou then switches his eyes fully, intensely staring at the man. "like someone she'd fuck."

his immature response causes you to step away from him with a look of disgust, brows pinched with anger. you couldn’t believe his mouth. you’re not sure what the fuck’s gotten into him, but it wasn’t cute. quite frankly, he looked stupid.

“you’re making a fucking fool of yourself,” you spat, eyes burning. knocking your head back in the sweet gardeners direction, you hold your hand over your heart apologetically. “i am truly sorry for my husband’s rudeness. please forgive me for this, but i think it’s best if you go. i will give you a call tomorrow. i’m sorry again.”

the man nods only once, keeping his focus solely on you, not even bothering to glance in your husband’s direction. his possessiveness a black cloud over the party. “it’s not a problem at all. have a great rest of your day, ma’am.”

the minute your gardener is out of view, that’s when you give getou an irritated snarl, looking him up and down as if the man had no shame. which he didn’t, and that was the problem. “what is wrong with you?!”

getou intakes air as you strut away angrily, heading back into your kitchen to adapt into the ignoring him bubble and completely tuning into your dinner prepping. since you have freshly picked strawberries, you decided to start a mixture for muffins you could sell to the neighborhood tomorrow morning. a festival was being held at the ranch a few blocks down, already promising a few ladies you’d whip something up sweet.

getou follows behind, studying as you huff and puff to yourself while gathering eggs, milk and other things you needed.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“because it’s fucking stupid. why’d i hire someone to help me out? oh my god, such a mystery.”

“you’re being immature.”

that causes you to stop all movements. holding onto the edges of the island and staring at him with disbelief, mouth actually drawn open as you scoff. “i’m immature? because you didn’t just disrespect that man for no reason. you know him or sum?”

“don’t act slow. you hired that man ‘cause he’s someone you can eye fuck when i’m not home. don’t pretend you don’t find him attractive,” getou grits his teeth.

you roll your eyes. “ohh, so it’s jealousy! why would i want to cheat on someone i’m in love with? you’re being extremely distrustful. take that shit out of my kitchen, suguru.”

“say that again,” he’s approaching you now, getou observing as you cross your arms and pretend to be unfazed by how much bigger he was compared to you. his bare feet thumps along the floor as he nears you, hands in the pockets of his dark washed jeans, shoulders broad as he stared down at you darkly. now your body’s pressed up against the kitchen counter, turning your head the opposite way to avoid eye contact.

“suguru,” you stand on what you say, uncaring. your husband deviously grins.

getou kisses his teeth smugly. you practically moan when his hand grips your jaw to bring your attention back, fingers denting into your cheeks to make your lips pout, head tilted back. “watch that mouth of yours. there’s no need to be bratty.”

teeth sinks into your lips he gawks at for a split second before meeting your eyes again. a feeble noise comes from you as he swiftly pulls up your white sundress, hands on the backs of your thighs to spread you open, fingers pulling your pussy open. not surprised to see you weren't wearing underwear. really, that pisses him off even further. it’s windy out and you were engaging in conversation with that man knowing your pussy was bare. he wants to laugh, seeing how wet you are already. fucking nympho. even though you’re mad, you can’t ignore how hot his touch makes you. you gulp, holding onto the edge of the counter as your gut flips after he crouched on one knee.

his breath hits your clit, and instantly your thighs tremble, getou slowly sticking his tongue out his mouth, wide, long, and slick with saliva. it hovers over your clit, barely touching it. part of you wants to grab his hair and shove him down, but the look in his eyes says not to try it. his fingers come up to your face, extending two of the long digits inside of your mouth. you suck obediently, moaning around them while rolling forward towards his, aching for it. his free hand smacks your inner thigh causing you to release his fingers and whimper, getou wasting zero time and curling them deep into you, shaking them frivolously as his lips suction on your clit, kissing your pussy deeply, using so much saliva.

his stare is hard on you the entire time, wrist moving instantaneously as he fucks you with them. he’s having a ball watching you wither and roll your hips, squealing and raising your thighs higher to your chest, listening to his fingers slam into you, that gushing sound of your pussy coating his fingers.

"c-can’t. . .”

"shut up," briskly, he pulls his fingers out and spanks your clit with them, standing to his feet, towering over you. you rest your head back against the wall by the window, shifting your body since your ass hurt a little from being on a granite countertop.

most of his words are blocked out as you watch the sexually pent-up man drag his pants down until they sit at his waist, pussy clenching at the dark pubic hairs sticking out, lust in your eyes as his veiny, big hand fists his cock. the thick vein leading up to the crown leaking precum makes you smile hazily.

"look at me when i’m talking to you."

you're too fucking mesmerized by him. his slightly dirty white tshirt is hiked up now, godly sculpted abs enticing you to run your fingers over them with a giddy laugh. getou tilts his head to the side, clenching his jaw.

"hey," he calls to you, snapping his fingers twice in your face, voice deeper than usual. you can see that he's not up for bullshit. he’s arched over you, hair sticking to his forehead as he places his right hand on your lower back, arching into him until your chest presses against his. "listen to me when i talk to you, woman.”

the smell of his skin is intoxicating, reaching your hands behind him to claw at his ass, open mouth on his chin, moaning as he slides deep into you, looking down at you with a groan escaping his throat, furrowing his thick brows. getou tries not to lose it, because despite his frustration, there's no way he could deny just how fucking good you felt pulling him deep right now. you hold tight, eyes hazy as he pounds into you without another word, arm stretching over to press his palm on the cabinet above, balancing himself and dragging you to meet him thrust for thrust.

"pussy so needy for me. it fuckin’ better be,” please shut up, is what you think. his voice is too damn addictive, and the way he fucks you, virulently, like he fucking despised you . . . you didn't know if you could take much more. the other half of your brain is the opposite, thanking him over and over.

"oh, look, princess. there’s your favorite man,” it doesn't register that the two of you are legit fucking near an open window where anyone could see. “let’s say hi, baby."

unsure why he came back, it only takes ten seconds for your sweet gardener to immediately be swept with trauma, catching a glimpse at the two of you, getou’s dark eyes burning into him while yours are shut to hide the embarrassment, stomach still flipping with rouse. his fingers has your jaw locked still to keep your fucked out face in the direction of the man who’s nothing short of unimpressed. tasteless, he thinks. wasting no time and turning away to hop back inside of his truck, only coming because he forgot to give you back the key to your garage. his lips are by your ear now. "looks like we’ll have to hire someone else.”

"you’re s-so . . . mean,” it’s the only thing you can think of, trembling and yanking your face out of his grasp. you wanna say you hate him, but deep down you knew this is what you've been craving all along. he’s exactly how you wanted him to be; lecherous. "fuck, can’t stand you.”

"you love me, sweetheart,” he coed, you hiccup. sobbing as he throws one of your legs over his arm, angling his hips slightly to the right and hitting into you faster, rolling your neck back, listening to how viscous his skin claps with your own, and his breath fans over your face.

"awe," he pouts, giving your forehead a chaste kiss. "y‘not gonna say it back?”

“d’nt deserve it,” you’re slurring your words and it pisses you off how dumb he makes you. his hand is around your neck now, choking you until you feel the blood rushing to your skull, luring the back of your own hand to your lips, using it as some sort of blockage for how loud you were being. louder than usual.

inching his lips towards yours, he studies how desperate you are to latch your lips with his, only for him to snatch them away. “then you don’t deserve my kiss.”

a frustrated whine leaves your throat, getou humming tauntingly, delicately skimming his bitten red lips over yours with a moan following along with a whispered ‘no’. tightening his lock around your neck, he rolls his hips deeper, your hand clutching his wrist with tears in your eyes. “not until you tell me you love me.”

you gently sink your teeth into the back of your hand, getou leaning closer before sloppily kissing at your palm where your lips rested, an evil stare painted his expression. he sucks, licks, and moans on your hand, knowing you were wishing he'd do that to your mouth instead. fuck, that was enough to get you to the breaking point. thighs trembling as you drop your mouth open, nothing coming out.

"wait, are you gonna cum?" his mouth upturns as he widens his eyes and mouth with fake surprise. "you’re cumming, aren't you? don’t cum. if you cum, i’ll stop."

"suguru, fucking stop—"

"stop what, huh? why you talkin' back?" shoving his thumb in your mouth, he fucks you harder, body jolting as your eyes roll back and your mouth drools, clutching his wrist harder to keep him there. "weren't you gonna cum?"

"yessss!" you wail, tears falling down your eyes. that coil in the pit of your stomach is ready to snap, getou’s sadistic voice ringing in your ears as he praises you, hips ramming harder to get you to break, clutching the back of his neck and screaming into his chest, giving him the answer he wants, riding the wave. "love you. love you.”

“good girl, good girl,” he proceeds to fuck you through it, just enough until you're pushing at his stomach to stop, kissing up the side of his neck drunkenly. getou slides out of you, holding back a moan before he's grabbing your hand and pulling you off the counter, holding your waist so you don't fall over.

"knees, now."

you're more than happy to lower to your knees, already knowing what to prepare for, lulled, teary eyes focusing on him and the slick coated cock stretching over your face. you hold onto the back of his thighs, widening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, getou holding your head still before gliding his dick inside the cave of heat now inundating him, jaw dropping, using the other hand to hold the cabinet once more and mercilessly fucking your throat. his moans are coarse, grunting and throwing his head back, hips stuttering as he holds you still and shoots deep in your mouth, cursing thousands of times he nearly filled the dictionary.

"swallow it and show me," and you do, without hesitation, sticking your tongue out proudly and it makes getou even prouder. "that’s my girl."

"whatever," you wipe the side of your mouth, getou lifting you off the floor, legs still too weak to function.

“there’s that mouth again, sweetheart. cut it short before i fuck you harder,” oh, he’s serious. that darkness in his eyes telling you not to try it again.

“s-sorry, baby. love you,” you give him those pretty doe eyes he falls weak to, rubbing your hands over his waist while placing your chin on his chest. batting your lashes innocently.

getou hums. “tell me that after you get rid of that fuckin’ gardener.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[antimony-medusa]

But what do you MEAN this fic where blorbo gets mind controlled might be kinky?

So I am kind of famous for saying that this fandom has a lot of untagged kinks and I get people in my notes pretty regularly going YES I"M BEGGING YOU TAG IT or YOU"RE DERANGED THIS IS PLATONIC, etc. Lots of strong emotions. But I also get people who are going uh, I knew something was going on, but I couldn't really identify it— what do you mean exactly? What kinks are you seeing?

So, this post is breaking down things I've seen and how in some cases, they start to cross the line into kink territory. These are all things that were being done platonically— no dicks were out, everybody's clothes were on (in most cases, not always with the dehumanization tropes)— but the focus of the narrative started to place special weight on specific features, experiences, or concepts— there were extended paragraphs that served no narrative purpose except to dwell on something— in a way that I started to go "the point of this fic is the squiggly feeling the author or reader gets on reading about this specific setup— this is getting kinky". And that is fine, I am not placing any moral weight on engaging in kinks— people just get wired sometimes to really like the concept of bondage— but a) sometimes it would be nice to get a heads up as a reader, b) if you like these things— there are tags out there that are FULL of this concept, you might like to do it or search it out on purpose.

So I asked some friends what things have they found in platonic fics that they went "ah. yeah. something is happening here", and this post is the result. A lot of these things don't exist in the real world or people don't necessarily want them to happen in the real world/to them, so it's understandable that a person can miss how they'd started to morph and become something new. But when we talk about kink in fiction we're often talking about things that either can't or we don't want to happen in real life, it's just that reading about them/writing them scratches our brain.

And also, to be clear, in no way do I mean that if you've written these concepts then you definitely have been writing kink. There are vanilla ways to do all of these concepts, and sometimes the idea of dehumanization is interesting to you from a narrative standpoint, for example. You can also engage with them in a non-sexual way— many ace people are very kinky— so I'm not saying that you've secretly been writing porn OR writing something you have a real desire to happen to you. Just to make that clear. However, if you keep coming back to a specific setup for writing or reading, it might be worth investigating if certain things scratch your brain in a specific way.

So.

Blorbo gets mind controlled and there's a detailed breakdown of their descent into this altered state and then they're just so biddable and out of it and vulnerable and the narrative places weight either on someone taking advantage of them in this state, taking care of them, or their own subjective experience having lost control: this is hypnokink. Hypnokink or mind control— lots of ways to do it, but there is a thriving hypnosis or hypnokink scene that you might want to look into. Sometimes this is played for horror, but even the horror stuff can be kinky if played in a certain way. This falls under a larger umbrella of "altered states" that is very popular.

Blorbo gets drugged/intoxicated, often against their will, and heavy narrative weight is placed on their experience while drunk/drugged and unable to control themselves or conceptualize what is happening: this is intox kink. Another altered state— and again this is sometimes used for horror, but even the horror can give you the special tinglies if the dread is mixed with something.

Blorbo is turned into a vampire or taken by a vampire, gets drunk from or drinks blood, and there's specific narrative focus on how good the blood tastes, blood from a wound trickling down over someone's body and maybe being licked up, a hunger being sated— so vampires are a longstanding trope that can be done in a strictly horror way, but a LOT of vampire tropes are deeply kinky along the ideas of possession, loss of bodily autonomy, fear/desire, and consumption. This, for example, I have definitely read dipping into bloodplay or consumption kink. Sometimes blood drinking scenes are directly metaphorical for sex, including narrative tension building to a release where someone feels so good, but also there are other elements, such as a focus on blood that gets kinky.

Blorbo has wings that get preened, and it feels so good they can't hold back instinctive movements and sounds (maybe bird sounds) and they're so grateful and bond so much with the person doing it with them— This is wing kink. This is actually the first trope in this fandom that I identified that some things were happening with, because I was reading these fics that had been recommended to me as family fluff going— am I crazy or is something else happening here? Wingfic has been broadly used as a platonic/familial trope in this fandom, however, the structure of the scenes in which it is written about sometimes has heavy crossover with wingfic in other fandoms, where they are using it as a smut trope— the fic just didn't have anyone literally orgasm at the end. But if there's involuntary sounds or movement from the person with the wings, a focus on how pleasurable it feels, a feeling of release or rightness that someone gives the person with wings, and then they cuddle afterwards— yeah.

Blorbo is terrified and chased by a monster of some kind, with a heavy focus on how frightened they are, how inexorable the monster is, and something bad going to happen, and/or the monster chasing them enjoying their terror— this can just be horror. OR it can be fear play or predator/prey. Sometimes it's both.

Blorbo is confronted by monsters (perhaps giants or aliens) who are much bigger than them and the threat of being eaten by them is narratively focused on, either bitten or swallowed whole. Sometimes in the narrative the eating happens, either safely or to their death— this is vore. Being eaten alive is also a horror trope so it isn't always vore, but it is sometimes most certainly vore.

Aliens or monsters/hybrids much bigger than blorbo have them as family/friends/romantic partners/captives: this is giant/tiny. Sometimes just a science fiction au but if there's a lot of weight being placed on how big they are and how small blorbo is, this could be g/t. Borrower aus can frequently start to fall into this category. If they're not THAT big but there's focus on things like "oh they can span my waist with one hand", this can be size kink, instead. (Note that to my knowledge the platonic version is giant/tiny and sexual is micro/macro— there's a thriving platonic scene I sometimes see when I'm cruising tags, so if you like this you might want to check that out.)

Blorbo is non-consensually touched, cuddled, or modified, and narrative focus is placed on this as a violation/outrage/loss of bodily autonomy: again, this is something that can just be a horror trope, but there is often a larger or smaller strain of consent issues in it. If blorbo doesn't want it at first but eventually feels at home in the nest and feels good, that's dubcon (dubious consent), and if they are fighting it and raging against it and will never be part of your family, that starts to overlap with noncon (non-consent). Blorbo's bodily autonomy is being non-consentually violated, which would put it under the consent issues umbrella. I think many people writing these tropes are simply focusing on captivity and bad things happening to blorbo— when one is a prisoner they automatically lose bodily autonomy, and I don't think that every fic set in a dungeon requires a consent issues tag— and additionally many people are writing from family settings that include bodily autonomy being violated (being forced to hug your aunt you don't want to hug, for example, is an example that many of us have experienced). Not every example of non-consensual touching is always consent issues. However, when the narrative focus is on the outrage and betrayal of it all, the loss of control, and/or the helplessness, this can start to serve a different narrative function in a story than simply illustrating that a family is touchy. I have read scenes that structurally function as a thinly-veiled metaphor for sexual assault, including things like blorbo being held down while they fight against what is being done to their body. Some of these could have used additional tagging. Note: because this is such a hot button topic I should mention that if you like writing or reading this I do not think that means you are a fan of violence happening in the real world— a) reading a bad thing happening on the page makes it containable and controllable in a way that the real world does not, people also like to read about murder and dismemberment— b) simply the presence of a happy ending tag on a fic contextualizes that the bad thing is something to be passed through in a way that again, the real world does not offer. This is a similar thing to torture, suicide, or slavery, where sometimes you want to see blorbo have a bad fictional time specifically in things that would be terrible in real life, and in your real life you do not condone police brutality or want these things to happen. Again, sometimes people like to read about people being eaten alive, and it does not mean they condone wolves on the streets.

Blorbo is captured by alien/fae and kept as a pet, sometimes kept in a cage or collared, unable to communicate with the people holding them: this is often tagged as dehumanization and it is that, but it also starts to contain elements of pet play. If there is an emphasis on having to eat pet food, be "trained" by their owner, leashing/collaring/crating— this may be pet play.

Adult or near-adult blorbo is adopted and take care of by a new dad who knows everything to keep them safe and loves them and can take care of them and they can just let go and be their new sonboy because Dad's got them: Right. So this is sometimes just someone writing a "wouldn't it be nice to be taken care of" fantasy. Sometimes this is Daddy kink. This is almost never tagged and in some cases that I have read it certainly deserves an additional tag. An adult Daddy or Mommy figure taking care of their adult Little who can just be taken care of and not worry is a d/s trope. In some cases, where you have an established adult with a job who gets taken by magical means who then finds their true home as a powerful being's new child where they don't have to worry about their former life and they mentally find comfort in their new role as sonboy, this may also be Caregiver/Little. Direct age regression (often written by people who experience it) is usually tagged appropriately, but narrative elements that nod to that while not actually being age regression, such as an adult being now treated as a child and the narrative presenting that as good, are remarkably common and often entirely untagged in certain tags/circles. If someone could look at your fic and expect adult peers and then this happens, you should consider tagging or phrasing your summary differently.

Blorbo has hybrid instincts that overcome their cognitive functioning and make them revert to an instinctive form such that they can only be calmed/soothed by another hybrid of a different type: now this at this point is basically its own trope and I am fascinated to see if this trope expands out of MCYT as people move to new fandoms. However, it shares a startling amount of overlap with omegaverse. One of the primary draws of omegaverse for many people is the biologically determined altered states and the fated-mates aspect, and hybrids reverting to instincts and needing particular care from a perfect family is often beat for beat things I've read in omegaverse, just platonic. When you have a biologically determined "protector" figure and a biologically determined "runt" whose job is to be taken care of and to submit to the protector, and this is required to calm the protector, it also has strong overlap with BDSM aus.

Blorbo is captured or contained and tied up, and narrative emphasis is placed on their experience of being bound and struggling against restraints or just how impossible to escape from the restraints are: this is bondage. I have had friends who are into this mention that they used to tie up their barbies as children, so again, as with all of these, this can be perfectly platonic— but something about that concept just seems particularly satisfying to the writer, perhaps it is more than just set dressing.

Blorbo is captured and there is strong emphasis on them being hurt or the waves of pain rolling over them as they are tortured: this is just an honourable whump trope, but a lot of whump tropes if handled in a specific way have strong crossover with BDSM. Lack of ability to move or restriction of senses, loss of control— or, as with this, an emphasis on pain or inflicting pain, which can cover sadism or masochism depending on our POV.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and only finds comfort in submitting to the authority of someone who they completely trust, whether because of past trauma or because of hybrid instincts: this is d/s, or domination/submission. If there's specific emphasis on allowing someone to take control finally makes blorbo's head go quiet, that's subspace.

Blorbo is marked or indicated as belonging to someone, either through something like an earring or a brand/tattoo or a magical mark, so that anyone who looks at them will know that they belong to someone: again, this can just be horror, but especially if it's framed as a good/satisfying thing, it also can contain strong crossover with BDSM, especially master/slave elements.

Blorbo is transformed and corrupted, often being bodily changed into a new form by aliens or fae or mobs: this is obviously body horror, but this can also be transformation kink. This is a narrative trope in SF and horror so someone can approach this completely innocently, but when handled in less of a horror way, it can take on other undertones. If there is a strong emphasis on the innocence and unprepared nature of blorbo before being changed into what someone wants them to be, this can be corruption kink as well.

Blorbo dresses up for a fancy event and there's emphasis on how specifically they look, or maybe blorbo is looking at someone else and thinking about how THEY look in their formalwear: sometimes this is just description and/or the author likes textiles. I have also read things where I think the author would get a lot of joy out of pursuing the formalwear kink tag.

Blorbo finally gets told that they did a good job and everyone is complimentary or a specific trusted figure is complimentary, they're appreciated and loved and good: sometimes this is just someone writing a fantasy of blorbo being appreciated. Sometimes this is praise kink. If blorbo is being held by their parent or mentor or trusted elder sibling who is telling them that they're good, everyone is wrong about them, they know that they're good, this could be praise kink.

Touch-starved blorbo finally is given good touch and they are overwhelmed and don't know how to handle it and it feels so good: I did even know this was a thing until I asked for examples, but a friend let me know that this falls under the "touch sensitive" or "sensation play" umbrella. If you have spent time in a touch-starved tag, you have almost definitely seen this.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and bursts into tears and either cries a lot or heavy narrative weight is placed on them crying at important moments when it all becomes too much: this is not always, but can certainly be, dacryphilia.

Blorbo fucks up and is made fun of by all their peers, placed on centre stage and just mercilessly mocked: sometimes you are just whumping the character, and sometimes this can be humiliation kink.

Blorbo is tickled. That's the whole scene/fic. Okay so you actually may know this if you cruise character tags, but tickling is a kink and there are several blogs devoted to it on this website. If the whole point of this scene is the tickling, the character losing control and being overwhelmed, the person doing it to them having them at their control— this may be the kink.

Blorbo just keeps sneezing at inopportune times, they keep losing control and can't keep themselves from being overwhelmed by this: this can be sneeze kink.

Blorbo has finally made it to safety, maybe after a time of privation and starvation, and then there's whole scenes with an emphasis on how much they eat, how full and round they're getting, maybe them eating to the point of getting sick, maybe burping, maybe them having difficulty moving because of how much they've eaten. Food as part of recovery or safety can just be a healing trope, and food as a metaphor for love and community is a favoured tag of many of us in the fandom, but if the emphasis is especially on the eating and the getting full, how full the person feels, how much they can eat— this could be feederism.

Blorbo is injured or killed and there's a huge emphasis on the wounds, dismemberment, focus on gore and how bad it is and how much they're coming to pieces: this can be guro. If the person dies at the end of it and there's emphasis on that, this can also be snuff. Or maybe it's just gore/MCD, but some fics and some scenes dwell on it in such a way that you start to ask if this is intended to be horror or if something else is happening.

Blorbo is dressed up beautifully and looks so good in their new outfit, maybe to the point that the person who dressed them doesn't want them to move, just sit and be admired: this can be dollification, or kinking specifically on being dressed.

Blorbo is going through a medical examination and specific focus is placed on the impersonal aspect, being manhandled or examined by tools or gloved hands, they are the somewhat-dehumanized medical subject of professionals: this is sometimes horror or dehumanization, but it can also be medical kink.

Blorbo and blorbo's friend are ride or die beyond reason, they're a crew, they're found family (not biological), there is Two Of Them (or Five Of Them), they have each other's backs to the end. So loyalty is just a great character beat to hit that people have visited since time immemorial. You can also loyalty kink, when a person refusing to abandon their person(s) just hits just right. I'm not saying that everything under the found family umbrella falls under this, cause it doesn't, but if you have a particular attachment to works tagged [blorbo] & [blorbo] are best friends, or Loyalty, or crew as family, or [blorbo group] is a family but exploring nuclear-family aspects of this is not what makes a fic light up neon in your mind, it might might be worth considering if this is something you'd want to add to your list of likes.

Blorbo is really good at their job, and either respected for it and save the day with their skills or underestimated and show everybody by having the perfect skill at the right moment. More people are tangentially aware of this because of the TV show Leverage, which popularized the concept of "competence porn", or "non-sexual examples of scenes of people being very very good at their job but just makes you oooooo nice job", but if part of what draws you to a character is their niche skillset, or you enjoy stories that turn on characters being masters of their skills, competence kink might be something that resonates with you. Note, this sometimes just overlaps with power fantasies, because not everything in the BAMF [blorbo], tag is focused on competence per say, but if you really love your fave character being skillful, (or alternately, fics in which they are rendered powerless or pathetic tend to grate on you), you might want to explore the competence kink tag.

Blorbo is captured or pinned and rendered unable to breathe, and there is focus on pressure building in their chest, only being able to gasp for sips of air, or the person choking them having power over them, and this is presented as a narrative climax of a scene. This is choking kink, or breathplay. Also can be noted when there is particular narrative fascination with a character's hand at or on another's neck, even if pressure is not being applied.

Blorbo enters the narrative as a dude and is turned into a woman or treated as a woman, whether willingly or unwillingly, and finds this to be either a positive or negative experience. So this is sometimes a gender exploration that is deeply personal to the creator. Sometimes this is forcefem, or forced feminization. Sometimes it's both—exploring that tension between different gender paths can be both emotionally fulfilling and kinky for someone, and that's fine. And again, this can be played for horror or euphoria, but both aspects, if treated a certain way, can be kinky. This is related to a whole family of gender play concepts— for example if dude!blorbo is just dressed in traditionally feminine clothing but is not treated as a woman either by characters or the narrative, it could be crossdressing. If blorbo is a woman being turned into a man, it could be forcemasc. I want to emphasize again that breaking down gender lines is often something someone embarks on for their own gender reasons— AND it's a popular trope across many forms of media— so it's not always a kink. But it's useful to point this one out both because if you bring it up outside of circles where it's normalized, it may not be viewed as appropriate, because these are not the bog-standard ways that everyone approaches gender, presentation, identity, societal expectations, etc, and also because if someone out of the blue asks you for this trope, it's good to be aware that they might be, (whether knowingly or unknowingly), asking for fetish content.

__

So. As you can see. There are a lot of possible kinks that can be handled in a platonic way, but this doesn't mean they aren't kinky. This isn't even everything possible, this is just what came up when I asked the group chat what they personally have seen where they feel that a platonic fic could have used additional tagging.

I am not saying that any of this is wrong to be interested in these kinks, either. People get wired a lot of different ways and sometimes you just feel a certain way about formalwear. Or bondage. Or vore. Or tickling. My point is just that if any of this resonates with you, you might want to consider adding extra tags to your work (you don't even have to tag "humiliation kink," "humiliation" works just fine), and you also might want to consider checking out some tags, because there is probably a vibrant community of people who also like that and who would both love your work and would love to share their work with you.

That's it. Go with god. Now if people are going to be in my notes going HOW CAN SOMETHING PLATONIC BE KINKY I have something to link them.

[nyoomerr]

Luo Binghe Shimeji (Extended Version!)

a couple years ago, riladoo created an adorable binghe shime! he could be picked up and tossed around your computer screens, climb around on all your windows, multiply, and all the other cute things that come in the standard base shimeji set.

more recently, i reached out to riladoo with a commission request - more action sets for binghe! over the past couple months, riladoo has worked hard to make some adorable binghe art, and i've updated all the source code and config files to accommodate the new actions! 🎉

the extended action set includes: - a 'sit and eat' idle action - two 'head patting' actions when the mouse hovers over him - a 'fall and cry' action for when he falls from tall heights - a 'land nicely' action for when you place him down gently

the original binghe shime listing on riladoo's gumroad has been updated to have all these new actions, so go grab him now!! he's free / pay what you want! 🥰

i've put more details about the new action sets + general shimeji setup tips below the cut, but otherwise -- LET THE BINGHE COMPUTER INFECTION COMMENCE !!

**these extended actions only work on windows, not mac. sorry ;w; the original shime set has a mac version, though!

Extended Action Set Details

when you download the files from riladoo, you're looking for the .zip file labeled "Updated Shime code" !

sit and eat this is an idle action that will trigger randomly the same as any other idle action. if you want to trigger it manually, you can right click the shime -> 'set behavior' -> 'sit and eat'

head pats these are 'stay' actions that will trigger automatically when you hover your mouse over the shime. i recommend hovering your mouse over his head for maximum head-pat-effectiveness! unfortunately, this action won't play if the shime is actively climbing a wall/ceiling - maybe in the future this can be extended further, but for now there are only head patting actions for sitting and standing poses :>

falling variations (crying / default / land nicely) there are now a total of 3 'falling' actions. to see the 'fall and cry' action, allow binghe to fall from the top half of your monitor. to see the standard/original 'fall and trip' action, allow binghe to fall from the low-mid range portion of your monitor. to see the 'land nicely' action, gently place binghe down at the bottom of your monitor. this means you're rewarded for catching binghe when he falls off a window - if you catch him and set him down, he lands nicely, but if you let him fall normally, he'll start crying!! 🥰

Shimeji Installation Tips

if you've never had a shimeji before - don't worry, they're super easy to install! i recommend following this video tutorial created by the person who originally created the source code for shimeji. you can skip the parts about downloading the shimeji itself - you'll get that from riladoo's website :>

if you install everything but opening the shimeji executable does nothing, download jarfix to resolve this issue.

if you follow the tutorial and update the 'interactive windows' but the shime still doesn't stand/climb on the specified windows, restart your computer to resolve this issue. alternatively, make sure you don't have any 'unexpected' monitors plugged in - a friend of mine had their shime constantly falling down through their monitor onto their screen drawpad, which was confusing until it got figured out!

if you are on mac instead of windows.... i am so sorry i actually have no idea how to help 🙇‍♂️ the original/default binghe shimeji set DOES have a mac os folder in with the downloads, but i've never tested it (don't use mac), and even if it works, it won't include the extended actions (i didn't build an executable for mac with the new code).

More Questions???

feel free to hit me up! in the replies of this post / through DMs / send an ask - whatever is best for you. i'll tag any asks i get about the shime with #binghe shime chronicles so they get archived nicely. i got very familiar with all the source code / config files to get this lil guy set up with his extended actions, so hopefully i can answer any questions you have! 💪😤

that's all!! i am so happy w how the new actions turned out - the art riladoo did for them is SO cute! - and i hope y'all will be, too!

[authortelevision]

arthur frederick and the new producer: chapter 1 ₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,192 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter One ₊˚⊹♡

The building doesn’t exactly scream “successful podcast studio.” It surprisingly has a weathered brick exterior and rusted door number that makes you double-check the address on your phone. But this is it, according to the email, Bach & Arthur Podcast – Recording Studio 2.

You try the handle. Locked. After fishing through your bag, you find the key they sent you and slide it into the lock. It groans in protest, but after a sharp twist, the door swings open, revealing a narrow staircase that smells faintly of food.

The email didn’t mention a receptionist or anyone to meet you. It had, however, been clear about the time, 11 am. You’re determined not to be late on your first day.

At the top of the stairs, two doors face you. One has a taped-up sign reading Bach & Arthur Podcast in Comic Sans. You can’t help but smile to yourself. Professional. You knock, just in case, but the heavy door muffles any response.

Pushing it open, you step into a much larger, cluttered room. The recording setup is decent, microphones on boom arms, a grey sofa, with a blue curtain behind it. A black table, in front of the recording situation, is covered in half-eaten food, crumpled notes, and what looks like many cups of tea or coffee or whatever they have been drinking to get them ready.

“Hello?” you call, stepping carefully around an errant cable.

From behind a makeshift partition comes the sound of muffled voices, followed by a thud and a sharp “Ow!”

A moment later, two figures emerge. The first is tall, muscular, and bright-eyed, with a dark mullet that looks like it’s been perfectly combed through. He grins at you immediately, his energy warm and infectious.

“Hey! You must be the new producer!”

“That’s me,” you say, smiling as he approaches.

“I’m Isaac,” he says, offering a hand. “Welcome to our team.”

Behind him, the second figure appears, shorter and thinner but very toned, with brown hair and thick eyebrows. He hangs back for a moment, studying you intensely enough that makes you resist the urge to straighten your posture.

“You’re Lara’s replacement?” he questions, his tone polite but with a slight hesitation.

You state your name, stepping forward and shaking his hand when he finally extends it. His grip is firm, and his voice, when he speaks again, is softer.

“I’m Arthur. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you say. He nods but glances at Isaac almost immediately, murmuring something too low for you to catch. Isaac smirks but doesn’t reply, his gaze flicking back to you.

“We’ll miss Lara, obviously,” Arthur says after moment, meeting your eyes again. His tone is more formal this time, like he’s trying to smooth over something. “She was here from the beginning. But I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“Thanks,” you say, offering a small smile. You’re not sure what you’ve done to earn the slight edge in his voice, but you’re not going to let it rattle you.

Isaac claps his hands together, breaking the tension. “So, how are you with tech stuff? Mic levels, soundboards… all that fun stuff?”

“I can handle it,” you say, glancing at the recording setup. “I’ve been working on podcasts for a while now.”

Isaac grins. “Good answer. See, Arthur? We’re in capable hands.”

Arthur gives a tight smile, then leans toward Isaac and whispers something you can’t hear. This time, Isaac’s grin widens, and he shoots you a quick glance before whispering back.

You try not to read too much into it. People are allowed to have their doubts, it’s not your job to win everyone over on day one.

“Well,” Arthur says after a moment, more to Isaac than to you, “we’ve got a recording in twenty minutes.”

“You’re on it, right?” Isaac says, nudging you playfully. “Check the mics, make sure we’re not awkwardly out of frame, all that stuff?”

“Yes yes, of course,” you say, moving toward the desk.

Arthur watches you quietly as you adjust the boom arms and check the camera height and recording software. You can feel his gaze even when you’re not looking directly at him, and when he leans in to whisper something else to Isaac, you resist the urge to ask if they want you to leave the room.

But as you work, you catch something in Arthur’s expression that isn’t unkind, more cautious, like he isn’t quite sure how to fit you into their established rhythm. It isn’t hostility, just hesitation.

Isaac, on the other hand, seems determined to make you feel at home. “So, what’s the best podcast you’ve worked on?” he asks as you fiddle with the gain knobs.

“Probably Passing Notes,” you say, glancing up. “It’s all anonymous confessions. It’s like set in a classroom kinda thing, so you’d like pass notes secretly. I spent way too many late nights editing out overshares.”

Isaac laughs, the sound loud and easy. “That’s such a cool idea!”

Arthur offers a small, polite smile but doesn’t say much. As the recording time approaches, he leans over to you, his tone soft but unfortunately still professional.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he says. “We have a way of… winging things sometimes, but I’m usually good about staying on schedule.”

“Got it,” you say, meeting his deep brown eyes.

Arthur nods once, then moves to the filming sofa, his movements a bit rigid but calm.

As the recording starts, you settle in behind the controls, noting the interest in science between the two of them. Arthur’s laughter is quieter than Isaac’s, but genuine when it comes. And though he glances at you occasionally, it isn’t the skeptical look you feared.

It’s more like… curiosity. A guarded one, but curiosity still.

This isn’t going to be easy. But you’ve made it through worse.

After the recording wraps, the studio settles into a quieter hum. Arthur and Isaac stand from the sofa, their usual post-show energy fading into something less energetic. You busy yourself with jotting down notes from the session, cataloging timestamps for edits, and mentally prioritising what needs to be done before uploading the final cut.

Arthur is already rolling up a spare XLR cable when he looks over at you. “I think that went well,” he says. “Thanks for keeping us on track.”

“No problem,” you say, glancing up from the soundboard.

He nods and places the coiled cable neatly on the desk. “I’ve got an edit I have to send off tonight,” he says to Isaac, his voice softer now, almost apologetic. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Sure thing,” He replies, giving him a thumbs-up as Arthur grabs his coat from the back of a chair.

Arthur’s gaze flickers to you one last time. “See you next time,” he says, his words careful.

“You too,” you reply, watching as he disappears through the door.

The room feels lighter without him, though not necessarily in a bad way. Arthur carries a weight that seems to press on the space around him, a quiet intensity that isn’t unpleasant, just… noticeable.

Isaac turns to you as you shut down the software and begin powering down the equipment. He leans casually against the desk, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, his tone quieter than it had been all morning. “I just wanted to say, uh, don’t take Arthur too seriously.”

You pause, glancing at him. “What do you mean?”

Isaac shifts his weight, his eyebrows slightly furrowed with a genuine look of concern. “I mean, he’s not trying to be rude or anything. He just… he’s kind of like that. Especially with new people. He’s not big on change, you know?”

You nod, turning back to unplug one of the microphones. “I got that impression.”

“It’s not personal,” Isaac says quickly. “I promise. He really liked Lara, and he’s probably just… figuring out how to adjust to not having her here.”

You hesitate, then smile faintly. “That makes sense. I wasn’t expecting him to roll out a red carpet or anything.”

Isaac laughs softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Yeah, but I know how he can come off sometimes. He’s actually a good guy, I swear. It just takes him a minute to warm up to people.”

“Well,” you say, straightening up and meeting Isaac’s eyes, “I’m not in any rush. I’m just here to do my job and make the podcast sound good. If he comes around, great. If not, I’ll survive.”

Isaac grins. “That’s it man. Honestly, I think he’ll get there. He’s just— what’s the word? Particular. And maybe a little protective of the pod.”

“Protective, huh?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Isaac scratches the back of his head, looking sheepish. “This whole podcast thing was kind of his baby at first. I just showed up for the jokes. But Arthur? He’s all about the details. He’s, like, scary good at making things better, except when it comes to people.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Good to know.”

Isaac smiles, then gives the desk a light tap. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, seriously. It’s nice to have someone new around. Keeps things interesting.”

“Thanks,” you say, your voice softening. “That means a lot.”

“No problem.” Isaac pushes off the desk and stretches. “Anyway, I’ll let you finish up. First day down, how’re you feeling?”

You look around the now-empty studio, cables half-coiled, the faint smell of their breakfast still lingering in the air. “Good,” you say finally. “I think it’ll be a good fit.”

“Good answer,” Isaac says with a grin. “See you next time.”

“See you,” you say, watching as he slips out the door.

The quiet returns as you finish shutting everything down, your mind replaying the day. Arthur might have been a bit off, even a little distant, but Isaac’s reassurance reminds you it’s all okay.

This isn’t going to be easy. But, somehow, you feel a little more confident that it will work out.

The chill of the November air nips at your cheeks as you walk home, hands shoved deep into your coat pockets. The sun is already dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in muted shades of orange and gray. Your breath comes in small, visible puffs as you navigate the uneven pavement, your thoughts circling like restless birds.

Arthur doesn’t hate you. You’re almost sure of that. He’s been polite enough, friendly, even, in that formal way people are when they’re trying not to be unkind. But there’s something in the way he watches you, the quiet whispers to Isaac, the slight hesitations.

He’s not sold on you.

And that’s not a crime, of course. People don’t have to like you. You know that. You know that. But the thought still worms its way under your skin.

What if he doesn’t think you’re good enough? What if he thinks you’re messing up an important rhythm they’ve spent months building? You’ve stepped into something that’s already been established, something Arthur clearly cares about deeply, and now you’re supposed to make it better, or at least keep it from falling apart.

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, kicking at a stray pebble on the pavement. You did your best today, and Isaac was kind, even reassuring. Still, the weight of Arthur’s cold interaction presses on you, and you can’t shake the gnawing feeling that you’re already letting someone down.

It’s not a long walk to your flat, but the cold makes it feel endless. By the time you reach the old brick building, your fingers are numb and your shoulders tense. You fumble with the keys, finally managing to push the door open and climb the creaky stairs to the second floor.

The familiar smell of tomato soup and bread greets you as you step inside. Your flatmate, Emma, is perched on the arm of the sofa, scrolling on her phone with a steaming mug in hand. She glances up as you enter, her light curls bouncing.

“You’re home,” she says lightly. “How was day one?”

You kick off your boots and shrug out of your coat, the warmth of the apartment already seeping into your frozen limbs. “It was… good,” you say, though the words come out slower than you intend.

Emma raises an eyebrow. “Good doesn’t sound convincing.”

You sigh, dropping your bag onto the floor and collapsing onto the sofa next to her. “I mean, I like the job. The studio’s fine, the setup’s fine, Isaac is nice. But…”

“But,” she prompts, her eyes narrowing.

“But I think Arthur doesn’t like me,” you admit, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Arthur?”

“Co-host. The one people say is like lowkey autistic.” You rest your chin on your knees. “He wasn’t mean or anything. He was polite. But he wasn’t exactly warm, either. And I feel like… I don’t know, like I’m already not meeting whatever expectations he has.”

Emma tilts her head, looking at you. “So, you’re worried you’re not living up to the standards of a guy you just met, who might not even have an issue with you in the first place?”

You groan. “When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” she says, setting her mug down. “You just care too much what people think. You’re, like, constitutionally incapable of being okay with someone not liking you.”

You shoot her a look. “That’s not true.”

“Name one person who doesn’t like you,” she challenges.

You open your mouth, then close it.

“Exactly.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I just don’t want to mess this up. It’s a good gig, and I don’t want to make things weird between them, or worse, feel like I’m ruining something Arthur obviously cares about.”

Emma leans back, crossing her legs. “Okay, real talk? You’re overthinking. It’s your first day. If you went in there, did your job, and didn’t, I don’t know, accidentally set the studio on fire, then you’re doing fine. Arthur will come around. Or he won’t. Either way, you’re not responsible for his feelings.”

“I know,” you mumble, though the knot in your stomach doesn’t quite loosen.

“You’re good at what you do,” she says, her voice firm. “And if they hired you, they obviously thought you’d be a good fit. Just give it some time.”

You look at her, her confidence in you unwavering, and manage a small smile. “Thanks, Emma.”

“Anytime,” she says, picking up her mug again. “Now, you want soup? You look like you just walked through a blizzard.”

“It felt like it,” you admit.

She grins. “Then sit tight. I’ll grab you a bowl.”

As Emma disappears into the kitchen, you let your head fall back against the sofa and close your eyes. She’s right, you’re overthinking. Probably.

Still, the memory of Arthur’s quiet glances lingers, and you can’t shake the feeling that winning him over might take more effort than you’d anticipated.

The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the radiator. You lie on your side, staring at your phone on the nightstand, its screen glowing faintly in the darkness. Sleep isn’t happening, not with your brain circling the same thought over and over: Did I mess up today?

Arthur’s neutral expression haunts you. Polite, sure, but distant. Detached. The whispering to Isaac. What were they saying? Are you just reading too much into it?

Frustrated, you grab your phone. Your thumb hovers over the screen. You haven’t texted Isaac before. Your correspondence has been strictly email so far, but he included his number ‘in case of emergencies.’ This isn’t an emergency, not technically, but maybe a quick message would help put your mind at ease.

You hesitate. What if you sound unprofessional? What if you’re overstepping? You chew your lip, then shake your head. Better to clarify now than let it eat away at you.

Taking a deep breath, you open the messaging app and type:

You: Hi, Isaac, it’s your new producer for the podcast. I just wanted to make sure this is the right number?

You hit send before you can overthink it. The message sends, and you stare at the screen, your heart beating a little faster than usual.

The reply comes quickly, too quickly for someone who should probably be asleep:

Isaac: Hey! Yep, this is me. What’s up?

You exhale a small breath of relief. One hurdle down. Now for the awkward part.

You: Thanks for confirming. I hope this isn’t weird to text, but I wanted to ask if there’s anything I can do to help make things feel less awkward with Arthur?

You stare at the screen after pressing send, your stomach twisting. Should you have phrased that differently? Should you have even asked? But before you can spiral too far, Isaac replies.

Isaac: Oh man, you’ve been thinking about that, huh?

You: Yeah a little, I guess. I just feel like there’s some tension, and I don’t want to mess up the dynamic you guys already have.

There’s a brief pause before Isaac’s next message comes through.

Isaac: Okay, first off, you’re not messing anything up. I promise. Arthur’s just Arthur.

You: That’s what you said earlier.

Isaac: Because it’s true. He’s like that with literally everyone at first. Even me.

You blink at your phone.

You: Really?

Isaac: Yeah. When we first started the podcast, it took him, like, three months to stop calling me Isaac during recordings. Said Bach ‘felt too informal’.

You laugh softly, the mental image of Arthur trying to keep things strictly professional easing some of your tension.

You: That’s actually hilarious.

Isaac: Right? It took forever, but he loosened up eventually. He always does.

You hesitate before typing your next question.

You: So, do you think there’s anything I can do to make it easier? Or should I just wait it out?

Isaac’s reply takes a little longer this time, but when it comes through, it’s warm and reassuring.

Isaac: Honestly, just keep being you. Do the job, don’t take his quietness personally, and give him time to adjust. If you try too hard, he’ll probably notice, and that’ll just make things weirder.

You: That’s fair.

Isaac: And hey, if he ever does cross a line, which I doubt, just let me know. I’ll handle it.

You smile at that, grateful for Isaac’s kindness and his willingness to smooth things over.

You: Thanks, Isaac. I really appreciate it.

Isaac: No problem. And don’t stress too much, okay? You’re already doing great. I can tell.

The reassurance settles something in your chest, and for the first time that night, you feel like maybe everything will be okay.

You: I’ll try. Thanks again. Goodnight!

Isaac: Night!

You set your phone down and roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. The knot in your stomach is still there, but smaller now, less overwhelming. Isaac is right, you just need to focus on doing your job and let the rest work itself out.

With a sigh, you pull the blanket tighter around you and close your eyes, determined to get at least a little sleep before tomorrow.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter Two

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

a/n: i hope you guys like the idea of a slow burn !! i’m really excited to continue this story !! they will come out in between my other fics !! LOVE U GUYS <33 and let me know if you want to be tagged in updates !!

[httpknjoon]

what do the lonely do at christmas | myg

plot | that time when popstar!yn found herself on bassist!yoongi's bed on a cold December morning.

w.c | 2.8K

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers

note | one out of two/three holiday-themed drabble for this series! it's late, I know. but I can't let them sit in my drafts again haha so here it is. enjoy!

main masterlist | series masterlist | want to request?

DAY 66 of Love Is... On Tour

They make songs. Together.

After a show at Wells Fargo Center, Yoongi stayed locked in his hotel room to work on the music for your EP. He has read the lyrics you sent to him and listened to some melody ideas you recorded in your voice notes. In the last two days you two have been collaborating, you are full of visions and excited to tell him all of them. He finds it more surprising that you two haven't had any fights since then.

Is it New Years yet? I'm getting bored, so can we skip ahead? I just wanna forget That I'm at home with nobody to hold

So far, you already recorded two out of the six songs you planned to release in the EP. Usually, Yoongi takes his time in making and editing songs. But considering that this is a holiday EP and you have less than a week before the management's deadline, he works on it at every chance he gets. It's not that hard when you already have a clear vision of what and how you want the extended play to be.

Working is a great distraction compared to scrolling on his phone, which did no good for him. Mainly because he recently saw a post from a mutual friend of his and his ex. That's when he learned that Sara threw a baby shower in what was supposedly their house. He felt something cracked in him when he saw how far along her pregnancy was.

Tempted, Yoongi scrolled through the carousel of photos, admiring the decorations and colors of the house Sara probably picked herself, things that Yoongi had never seen personally. A single photo made Yoongi pause.

It shows Sara and her then-ex-boyfriend holding her growing bump, also showcasing a ring on her finger— not the emerald-cut diamond one he proposed to her. A new one, signaling that she is engaged for a second time this year. That photo was enough for Yoongi to turn it off and focus on his music.

Ding-dong.

Yoongi's head snapped, irritated when the unexpected doorbell noise filled his room. Frowning, he gets up from his chair to check who the person might be.

It's you.

Looking like a curious puppy, you stood before Yoongi's door with two cups of warm drinks you asked Cal to buy on the way back to the hotel. Yoongi looked at you through the small peephole, taking notice of your large, thick white cable knit sweater that falls just a few inches above your knees and the mystery cups you're holding. He opened the door when you began rolling your eyes and tapping your foot.

"What took you so long?!" you instantly asked the moment you saw him, handing him the other cup.

He snickered, ignoring your attitude. He takes the cup before pushing the door wider to let you in. Yoongi followed behind you when you walked inside. He sits back on his chair, in front of his small set-up, while you sit at the edge of his bed. Usually, you will take the couch. But the bed is nearer his working setup.

This is how you two have worked since you started. You only get up when you want to see his screen or when recording something.

"What are you doing here?" he asked since you just finished your show earlier. He figured you might prefer to rest and just work early tomorrow.

"I have an EP to work on, duh!" you replied, taking a sip from your hot chocolate as you tapped on your phone. "Anyway, lemme show you something..."

Probably a new idea. Yoongi thought. He knew it from the moment he saw you opened your phone's notes app.

"Here." You handed him your phone, letting him read something you wrote earlier today.

Maybe he met you somewhere in the desert While he was soul searching, he found someone better Guess you make him happy like I couldn't do Cindy Lou Who

Yoongi reads down the words, "It's a sad song?"

"Yep," you nodded. "Have you heard the song, What Do The Lonely Do At Christmas?"

Yoongi was quick to shake his head. He is not really fond of Christmas songs and doesn't listen to them if not needed. But he could tell by the title that it's probably a sad song too.

You pulled up your legs on his bed, making yourself comfortable, "It's a great song from the 70s. It has a lot of covers too. It's a sad Christmas song and I am so into it that I thought of writing one too."

Yoongi nods, listening, as he scans the rest of your lyrics, "Hmm..."

"What?" you quickly responded to his humming.

With how his eyes squint and his lips form a thin line, you know that he has something to say about your work. You learned after your first night of working together, making you realize that he has the same habit when you rehearse for a show.

"It's great, but I feel like we should just change some irrelevant lines? Like, maybe he met you somewhere in the desert." he read one of the lines. "What does desert get to do with Christmas?"

When he was met with a long silence, Yoongi looked up to you. But he find you just looking at him, chewing on your bottom lip. You looked away before letting out a heavy sigh.

"I found out my ex was cheating on me when paparazzi caught pictures of him and that actress kissing in Coachella." you explained.

"Oh..."

An apologetic look was instantly written all over his face, which is something you haven't expected. You thought he would keep the blank expression he always has. But his eyes and slightly gaped mouth said otherwise. You hate pity or anything like that, especially when it comes from someone who once read you too well. So, you grinned, even though it was forced so much that it almost made your cheeks hurt.

"Want to see the pictures? It's literally everywhere." you joked to change the mood. His eyes widened like he thought you were serious. So you chuckled, "I'm kidding! I won't show you that myself. You can just search it up if you want to."

"I'm not interested. No one really enjoys seeing a picture of their ex," he mumbled, returning your phone to you.

Your eyebrows crooked together when you heard that. He sounded too serious like he was the one in your shoes. You watch him sulk back to his seat, turning his back to work on one of your songs.

"You're acting like you were the one who got cheated on here. You're literally engaged to someone." you quipped.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

He whispered mindlessly. Yoongi didn't really think about it and let it slip out of his tongue. He doesn't really like bringing up his personal dramas in his workplace. He never would have realized what he said if you didn't ask him,

"What do you mean by that?"

Yoongi turned around, meeting your eyes, "So, how do you like that song to turn out?"

You're not dumb. Of course, you noticed him dodging your curiosities. He has never shared anything about himself since you two worked together. It's not like I care, you thought. But you know that there is a small itch at the back of your head, trying to get him to talk more. And maybe you know a trick to satisfy that itch.

"Let's order some wine first."

"With your hair so long, lips so bed— wait, that's wrong!"

A bottle of red wine is carelessly placed on the perfectly white duvet of Yoongi's bed. Surprisingly, it is still safe from any stain. The nearly finished cup of now-cold chocolate drink you brought is on the nightstand. You were giggling in front of the microphone and pop filter after making another mistake.

"The words are scrambled." you continued giggling before drinking from the glass of wine you were holding.

It has been almost two hours since you got in his room and Yoongi knows that the effect of your wine is getting into you. Earlier, before you could finish your first glass, you two already agreed on the instrumentals of the song you called cindy lou who. You let Yoongi make some changes in your lyrics, but it's nothing major.

"Something that feels delicate and maybe some piano." You described your idea before humming the tune you were thinking of.

By the second glass of wine, you are recording a rough draft of the song. So that you know if your ideas work well. Yoongi suggested to layer your vocals in some parts while you thought of adding a subtle harmony. Surprisingly, you two worked smoothly.

"Should we add some harp? Theo would have liked that."

You were almost done with your third glass of wine when Yoongi heard you mention your ex's name for the first time.

"Maybe we should stop drinking..." he said.

Even though he's in his fourth glass as well, Yoongi is doing better than you. You looked at him while he clicked something on his setup. You wondered if he could feel the cozy, warm feeling you've been feeling from the wine. Because that plain expression cannot really tell you anything, which makes you feel a little frustrated with how you're the only one who seemed to be a little giggly.

"Fine." you rolled your eyes, letting him take your glass from you.

He got up to get something in his room's mini fridge before going back to you, "Water?"

"It's cold," you replied before you could even touch the bottle.

"Okay, diva."

Your eyebrows raised with that, "No! I mean I cannot drink cold water when I'm singing or recording. It's not good for my throat... I'm fine, anyway. Thanks."

"I thought it would help you sober up," he explained, leaning to his chair.

"I'm sober!" you exclaimed defensively. Just a little fuzzy. But you won't admit that to him.

His lips formed into a smug smile, like he was saying, yeah sure. You puffed before fixing your headphones and crossing your arms over your chest. You looked annoyed. Yoongi knows because your nostrils are flared while there's a small pout on your lips. He bites off his inner cheek to stop himself from smiling.

"Should we record again?" he asked.

Still a little annoyed, you didn't say anything and just nodded your head. The instrumental began playing in your headphones seconds later.

‘Tis the season to be jolly But how can I be when I have nobody

The same song plays on your phone while you tap your fingertips in tune with the sleighbells playing in its instrumental. After finishing recording the song, you stay to see how it will turn out. Yoongi didn't seem to mind even though it was already past midnight.

"Do you want to hear the song I mentioned?" you asked him while he worked on the song.

Busy, he answered with a short sure. So, you played the song in a non-distracting volume, reached for the glass of wine you abandoned, and sat on his bed. You were quiet, sometimes humming to the song, but mostly staring at the view outside.

A silent night I know it's gonna be Joy to the world But it's gonna be sad for me

As the snow falls outside, you think of how this is so not how you expected your December is gonna be this year. With Noah being your original bassist, you thought you two would get to enjoy the snow in various cities you're touring in. And maybe even spend Christmas together during your break. But instead, you are now in your new bassist's, with whom you have dumb fights most of the time, hotel room, making holiday songs.

How surprising is that? You thought to yourself before taking one gulf of your wine.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Yoongi slightly groaned as he stretched his limbs from his chair. You paused the song and collected the wine bottle and your glass like you were ready to go.

"Are you kicking me out yet?" you asked.

He turned around, just to you about to get up from the bed, "What?"

"Maybe my presence distracts you." you joked, which sounds nicer than maybe you don't want me here in your room anymore because you don't like having me here.

He chuckled, a little tired, "No, it's okay. I know you're waiting for the finished version."

"Good. Because I really like your room. You have a great view of the city. The snow looks perfect here." you rambled.

Yoongi looked outside, seeing the wonderful view you were talking about. He wordlessly agrees before getting back to his screen. Watching him, you mumbled.

"If you're tired, we can just finish that tomorrow."

Just like you, the guy also performed hours ago. You two don't along at most times, but you are not that petty to make him overwork.

"No, I'm fine," he shakes his head. "I'll finish this in an hour, just wait there."

"Okay," you put down the bottle on the nightstand.

Yoongi heard the music play again while he edited the song. Eager to finish it tonight, he continued working for what seemed like a few minutes for him. He made sure to add your suggestions and put some elements he thinks would be perfect. After listening to his finished product through his headphones one more time, Yoongi put on a satisfied smile.

"And it's do—"

Yoongi's smile fell when he found you asleep on his bed with the empty wine glass in your hand. It was already 1:24 AM, and he looked at the time. Seeing how peaceful you are in your sleep, he would hate waking you up. Instead, Yoongi got up cleaned up his nightstand, and carefully took your glass. He tried not to chuckle loudly when he heard your small snores. After gently putting the duvet on you, Yoongi took one of the pillows and threw it on the couch that he would take over tonight. He knows it would be awkward to take up the big, empty space next to you.

Dimming down the lights, Yoongi tried to find a comfortable position on the couch. And when he did, he finally closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.

If it weren't for the buzzing noise next to you, you would have seen where your celebrity crush ended up taking you for a date in your dreams. Groaning, you reached for your phone beside you. Seeing Cal calling, you begrudgingly answered the call.

"Hey, Cal." your voice sounded weak as you just woke up.

"Where the hell are you, YN?! I've been ringing your room. You have a virtual interview at 9."

Your eyebrows furrowed while slowly sitting up, "What do you mean? I'm in my room— Oh, no. Fuck."

The first thing you see when you sit up is Yoongi's compact studio setup, which you don't remember being in your room. You looked around and it just confirmed that you are not in your hotel room. Yoongi is nowhere to be found, you don't hear any noise from the bathroom either.

"Y/N?" Cal spoke again, worried by your sudden pause.

"I-I'm in Yoongi's room." you stuttered, trying to remember your last memory. You were relieved to find yourself still in the same clothes you went with last night.

You heard a gasp from the other line, "Oh my god, YN! Did you hooked—"

"No, no, no! Still in my clothes. Just fell asleep making songs." you babbled, cutting her suspicions off. "Where the fuck is that sock?!"

Is it a talent to lose a fucking sock while asleep? Because if it is, you just added a new title under your name. You were in a hurry, shuffling the bed for that one sock with heart patterns. Cal can only imagine what you look like right now.

"Here!" you exclaimed, immediately putting it on. You rushed to the door after. "I'm going there right— Yoongi!"

Yoongi was right before you. He shared the same shock as you except he was calmer with his eyebrows raised and eyes widened.

"I have to go for an interview. Cal's gonna rip my head off. I'll check the song later. Thank you for letting me stay!"

You were so in a hurry that you were literally spewing words and didn't realize that you leaned to give a quick kiss on his cheek. It registered as you were moving back, making you two stop for a moment, looking at each other in surprise. He gulped, feeling his throat running dry. while you feel every blood run to your cheeks now, feeling warm.

You blinked, "I-I'm gonna go."

Yoongi watched you run to the elevator before looking at the two cups of coffee he was holding.

note | i still have a christmas drabble! haha! hope u liked this one though <33

taglist rules

SERIES TAGLIST (OPEN)

@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95 @treacherqus @jajabro @marnz1990 @ktownshizzle @notarshia @m00njinnie @thelilbutifulthings @tarahardcore @livisdoingfine @jungshaking @eridanus-lynx @enthralled-bandit

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Secondhand Secrets

Pairing: Jeff Sadecki x Neighbor!Reader

Inspired by: @awarrenswhore 's fic Not an Affair and Jeff's fantasy of a customer coming onto him while buying furniture ahahaha

The bell over the door jingled as you stepped into Sadecki’s Furniture. The place smelled like wood polish and vanilla candles. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and glanced around, heart racing—not from excitement, but from the mix of freedom and fear that came with moving into your first home alone.

“Hi there,” a voice said warmly. “Can I help you find anything?”

You turned and found yourself face-to-face with a man in his late forties—tall, solidly built, wearing a fitted black polo and jeans. His hair was perfectly graying at the temples, and his smile made you forget whatever you were about to say.

“Uh, yeah,” you managed. “I just moved into my house a few blocks from here, and I need… everything, pretty much.”

He chuckled, offering a hand. “I’m Jeff. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

You shook his hand. “Thanks. I’m Y/N.”

“Let’s get you set up,” he said, and for the next hour, Jeff walked you through living room sets, mattresses, coffee tables, and a kitchen island you didn’t need but suddenly couldn’t live without. He was patient, funny, and attentive, asking how you wanted the space to feel, not just what you wanted to buy.

As you both stood beside a cream-colored sectional, you bit your lip. “I’m going to be honest… I have no idea how to assemble half of this when it shows up.”

Jeff smiled again, a little slower this time. “Well, my offer extends past the showroom floor. If you need help with setup or anything, just call the store. Or me, directly.” He scribbled his number on a business card and handed it over.

“Thanks,” you said softly, tucking it into your pocket.

A few days later, there was a knock at the door.

You opened it to find Jeff holding a toolbox and a six-pack of beer.

“Figured I’d stop by and make sure you didn’t impale yourself on an Allen wrench,” he said.

You laughed. “You’re not wrong. Come in.”

You worked side by side that afternoon—him assembling your TV stand while you read the instructions upside down and offered moral support. At some point, the conversation turned personal. You told him why you moved—needed a change, got out of a relationship, wanted to start fresh. He nodded but didn’t offer much about himself.

When the TV stand was finally up, you handed him a beer.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said.

“I know,” he replied, sitting next to you on the couch. “But I wanted to.”

There was a pause. Heavy with something unsaid.

You looked at him. “You always this nice to new customers?”

Jeff’s eyes lingered on your face a little too long. “Not really.”

It wasn’t clear who moved first, but within seconds, your lips were on his and his hands were tangled in your hair. That night, you slept together for the first time on your brand-new mattress—no sheets, just the raw heat of something you couldn’t quite name.

Weeks passed like a blur.

Jeff would show up after closing the store, smelling like sawdust and cologne. Sometimes he’d cook. Other times, you’d end up tangled on the couch watching old movies you barely remembered the next morning. You didn’t ask too many questions, and he didn’t offer too many answers. He kissed you like he’d missed you for years. You told yourself it was just casual, but somewhere along the way, your heart started to ache when he wasn’t around.

One Saturday, you were at the supermarket picking up groceries when you heard someone say your name.

You turned and saw her.

“I’m Jackie,” the woman said, her tone sharp and too calm. “Jeff’s wife.”

The words knocked the air out of your lungs. “I’m sorry… what?”

Jackie tilted her head. “You didn’t know?”

You couldn’t speak.

She stepped closer. “I don’t know what he told you, but I thought you deserved to hear it from someone who wasn’t lying.”

Then she walked away, leaving you in the frozen food aisle feeling like your skin had been ripped off.

Jeff didn’t come over that night. Or the next. Or the one after that.

When he finally did, you didn’t say anything as you opened the door and walked back into your kitchen, arms crossed.

“I should’ve told you,” he said.

“No kidding,” you snapped.

Jeff ran a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

“Don’t,” you said, voice trembling. “Don’t say that. That’s what everyone says when they don’t want to admit they’re shitty people.”

“She and I—Jackie—we haven’t been okay in years. We sleep in separate rooms. We barely speak. I should’ve ended it before I got involved with you. But I didn’t. I didn’t expect you to… matter.”

That stopped you.

“You think that makes it better?” you asked quietly. “That you didn’t expect to care about me?”

Jeff stepped forward. “I care about you more than I’ve cared about anything in a long time.”

You swallowed hard, tears threatening. “Then why did you lie?”

“Because I was scared if I told you, you’d push me away. And maybe I deserved that.”

You shook your head. “You don’t get to be the one who’s scared. I moved here to start over. I thought this thing between us—whatever it was—it meant something.”

“It did. It does.”

He reached out and took your hand. “But if you tell me to go, I’ll go.”

Silence.

You looked at him, everything inside you twisting. You should hate him. You should scream. But part of you didn’t want to let go. Part of you still hoped.

“I don’t know what I want,” you admitted, voice breaking.

“I’ll wait,” he said. “I’ll wait until you do.”

You didn’t sleep with him that night. But you didn’t tell him to leave, either. And as he sat beside you on the couch in the quiet dark, both of you saying nothing, you realized the hardest part wasn’t what he did.

It was that you still wanted him anyway.

[writingduhh]

Hii, i was wondering if you were able to write something for hansumfella (tyler) ? I was thinking he talks about him having a girlfriend but no body believes him until he finally brings her into a stream and everyone is amazed because they thought he was joking !! but anything works haven’t rlly seen hansumfella content !! 😅😅

YES!!!!!! Hope this is alright! It’s my first hansumfella fic so I’m super new at this….

Hansumfella || Stream Surprise

You and Tyler had been openly dating for several months, thoroughly enjoying the simplicity and joy your relationship brought into your lives. However, as Tyler's online alter ego, HansumFella, began to skyrocket in popularity, it became clear that managing your private and public lives would need some recalibration. Out of mutual concern for privacy and the unpredictable nature of internet fame, you both agreed it would be best to keep your relationship out of the public eye for the time being.

During one of his lively Roblox streams—a session filled with laughter and playful banter—Tyler unexpectedly let a secret slip, a revelation that even surprised him.

“And yeah, for those wondering why I’ve been a bit off-schedule lately, I’ve been spending some time with my amazing girlfriend,” he mentioned casually, taking a sip of water as the chat erupted into a frenzy.

“You what now, Tyler?!” one viewer exclaimed, their message quickly engulfed by a wave of shocked and curious reactions.

“HE HAS A GF?!”

“NOOOO 😭”

“GIRLFRIEND REVEAL”

“I knew it Ong”

“Proof or it didn’t happen.”

Despite the disbelief, Tyler merely chuckled and steered the conversation back to his gaming strategy, his relaxed demeanor doing little to stop the onslaught of comments.

“Alright chat, calm down I didn’t even say anything! You’re just imagining it! You’re gaslighting yourself. Let’s focus back to absolutely destroying children in best dressed” He jests in his usual dry sense of humor.

In the weeks that followed, each stream dedicated a few minutes to viewers probing for more details about you. Tyler kept his answers vague, strategically revealing just enough to maintain interest without confirming anything definitive.

“What does she look like?”

“Favorite thing about her?”

“I still think he’s lying.”

“Well she looks absolutely gorgeous. Absolute smoke show.” He playfully remarks before continuing.

“Favorite thing about her? Oo that’s a hard one, there’s so much to love. I’ll say sense of humor.”

The curiosity and incessant questioning from his fanbase eventually led Tyler to plan a significant reveal. On a crisp summer evening, his usual streaming time, Tyler adjusted his webcam to capture more than just his usual gaming setup.

“Alright, everyone,” Tyler announced as he started his stream, “tonight is a special night. You've all been incredibly patient—or incredibly nosy,” he joked with a wink at the camera. “I think it's time you meet someone very special to me.”

He reached out and extended a hand off-camera. After a brief moment, another hand appeared, and you stepped into view, your smile bright yet slightly shy as you waved to the camera.

“Hello stream! Is that what I call them?” You ask, a little overwhelmed with the situation

“You can call them whatever you like, babe.” He chuckles, pulling you to sit down beside him.

The chat paused for a split second before erupting.

“OMHH SHES REAL?!”

“She’s so beautiful!!”

“HE WASN’T LYING 💀”

“Literally how did he land her?”

“She’s ours now”

Tyler’s grin widened as he read the comments aloud, his arm comfortably encircling you as you sat comfortably on his lap.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s the reason I’ve been so distracted, so you can blame her for the lack of content.” He jests, earning a playful eye roll from you.

The stream proceeded exceptionally well. You were a natural, laughing and engaging with the chat as if you’d had been a part of the community for years. Tyler felt a mix of pride and relief; not only did his audience adore you, but him as well.

A few weeks after your debut on his stream, Tyler decided it was time to make your relationship Instagram official. He chose a candid photo of you two together, taken during a sunset hike. Both laughing, bathed in the golden hour light, capturing a beautiful moment.

Tyler uploaded the photo with the caption that simply read, “Mine ;)” and tagged you.

The post received thousands of likes and comments in no time. Fans and friends filled the comments section with hearts, congratulatory messages, and more than a few playful jabs at having doubted him in the first place.

Tyler leaned back, watching the notifications pop up one after another, you sitting beside him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Was it worth the wait?” Tyler asked, his voice a soft murmur.

“Definitely worth it,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

[poisoned-fruit-prose]

𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞 • 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢: 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭-𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬

synop: you have landed a spot in the university of piltover's prestigious graduate program. you meet two men who will change your paradigm on love forever. a figure, unfamiliar to you now, waits patiently for this to happen.

wc: 3.7k.

includes: modern au. lots of setup for the upcoming chapters. jayce is a big puppy and viktor is a perpetually annoyed cat. no magic—yet.

author's note: happy new year everyone! my gift to you all is a series i've been festering with for the past few weeks. i'd like to get a new chapter out every other week, maybe sooner if my schedule allows. i hope you all enjoy.

masterlist • chapter ii (coming soon) ⇀

Life had taken a delightful turn for the better.

The past few years had been endlessly exhausting. You had your sights set on grad school—an English PhD, no less. You had toiled with the idea long enough before finally deciding to pull the trigger and the splatter of work that came with the shot was nothing to shake a stick at. There were exams to be taken, papers to be written, letters of recommendation to be awkwardly asked. And you had to pay for it somehow on top of it all—shifts at the little mom and pop diner by your apartment were punctuated with exam study books and a crumpled bit of paper with your expenses tallied tip by tip.

You managed to get into one of the top schools in the country: the University of Piltover. You would say you didn’t know how, but you did. You worked hard and it paid off. You landed a teaching fellowship, securing a huge majority of your tuition, and a roommate in one of the campus apartments offered to you. You were dreaming of orange autumns wrapped in a scarf on cobblestone campus walkways, faded sunlight filtering through stained glass library windows, creaky wooden chairs circling ancient lyceums.

It was all laid out before you now. Things were going to be perfect from here on out.

You arrived at your new living space in mid-August, a few weeks before classes started, your rickety car absolutely packed with your precious belongings. Your breaks creaked as you pulled into the driveway outside the little townhouse. The siding was painted a handsome cream to pair with the brick foundation and the ivy that climbed up the sides and front and choked the huge bay windows. A maple tree, verdant in the summer light, sat old and happy and fat in the front yard.

You could hardly kill your engine fast enough. You virtually skipped up to the front door, unlocked it, took a deep breath of your new home base as you stepped in. It was hard to not contain the joyous ichor that dripped from the fruits of your labor. You laughed, did a little dance, oblivious to the far nicer car that was tucking itself beside yours or the very tall, very handsome man that was scaling up the porch steps and through the door—

“Oh, hello,” a timbre voice said bemusedly as it stumbled upon your victory dance in the foyer. You froze, blood rushing up your neck to settle in a nice, tomato red glow on your cheeks and ears as you tried not to gape at this Greek god of man in horror.

“...Oh god. Hi.”

“No, please don’t be embarrassed, I’m the one that stepped in on your celebration,” he said warmly as he stepped forward and offered a huge hand to shake. “Plus, I just really don’t want start off on the wrong foot. I’m Jayce.”

Ah. So this was he. You had been emailing him sporadically, of course, but it was really the university that matched you up. You knew he was an architecture major and... not much else. Neither of you even had profile pictures attached to your school emails, so you had no clue that your roommate was going to be a tall, dark, handsome Superman.

You extended your own hand and shook it as firmly as you could, what with your knees suddenly feeling like a poor attempt at gelatin and the afternoon light haloing his perfect hair a little too brightly.

“I thought you’d be coming a little closer to the start of classes,” you said with a bashful laugh.

“That was the plan, but I have some furniture being shipped that’s coming over the next few days. Plus, y’know, I wanted to… make a good impression, I guess.”

“...On me?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, yeah! We’re gonna be rooming together for at least the rest of the year, if not through our degrees.” He smiled warmly. “I’d like if we at least tolerated each other.”

“...And you figured you’d do that by... getting here early?” you teased.

Jayce’s jaw went slack as he struggled with words for a moment. “Well I—Well, I was gonna buy my textbooks and have them all stacked up on the counter so you’d see what I was taking and how sm—y’know what, never mind.”

You were already laughing and he was already laughing, and the horror of dancing like nobody was watching when, indeed, someone was watching was already fading.

“Consider a good impression made, Jayce. No need to do all that.”

You could virtually see an invisible tail start wagging, a pair of floppy ears perking up at your words. You almost wanted to reach out and pet the faultless mop of hair on his head.

“Well, I still want to live up to that good impression! You just got here, right? I mean, I can still see the boxes strapped to the top of your car. Let me help you unpack!” he immediately offered.

“No, you just got here too, that’s really not necessary—” But he was already bounding out the door before you could say no. Not that you were going to run after him and adamantly refuse—some of those boxes were more than difficult just to lift into your car. But you found yourself at his heels anyway, insisting that he take his own stuff in first.

“No, really, it’s okay! It’s just my clothes and some of my weights. Holy shit, you packed a lotta stuff in this tiny thing!”

“That’s what she said,” you immediately shot back. Jayce just lit up.

“That is what she said! And here I was, all worried we wouldn’t get along!”

You popped open the trunk and you began your work. Jayce, naturally, made it look like child’s play with the way he stacked boxes to carry two, three at a time without breaking a sweat. You were content with carrying just the one. Until that one particularly difficult box—filled to the brim with books that wouldn’t fit anywhere else—stared up at you, innocently, from the back of your car.

You didn’t want to look like a wuss, or to even ask your roommate for more help than he had already so graciously offered. So you took a deep breath, got a good grip on the sides, lifted, and immediately began to fall backwards.

“Woah, careful there!”

Your back met the soft cushion of Jayce’s chest. Two huge arms came out to catch you as well, wrapping around your shoulders as he bore your weight and helped you regain your balance. Up this close, you caught a whiff of bergamot and spices—a delicious-smelling cologne he had draped himself in. Of fucking course he wears really nice cologne.

“Here, let me.”

His hand slid to rest on your back to ensure you’d stay upright as he rounded you, only leaving your body to bear the brunt of the box. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and you could feel another rush of blood flushing your face.

“God, thanks. I dunno what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

“Eat asphalt?” he replied cheekily, to which you threw him a playful glare and pushed him onwards to the house.

“Shut up! You’re taking that to your grave!”

“Am I taking the dancing too?”

“Shut up!”

You followed Jayce, sheepish and endeared, as he laughed warmly at your apparent embarrassment.

“Aw c’mon, you’ll be laughing with me about all this by the time we move out!”

You’ve barely known the guy for five minutes, but the thought of going through all of grad school living with him and suddenly moving away made your heart twist sadly. He seemed like a good guy, someone you were actually excited to get to know, someone you’d be happy to spend these upcoming years with. Preemptive grief was a bitch.

“Whatever,” you managed to grumble out, lightheartedly enough for him to not catch onto your overly-sentimental train of thought.

With all your boxes at least inside the house, the two of you looked over the pile that sat patiently at the bottom of the stairs. Your bedroom, of course, was up the flight.

You looked at him wearily. He looked back and smiled.

“Lunch?” he asked.

“Lunch,” you agreed.

Jayce turned out to be a wonderful companion to spend the weeks leading up to classes with. You learned he came from a known engineering family but was here on the word of one of the school board’s council members: Cassandra Kiramman. The name made you raise your eyebrows, but he insisted it was really her daughter, Caitlyn, that made the relationship worth mentioning. He was childhood friends with her and that fact certainly didn’t make jealousy stab green through your chest.

Nonetheless, you and Jayce spent the upcoming days prepping for rigorous mental work. Mostly. There was plenty of studying completed, but you quickly learned Jayce was the type of guy to drag you off as soon as something more interesting made itself known. Movies that you just had to watch, groceries you just had to get right this very second, parties you just had to join—hell, you even met Caitlyn on one of his whims. (You had nothing to worry about between her and Jayce. By the time you were dragging him from the party, she was snogging the face off some girl with a terrible pink undercut.)

It felt weirdly strange leaving the apartment without him. It was your first day of classes and this was always how it played out in your head; but Jayce had a way of tunneling into your consciousness and making you feel as if he had always been there, waking you up with the extra eggs he “accidentally” cooked before he peeled off for the gym, hooking his finger over the top of your phone when he wanted your attention, already recommending books to you left and right.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you tried not to smile. It was all a little obvious, right? He hadn’t mentioned a partner or romantic relationship of any kind and he was being otherwise… overtly boyfriend-ish. It certainly felt like he was courting you.

Your mind wouldn’t allow you the happiness of that for too long. He was probably just super friendly. You saw the way he looked at other girls, treated them just like you—like they were his entire world and there was nothing else he’d rather be doing. That was just it. He was exceedingly kind—to everyone. You weren’t special. Certainly not to someone you only knew for a handful of weeks. It was best to keep your hopes and imagination in check before getting stung. A guy like him was a perfect catch.

You? You subconsciously pulled your finger away from your mouth, refusing to acknowledge the nail you were biting. Or the chipped nail polish you hadn’t bothered to reapply since arriving at your apartment.

You spent the rest of your walk to class consuming yourself with more pleasant thoughts: how nice your room was shaping up, all the new supplies you had splurged on to make studying a little more appetizing, all the new people with similar passions you’d connect with. Your life retook the rose-tinted film again. You were living your dream.

You reached the English building with plenty of time to spare. It was a beautiful sight, inside and out; tall, gleaming windows, masterful stonework, gilded details that shone proudly in the morning sun. You counted your lucky stars ten times over as you opened the main doors and filed in with the other early birds. The interior managed to feel more like a palace than a place of study with the absurdly high ceilings and grand arches, but there were still plenty of nooks where students had taken up reading and crannies where other students were gossiping. You narrowly avoided stepping on a piece of gum.

Ah, a whiff of normalcy in this foreign land of rich kids and rich land. Jayce was wonderful and all, but people born with a silver spoon in their mouth always had a way of being… off-putting to you. They always seemed just a little too nonchalant about life.

You continued on, looking at the map you printed just to make sure you were going the right way. You already knew, from having taken the route preemptively, but it felt good to visualize the arrow you had drawn guiding you along like those little quest helpers in MMOs. You smiled to yourself at the thought and continued until you made it to a set of huge doors leading to the largest lecture hall in the building.

Your first class was with Dr. Heimerdinger, a well-known professor more in physics and engineering than in your side of academia; but he was also well-versed in philosophy and ethics, which was what you were taking to ease yourself into the heavy course load of grad school. There were at least a hundred other students who were doing the same thing, of course, but a much larger portion of them were just genuine fans of Heimerdinger’s work. He had published a great many books that took high-concept math and physics and digested them for the layman, making him not only a spokesperson to the general public for wilder scientific concepts but a beloved figure to those who wished they could take a similar place in society. He was intelligent, charismatic, and flippantly folksy. What wasn’t there to love?

You appreciated his books on the level of language they used, but not much past it. You were here for linguistics, literature; to you, these contained the realm of math—for what would math be if one didn’t have the language to express it?—and were therefore more worthwhile expenditures. Heimerdinger had a few fun interviews that you had enjoyed, but that didn’t push you into the realm of awe when you saw him, also early, when you stepped into the hall.

What did catch your eye was the dark-haired man speaking with him. He was far taller—though, in the case of Heimerdinger, that wasn’t a difficult feat—and leaned casually on a cane; but when his amber eyes caught yours, you couldn’t help the trill of excitement that flashed through your stomach. He was smartly dressed and exceedingly handsome. He had an air of someone who knew he belonged there. All of this expounded the fluttering in your stomach, the blush that rose to your cheeks, the way you scuttled past the desk towards a chair near the front of the hall.

There were a few others who were now dotting the Colosseum-style seats, but you felt the man’s gaze follow you and settle as you did. You met them again, to feel that flash of attraction. You weren’t sure it was mutual, but his hooded eyes lingered on you before returning to your professor.

Now that was a man that could distract you from Jayce. A crush was just about the only thing potent enough to distract from, well, another crush. While one was virtually demanding your attention like a golden retriever puppy, it was equally as fun to burn slowly.

Students began to pour in as the class’ beginning time drew near. You had long set up your laptop and notebook, neatly assigned the date at the top of your paper, had the day-one presentation pulled up on your screen; you were now preoccupied with a worn paperback that had survived both your high school and college years. It brought a comforting slice of familiarity when you needed it most.

But you were mostly just using it to stop yourself from looking at the handsome stranger still chatting with Heimerdinger. His hair defied the laws of physics. In fact, it was making you a little jealous; just how the hell did he get perfect, beachy waves like that?

“Good morning everyone!”

Heimerdinger’s pleasantly squeaky voice earned the immediate, rapt attention of the entire hall. You supposed that was precisely the measure of someone’s power—just how quickly they could command a room.

“I’m so very glad you could all make it! We’ll start class in a few minutes. Make sure you have a notebook and your brains at the ready! Joining us today is my assistant, Viktor. He’s not my TA, so don’t address him as such—he will be contributing to future lectures just as much as I.”

Viktor.

The name immediately stuck in your memory. You gazed over to him, just as you were sure hundreds of other eyes did; but that amber gaze was only returned to you. He held it, just for a moment, before the professor was speaking again and had regained control of everyone’s attention.

You knew day-one classes were going to be a breeze and Heimerdinger was thankfully no exception. He went over the syllabus, his expectations, how this class was situated in the overarching graduate program, and his long, long list of philosophy books that were “recommended” (but totally implied to be mandatory so as to not be the object of his academic ire).

Class otherwise went off with a hitch, though something—other than the man grading papers quietly at the furthest end of the lecture hall—caught your attention. A quote, misworded and misattributed, soiled a slide on Heimerdinger’s presentation. You scribbled it down in your notebook. You doubted you’d have the guts to talk to a master like your professor himself, but…

You mentally smiled like the fucking Grinch.

Class wrapped up, and you virtually skipped down the steps to the front of the hall. While a large flock of freshmen surrounded Heimerdinger, asking for autographs or gushing praise, you were the only one to break off for his assistant. He was already rising from his seat, but he stopped in his tracks when he realized you were beelining towards him, fully intent on starting a conversation.

“Yes?” he asked, voice low and thick with an accent you couldn’t quite place.

“Viktor, right?”

“That’s correct. Who am I speaking to, exactly?”

You babbled your name as you side-eyed your professor, hardly distinguishable from the crowd of awed students. “But that’s really not important. I, uh… I think I caught a mistake in Dr. Heimerdinger’s presentation.”

Viktor’s eyebrows raised dramatically. “A mistake? On day one? You must be very confident to make a claim like that.”

“I am,” you insisted. You opened your bag, fumbled through it to break your notebook free.

“Then speak with Heimerdinger.”

You gaped for a moment, enough for him to start headway towards the exit without so much as a wave goodbye.

“I—Well, hold on!” you gasped, catching up with him as you flipped to the page where you wrote your note. “There’s a reason I came to you. First of all, he has more fangirls than a boy band.”

Viktor let out a quiet chuckle. He wasn’t convinced you were much more than a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed first-year grad student that was attempting to use him to get to his boss. But your comment was funny, he’d give you that.

With his cold exterior melted, just enough to give you confidence, you continued.

“Secondly, I like corroboration. What would academia be if people published journals with zero peer review or references? Little more than fairy tale.” You gestured loosely. “A nice thought, but nothing to hold it down in reality. It also means that the experienced are subject to the same rules as the inexperienced. Basic quote credentials included.”

Viktor adjusted the black frames on his nose, as if he was actually seeing you for the first time. He leaned heavily on his cane as you both stopped before the exit. You assumed he was thinking of something to say until he, with apparent annoyance, tapped the door with his cane.

“Oh shit!” you gasped, pushing the heavy thing open for him as you began to blush. “I’m so sorry!”

When he passed by you, his indignation had warmed to a sort of mischievous smile.

“What was that about being inexperienced?” he teased.

“I—Well, to be totally fair, I was trying to have a conversation! Y’know, a thing that usually happens when two people talk?” You crossed your arms, embarrassed. “I wasn’t really paying attention to walking.”

“I can’t really say the same,” he replied, looking down at his cane. The casualness of his comment caught you off-guard, but it was only a moment before you both shared a laugh.

“See? Nothing to get so flustered about,” Viktor virtually purred at you. You swear it was just his accent, but no amount of justification or explanation was going to make that flash of attraction stop pulsing through you. “I apologize for leaving you hanging. I do believe we share a similar point of view—after all, Heimerdinger hired me as his assistant for a reason.”

You looked at him, a little befuddled. “Just to catch his mistakes?”

“Ehh…” He tilted his head side to side as he searched for words. “That makes him sound bad, and me sound rather useless. We catch each other’s mistakes, no? Peer review, as you said yourself.”

“Why be his assistant then, if you’re on the same level?”

“Because experienced and inexperienced still play by the same rules,” he replied with a knowing smirk.

“...Touché,” you replied, unable to help the smile growing across your face.

“Now, do tell of this mistake you found. I’m more inclined to believe you after that little spiel.”

“That’s a little hypocritical to say, after admitting you’re inexperienced yourself.”

“I’m not a first-year.” He replied with a smile that belied how he was teasing you once again. Neither of you could help the smiles creeping onto your faces.

“Ohhhhh, I see, so there’s a double standard.”

“Mm… yes, exactly. Now you’re starting to get it.”

While you were concerned with mentally keeping up with Viktor and trying to not drown in your attraction to him, a dark figure tagged behind you, clouded in a cluster of students. It carried a book, not to blend in. It was fated to carry this weight.

images used: fanart by wr0wn • star divider • scribble divider

[kjupchurch-xx]

The Interview - Tumblr Request from 08/17

As I walked into work, I was stopped by my boss, who informed me that we had a celebrity she needed me to work in for today's segment. Due to the revenue that Deadpool & Wolverine had pulled in, I wasn't shocked when she told me we would be expecting Hugh Jackman to stop in today. Ryan Reynolds was originally coming, but had an emergency with one of his children.

I walked into my dressing room and got myself put together, making sure my button down blouse and black skirt looked flawless. I triple checked my messy up-do and my make-up, fixing it about three times and still not being completely satisfied. 

"He's here, he'll be coming to you in 5." My cameraman said through the door. 

"Okay." I called back before checking myself in the mirror once again. 

I quickly stepped out, seeing Hugh and my boss walking down the hall. Fuck, he's sexy, even at 55. I avoided them, making a beeline for the area the interview would be taking place. I assessed the area, making sure everything was perfect. Due to the last minute setup, there was no script. It would all be 100% ad-libbed. 

"Hugh, this is your interviewer, the phenomenal, miss Kaitlyn." My boss said with a smile, bringing him up to me. 

I smiled, extending my hand to shake his, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Jackman."

He smiled, grabbing my hand and kissing it, "Call me Hugh." He said with an accent. 

My boss smirked, "Do not hold back on Mr. Jackman with your questions. We want this to be a viral interview. Let's break the internet." She said with a wink. 

Hugh and I chuckled as I tried hiding my blush from him kissing my hand, "Understood." We said in unison. 

She walked off, leaving us a minute to ourselves before the camera started rolling. I quickly looked at Hugh, "If I do ask a risque question you're not comfortable with, we can edit it out." I said with a nervous smile. 

He smirked at me, "Nothing's off limits, darling." He said with a wink. 

I chuckled slightly, "Are you sure?"

He nodded, "Let's have some fun." 

I cocked my head at him, in shock. I figured a person with the career he had built would be a bit more reserved. This should be fun. 

As I led him to the two couches we'd be sitting on for the interview, I couldn't help but notice his gaze on my legs and backside when I'd turned back to ask if he was ready to begin. He quickly reverted his gaze to my face as he noticed he'd gotten caught gawking. 

I took a seat on my couch, as he plopped down onto the other couch across from me. My cameraman gave me a nod to let me know we were rolling. 

"Boy, do I have a surprise for you guys today!..." I said enthusiastically towards the camera, "My guest today is none other than Mr. Hugh Jackman from the new film, Deadpool & Wolverine." I said with a wide smile as the camera panned out showing Hugh in the view. 

"How are you, gorgeous?" Hugh asked, looking at me with a smile. 

I giggled, "I'm great, how're you?" 

He smirked, "You know, I'm good... I'm really good, but I'd be even better if you were on this couch with me." His voice sounding a bit flirty. 

I chuckled as he continued, "I'm feelin' a little lonely with Ryan not here." He joked as he patted the seat on the couch beside him. 

I moved from my spot on my couch over to his, "Ready for some juicy questions?" I asked him, wigging my eyebrows playfully. 

He bit his lips, nodding his head slightly, "Do I get to also ask you juicy questions?" 

I smirked, "We'll see. It depends on how satisfied with your answers I am." 

He smiled at me and cockily stated, "Oh babe, I don't doubt I can make you feel satisfied." 

I covered my mouth as it was gaping a bit, which caused him to chuckle. He quickly threw his arm over my shoulder, looking at me, "What's your question?" 

I quickly regrouped myself and asked, "When doing a kissing scene, is it important to make it look realistic or keep it professional?" 

He giggled at me, "Who says I can't do both?" 

"Can you?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. 

"Would you like a demonstration?" He asked, a sly smile on his lips. 

My boss did say we were breaking the internet with this interview. It wasn't televised, meaning everything was not off limits. That always made things interesting. 

I chuckled, "You're not going to kiss me."

He smiled cheekily at me as he leaned towards me, placing one hand on my chin as his other hand rested on my cheek. "The key to a good kissing scene, is you always leave the audience wondering if the physical connection is real." He said lowly as his eyes gazed from my eyes, to my lips, back up towards my eyes as his face got closer to mine. 

I couldn't help myself and began biting my lip in anticipation. I could feel my palms growing sweaty and my core starting to heat up. "You ready, Sweetheart?" He asked with a low voice, barely above a whisper as I slightly nodded for him to continue. Before I could react again, his lips met mine. 

His lips were soft and warm. I felt him slightly nibble on my lower lip as he pulled away. I took a deep breath as a pink blush appeared on my face, "How was that?" He asked cheekily. 

I laughed as I shifted on the couch, "That was...Pretty good. Do you kiss everyone that interviews you?" I asked sarcastically. 

He shook his head, "Only the cute ones." He said matter of factly. 

He answered a few more questions, mostly regarding X-Men, Deadpool & Wolverine, his recent divorce and his life as a father of two now adult children before we went back to the more juicier questions. 

"When is it my turn to ask you a question?" He asked, smiling devilishly. 

I shrugged, "Go ahead." I chuckled. 

He gave me a questioning look before smirking, "So, Miss Kaitlyn, do you know the difference between a French kiss and an Australian kiss?" He asked, trying to sound as if he were going to actually explain something to me rather than make a joke. 

I thought for a moment before shaking my head, "I don't think I've heard of an Australian kiss." 

He raised his brow at me, "Okay. So it's the same thing as your regular French kiss, except in Australia, it's done down under." 

My eyes widened as my jaw hit the floor, which caused him to laugh, "Cat got your tongue, Sweetheart?" He asked playfully as he noticed the shocked look on my face. 

I shook my head, slightly biting my lip, deciding to turn the tables on him. "My turn again." 

He looked at me, proud of his question considering my reaction, "Hit me with it." He said, crossing his arms. 

I smirked at him, "Some people call you Huge instead of Hugh." I stated, he looked at me, giving me a nod wondering where I was going with the question. "Is it because you're huge?" I asked, pursing my lips into a smile. 

He chuckled, clearly surprised by my bold question, "Do you wanna know?" He gave me a cheeky smile. 

I nodded, confidently, "I do wanna know." 

He leaned in closely, I could feel his hot breath on my ear as he whispered, "Meet me in one of the dressing rooms after we wrap."

I chuckled as I looked towards the camera once he pulled away, "I'm not at liberty to say." Then I playfully mouthed, "Huge" at the camera while trying to contain my laughter. 

We went through a few more questions regarding Wolverine & Deadpool, and also Ryan Reynolds before we wrapped the interview. Hugh quickly skipped off to his dressing room as I was stopped by my boss, who was pleased with the interview. 

"I can't believe you got him to kiss you! This is going to go great with our views!" She exclaimed happily. 

I laughed, shaking my head, "I was not expecting that." 

She looked at me, a smirk appearing on her lips, "What did he whisper in your ear about him being huge?" She asked. 

I chuckled, "He said he's a shrimp and you'd be very disappointed." 

She laughed at me, "Bullshit. You're going to fuck him, aren't you?" She asked, furrowing her brows in amusement. 

"Bye, Pam!" I yelled as I walked towards the dressing rooms laughing. 

"I want details! Real details!" She called out, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. 

I walked up to his dressing room door, knocking on the door. Was I supposed to knock or just bust in? Sleeping with my guests was something I'd never done, but ever since the kiss, I knew I wanted more. He was driving me crazy with his little remarks during our interview, and he knew exactly what he was doing. 

The door opened in front of me, it was a smiling Hugh, "Oh, so you do want to know?" He said playfully, amusement dripping from his voice. 

I giggled and decided to play around with him, "I was only coming to thank you for being my guest today." I said sarcastically. 

He moved to the side, motioning for me to come in his dressing room. "You're so welcome, love." He said, sarcasm dripping in his voice. 

 He knew why I was there. He sat down on the lounge that was in the dressing room, kicking his feet up on the ottoman and looked at me, "Join me, I promise I don't bite hard." He smirked. 

I blushed as I sat beside him, "FYI, I don't kiss my interviewers, but you were looking too damn cute." He said, looking at my cleavage. 

I chuckled, "I don't normally kiss the people I'm interviewing, but you're sexy as fuck and I wanted to know if you were a good kisser." 

He smiled cheekily at me before he reached over, pulling me onto his lap so I was straddling his lap. "This what you came to my dressing room for?" He smirked, gazing into my eyes as he gripped my onto my hips tightly. 

I bit my lip, looking at his, "Maybe...Is this why you invited me?" I asked him. 

He giggled as he began unbuttoning my blouse, revealing my black lacy bra. I ran my fingers into his hair as I leaned down, kissing him and helping him discard my blouse. Our kiss was much better than the interview kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, biting at it with his teeth before his tongue began dancing with mine as his hands explored my breasts. I could fee his excitement growing under me. 

I lifted myself up slightly as I began toying with his belt, he pulled away, mumbling against my lips, "Eager, aren't you?" 

I chuckled, "Research purposes." I said trying to remain serious as he helped me undo his belt, unzip his pants and pull his rather...large member out. I bit my lip as I saw it. He was rock hard and had veins protruding from his shaft. He was above average and deliciously thick. I couldn't decide if I wanted him in my mouth or inside me. 

"Research purposes..." He was becoming increasingly amused by my wit, "Like what you see, baby?" He bit his lip, as he pushed his hips upwards towards me. 

 I licked my lips, still gazing at it. I pushed my thong to the side as I lifted myself over him, sinking down on the length. I could hear him gasp as he entered me, while I gasped at the size that was stretching me perfectly. I felt his hands grip my hips tightly as I began bouncing on him. He moved one hand to my breasts as he pulled my bra down and began nibbling and sucking on my nipples, causing me to whimper as he began pushing his hips upwards to meet my bounces. 

I threw my head back as I ran my fingers through his black hair that was becoming quickly disheveled. "Fuck, you're so tight." He groaned against my breasts. "You ride my cock so well, love." He groaned. 

I could feel myself begin tightening around him as I felt him start to throb inside me. "Shit, I'm gonna cum." I moaned, as I tugged harder on his hair as I sped my bouncing up. 

"Cum all over me, baby." He moaned as he started thrusting his hips harder upwards. 

His words and his accent made me come undone. I could feel the throbbing of his cock, he was almost there. "Get on your knees." He demanded lowly. 

I quickly hopped off of his lap and assumed the position on my knees in front of him. He grabbed himself and sat up from the couch and began stroking in front of me as his moans became louder. Watching him stroke his cock was making me ready to go again. I pulled my bra down further, grabbing my breasts and squeezing them for them. 

He let out one loud groan as he threw his head back and began covering my breasts in his cum. I bit my lip as I watched how much pleasure it brought him. 

After he finished, he quickly stood up and grabbed a towel, handing it to me. "I'm sorry about your blouse." He chuckled. 

I giggled, taking the towel, "Don't be. I'm sure it'll sell on TikTok shop." 

He laughed, rolling his eyes at my humor before pecking my lips. 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The paradox of choice screens

I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

It's official: the DOJ has won its case, and Google is a convicted monopolist. Over the next six months, we're gonna move into the "remedy" phase, where we figure out what the court is going to order Google to do to address its illegal monopoly power:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/07/revealed-preferences/#extinguish-v-improve

That's just the beginning, of course. Even if the court orders some big, muscular remedies, we can expect Google to appeal (they've already said they would) and that could drag out the case for years. But that can be a feature, not a bug: a years-long appeal will see Google on its very best behavior, with massive, attendant culture changes inside the company. A Google that's fighting for its life in the appeals court isn't going to be the kind of company that promotes a guy whose strategy for increasing revenue is to make Google Search deliberately worse, so that you will have to do more searches (and see more ads) to get the info you're seeking:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

It's hard to overstate how much good stuff can emerge from a company that's mired itself in antitrust hell with extended appeals. In 1982, IBM wriggled off the antitrust hook after a 12-year fight that completely transformed the company's approach to business. After more than a decade of being micromanaged by lawyers who wanted to be sure that the company didn't screw up its appeal and anger antitrust enforcers, IBM's executives were totally transformed. When the company made its first PC, it decided to use commodity components (meaning anyone could build a similar PC by buying the same parts), and to buy its OS from an outside vendor called Micros-Soft (meaning competing PCs could use the same OS), and it turned a blind eye to the company that cloned the PC ROM, enabling companies like Dell, Compaq and Gateway to enter the market with "PC clones" that cost less and did more than the official IBM PC:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/08/ibm-pc-compatible-how-adversarial-interoperability-saved-pcs-monopolization

The big question, of course, is whether the court will order Google to break up, say, by selling off Android, its ad-tech stack, and Chrome. That's a question I'll address on another day. For today, I want to think about how to de-monopolize browsers, the key portal to the internet. The world has two extremely dominant browsers, Safari and Chrome, and each of them are owned by an operating system vendor that pre-installs their own browser on their devices and pre-selects them as the default.

Defaults matter. That's a huge part of Judge Mehta's finding in the Google case, where the court saw evidence from Google's own internal research suggesting that people rarely change defaults, meaning that whatever the gadget does out of the box it will likely do forever. This puts a lie to Google's longstanding defense of its monopoly power: "choice is just a click away." Sure, it's just a click away – a click, you're pretty sure no one is ever going to make.

This means that any remedy to Google's browser dominance is going to involve a lot of wrangling about defaults. That's not a new wrangle, either. For many years, regulators and tech companies have tinkered with "choice screens" that were nominally designed to encourage users to try out different browsers and brake the inertia of the big two browsers that came bundled with OSes.

These choice screens have a mixed record. Google's 2019 Android setup choice screen for the European Mobile Application Distribution Agreement somehow managed to result in the vast majority of users sticking with Chrome. Microsoft had a similar experience in 2010 with BrowserChoice.eu, its response to the EU's 2000s-era antitrust action:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BrowserChoice.eu

Does this mean that choice screens don't work? Maybe. The idea of choice screens comes to us from the "choice architecture" world of "nudging," a technocratic pseudoscience that grew to prominence by offering the promise that regulators could make big changes without having to do any real regulating:

https://verfassungsblog.de/nudging-after-the-replication-crisis/

Nudge research is mired in the "replication crisis" (where foundational research findings turn out to be nonreplicable, due to bad research methodology, sloppy analysis, etc) and nudge researchers keep getting caught committing academic fraud:

https://www.ft.com/content/846cc7a5-12ee-4a44-830e-11ad00f224f9

When the first nudgers were caught committing fraud, more than a decade ago, they were assumed to be outliers in an otherwise honest and exciting field:

https://www.npr.org/2016/10/01/496093672/power-poses-co-author-i-do-not-believe-the-effects-are-real

Today, it's hard to find much to salvage from the field. To the extent the field is taken seriously today, it's often due to its critics repeating the claims of its boosters, a process Lee Vinsel calls "criti-hype":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

For example, the term "dark patterns" lumps together really sneaky tactics with blunt acts of fraud. When you click an "opt out of cookies" button and get a screen that says "Success!" but which has a tiny little "confirm" button on it that you have to click to actually opt out, that's not a "dark pattern," it's just a scam:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/27/beware-of-the-leopard/#relentless

By ascribing widespread negative effects to subtle psychological manipulation ("dark patterns") rather than obvious and blatant fraud, we inadvertently elevate "nudging" to a real science, rather than a cult led by scammy fake scientists.

All this raises some empirical questions about choice screens: do they work (in the sense of getting people to break away from defaults), and if so, what's the best way to make them work?

This is an area with a pretty good literature, as it turns out, thanks in part due to some natural experiments, like when Russia forced Google to offer choice screens for Android in 2017, but didn't let Google design that screen. The Russian policy produced a significant switch away from Google's own apps to Russian versions, primarily made by Yandex:

https://cepr.org/publications/dp17779

In 2023, Mozilla Research published a detailed study in which 12,000 people from Germany, Spain and Poland set up simulated mobile and desktop devices with different kinds of choice screens, a project spurred on by the EU's Digital Markets Act, which is going to mandate choice screens starting this year:

https://research.mozilla.org/browser-competition/choicescreen/

I'm spending this week reviewing choice screen literature, and I've just read the Mozilla paper, which I found very interesting, albeit limited. The biggest limitation is that the researchers are getting users to simulate setting up a new device and then asking them how satisfied they are with the experience. That's certainly a question worth researching, but a far more important question is "How do users feel about the setup choices they made later, after living with them on the devices they use every day?" Unfortunately, that's a much more expensive and difficult question to answer, and beyond the scope of this paper.

With that limitation in mind, I'm going to break down the paper's findings here and draw some conclusions about what we should be looking for in any kind of choice screen remedy that comes out of the DOJ antitrust victory over Google.

The first thing note is that people report liking choice screens. When users get to choose their browsers, they expect to be happy with that choice; by contrast, users are skeptical that they'll like the default browser the vendor chose for them. Users don't consider choice screens to be burdensome, and adding a choice screen doesn't appreciably increase setup time.

There are some nuances to this. Users like choice screens during device setup but they don't like choice screens that pop up the first time they use a browser. That makes total sense: "choosing a browser" is colorably part of the "setting up your gadget" task. By contrast, the first time you open a browser on a new device, it's probably to get something else done (e.g. look up how to install a piece of software you used on your old device) and being interrupted with a choice screen at that moment is an unwelcome interruption. This is the psychology behind those obnoxious cookie-consent pop-ups that website bombard you with when you first visit them: you've clicked to that website because you need something it has, and being stuck with a privacy opt-out screen at that moment is predictably frustrating (which is why companies do it, and also why the DMA is going to punish companies that do).

The researchers experimented with different kinds of choice screens, varying the number of browsers on offer and the amount of information given on each. Again, users report that they prefer more choices and more information, and indeed, more choice and more info is correlated with choosing indie, non-default browsers, but this effect size is small (<10%), and no matter what kind of choice screen users get, most of them come away from the experience without absorbing any knowledge about indie browsers.

The order in which browsers are presented has a much larger effect than how many browsers or how much detail is present. People say they want lots of choices, but they usually choose one of the first four options. That said, users who get choice screens say it changes which browser they'd choose as a default.

Some of these contradictions appear to stem from users' fuzziness on what "default browser" means. For an OS vendor, "default browser" is the browser that pops up when you click a link in an email or social media. For most users, "default browser" means "the browser pinned to my home screen."

Where does all this leave us? I think it cashes out to this: choice screens will probably make a appreciable, but not massive, difference in browser dominance. They're cheap to implement, have no major downsides, and are easy to monitor. Choice screens might be needed to address Chrome's dominance even if the court orders Google to break off Chrome and stand it up as a separate business (we don't want any browser monopolies, even if they're not owned by a search monopolist!). So yeah, we should probably make a lot of noise to the effect that the court should order a choice screen, as part of a remedy.

That choice screen should be presented during device setup, with the choices presented in random order – with this caveat: Chrome should never appear in the top four choices.

All of that would help address the browser duopoly, even if it doesn't solve it. I would love to see more market-share for Firefox, which is the browser I've used every day for more than a decade, on my laptop and my phone. Of course, Mozilla has a role to play here. The company says it's going to refocus on browser quality, at the expense of the various side-hustles it's tried, which have ranged from uninteresting to catastrophically flawed:

https://www.fastcompany.com/91167564/mozilla-wants-you-to-love-firefox-again

For example, there was the tool to automatically remove your information from scummy data brokers, that they outsourced to a scummy data-broker:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/3/22/24109116/mozilla-ends-onerep-data-removal-partnership

And there's the "Privacy Preserving Attribution" tracking system that helps advertisers target you with surveillance advertising (in a way that's less invasive than existing techniques). Mozilla rolled this into Firefox on an opt out basis, and made opting out absurdly complicated, suggesting that it knew that it was imposing something on its users that they wouldn't freely choose:

https://blog.privacyguides.org/2024/07/14/mozilla-disappoints-us-yet-again-2/

They've been committing these kinds of unforced errors for more than a decade, seeking some kind of balance between monopolistic web companies and its users' desire to have a browser that protects them from invasive and unfair practices:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2014/may/14/firefox-closed-source-drm-video-browser-cory-doctorow

These compromises represent the fallacy that Mozilla's future depends on keeping bullying entertainment companies and Big Tech happy, so it can go on serving its users. At the same time, these compromises have alienated Mozilla's core users, the technical people who were its fiercest evangelists. Those core users are the authority on technical questions for the normies in their life, and they know exactly how cursed it is for Moz to be making these awful compromises.

Moz has hemorrhaged users over the past decade, meaning they have even less leverage over the corporations demanding that they make more compromises. This sets up a doom loop: make a bad compromise, lose users, become more vulnerable to demands for even worse compromises. "This capitulation puts us in a great position to make a stand in some hypothetical future where we don't instantly capitulate again" is a pretty unconvincing proposition.

After the past decade's heartbreaks, seeing Moz under new leadership makes me cautiously hopeful. Like I say, I am dependent on Firefox and want an independent, principled browser vendor that sees their role as producing a "user agent" that is faithful to its users' interests above all else:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

Of course, Moz depends on Google's payment for default search placement for 90% of its revenue. If Google can't pay for this in the future, the org is going to have to find another source of revenue. Perhaps that will be the EU, or foundations, or users. In any of these cases, the org will find it much easier to raise funds if it is standing up for its users – not compromising on their interests.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/12/defaults-matter/#make-up-your-mind-already

Image: ICMA Photos (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/icma/3635981474/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

New Year's Day - Kim Mingyu

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, slight angst, lil' bit jealous, college boyfriend Mingyu, non-idol!au

masterlist

Not proofread!

"Tell me why we thought hosting a New Year's party at our apartment would be a good idea!" Your roommate's voice comes booming from the kitchen as you struggle to organise the lights on the wall above the sofa in your shared apartment living room.

"It definitely was not my idea." You bite back, regretting the idea the more by the minute as you clean and plan for the party.

"Haw! The audacity... you invited 15 people." Sam glares at you from the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other holding a ladle in a menacing way.

"I didn't know we would end up having to invite all of them." You admit. Sam sighs and walks towards you. "It's okay babe, I know you only wanted to invite Mingyu. It's not your fault he wanted to bring all 12 of his friends. And that two of them would want to bring their significant others."

"I really am sorry for all the trouble you go through for me Sam. I really appreciate it. Thanks." You both know you mean it. Sam had agreed immediately to the idea of the party seeing as how excited she was to see you and Mingyu get together.

Mingyu had been one of your closest friends in the last two years of university and you have been in love with him since the first semester you had met him. After two very lonely and self-destructive semesters of breaking your own heart, watching him date other girls and staying away from the one person you wanted to be close to, this last fall semester Mingyu had finally shown signs of reciprocating your feelings. Or so Sam felt.

At this point, you were so in your head about the whole thing that you could not differentiate reality from the illusions in your head. Breaking your heart had become a child's play for you and now it took constant encouragement and reiteration from Sam to even try to make moves on Mingyu.

He had been single for a whole semester and his behaviour toward you recently had been way different than before. The whole idea of a New Year's Eve party had been Sam and your idea to get Mingyu to finally realise his emotions (if he had any other than that of friendship for you). While the details had not exactly been worked out, you figured you would at least get to spend time with him in a closed setting.

The initial plan was to invite three of each of your friends and keep it as intimate as possible so that you and Mingyu could spend most of the time together. But when Mingyu had excitedly asked if he could bring along some friends, you had given in thinking it would be two or three but it ended up being thirteen instead. Not your fault that he looked like an absolute puppy when he wanted something.

The party was in an hour and now the two of you were running around trying to set right the drinks, decorations and food. Mingyu had promised to show up earlier and help with the food and setup but he was yet to arrive.

The sound of the doorbell breaks your train of thought and you go to open the door.

Speak of the devil.

"Ya! Why are you so late?" You question before he could greet you. As always Mingyu towers your entire doorway while looking gorgeous. He's wearing a simple black tee and joggers but manages to look like a million bucks.

He giggles and pulls you into one of his famous bear hugs and before he can reply another voice echoes from the stairs leading to your doorway.

"Mingyu ya, help me here please." The voice is soft and high-pitched. Before you can question it, Mingyu turns around and runs downstairs. When he returns, there is a girl in front of him, she is dressed in a modest pink dress, with bouncy curls lining her shoulders and a smile that lightens up her whole face. She is very pretty.

"Oh hi. You must be Y/N, Mingyu talks about you a lot. I'm Maya." She says extending her hand out to you. Her voice is soft and she looks very friendly and you shake her hand with a smile on your face.

"Hi, Maya. Welcome! I hope he has only told good things." You joke lightly and she laughs nodding.

"Yes, yes! I hope it is not a problem for me to join." She says as you lead her in, Mingyu towers over both of you as he walks behind her holding a box full of you're not sure what.

"Absolutely not an issue Maya! Please go have fun."

Once they are in, you close the door and walk straight to the closest restroom. When the locks are secured you open the tap and let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding in. It is not logical for you to jump to conclusions, but the fear still creeps in.

"Y/N, stop being stupid! She's a friend, seems sweet and is probably an amazing friend." You tell yourself through the mirror. But the problem is not her, you wouldn't hate or behave differently with her for a second. the problem is you and your fear that Mingyu has again chosen someone else over you. The problem is he doesn't see you, again, and you get left behind to be the best friend only, again.

The feelings are all too familiar to you after all this time. You are very close to breaking your own heart, hurting yet another piece of you to show up as Mingyu's good friend and support him. You are almost entirely convinced and right as you are about to break down the knock on the bathroom door interrupts you.

"Ya Y/N, you okay?" Mingyu's soft "Y/N-voice" (as Sam calls it) booms through the bathroom doors and stabs your heart like a glass shard. This is why it is so much harder to break your own heart. Because this man is so good and caring and everything you could ever want and yet he would never be yours.

"Y/n?" He calls out again. You wash your face and clear your throat as fast as possible. "Yeah, I'll be out in 5. Go mingle with people." He doesn't reply and you are too preoccupied trying to look party-presentable. This is why you jump when you find him staring right at you when you open the bathroom door.

"Jesus! Why did you scare me like that?" You ask trying to calm your heart rate. Instead of replying to you, he locks the closed room door and faces you while holding your shoulders. "What happened? Who should I hurt?" You chuckle and the worry on his face eases a little bit. His care for you only makes it so much harder to distance yourself and try to move on. This man makes it so hard not to love him.

"I'm fine Mingyu. I just had to use the restroom." You try your best to sound convincing but judging from the look of judgment on his face you can say he didn't buy it. Before he can begin his usual "Let people care about you" rant, Sam calls your name from the other end of the house and you excuse yourself to return to the chaos of the party. The rest of the three hours go by in absolute chaos of 13 grown men and 6 girls trying their best to socialize, vibe, and party in your apartment. You keep your distance from Mingyu and Maya, and find yourself clinging to Seokmin- Mingyu's friend. Seokmin is a very hot guy who is determined to be the party clown and you can't help but laugh every other minute at his antics. Everyone seems to be enjoying it, and several games are played.

"Everyone gather round and settle down. Ten minutes to midnight guys!" The sudden excitement in the air is infectious. You see that Seungcheol and Jihoon have settled on the couch with their girlfriends, Vernon is trying to be subtle about sitting next to Sam's classmate who he has been talking to since the evening began.

Right as you can figure out what to do about your Midnight seat, Sam pulls you into the kitchen.

"Where do u think you are going ?" She has the usual no-bs Sam stance, arms crossed across her chest and sharp eyes that can pierce through you.

"I- I am going to sit before Midnight strikes." You know where this conversation is headed.

"Y/N, why were you going to sit on the stool, alone. At midnight." If Sam's eyes were daggers, you would have bled to death in those few seconds of eye contact. The living room is buzzing with energy and you realize there are only 5 minutes left.

"Sam..." you exhale. She shakes her head in disappointment and walks away. You face the kitchen wall away from the living room and breathe.

Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale... In- "Hey..."

Mingyu's soft voice breaks your flow and you whip your head to see him standing right next to you. His palm is placed on the kitchen counter next to you and he is practically shielding you from the outside world.

"All okay?" He says, his voice is soft and slow. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern and he is leaning down to your height, face inches apart. His face is dripping with concern and it breaks yet another piece of your heart.

It would've been much simpler if you had only considered him a good friend like he does with you.

Mingyu lifts his eyebrows emphasising his question when you don't reply. You clear your throat and nod in affirmation.

"I'm good Gyu." "You sure?" You let a small smile at his concern, god he was so sweet. "Yes, Gyu. Don't worry. Just needed a small break from all the crowd before the new year."

He nods because he understands that sometimes crowds can overwhelm you.

"Why are you here?" You ask him, turning slightly to face him better. This immediately turns out to be a mistake as you are now trapped in between the kitchen counter and Mingyu's big frame. As the noise outside gets louder he leans further down toward your face and you repeat your question closer to his ear.

Can he hear how fast your heart is beating? Will he ever know how much you like him?

"I came to check on you because you were missing." He states matter-of-factly and you roll your eyes.

"There are only two more minutes for midnight Gyu. You should be out there, having fun."

"Yeah, you too." He sounds serious and you sigh.

"I will come out but you should go there. Maya will be waiting for you." Your voice croaks the last sentence and the knife in your heart sinks in further.

Mingyu looks confused at your words. "Why would she be waiting for me?"

"30 seconds to the New Year guys!" Someone shouts from the living room and you take another deep breath. Mingyu's eyes haven't left you and you are too nervous to see him for more than a second at a time.

"See less than a minute. Go out there before you miss your midnight kiss." You say in the brightest tone you can muster, hoping he understands you are referring to Maya and his midnight kiss.

"I don't need to be out there for that." He says the words slowly as his face is inches away from yours.

Huh?

Judging by the smirk on Mingyu's face you probably look like a deer caught in headlights at the moment. You're not sure how long you stay frozen like that until someone yells 15 seconds from the living room.

"Wha- what do you mean?" You gulp.

Mingyu moves his face closer, and he lifts one hand from the counter next to you to hold your chin. He angles your face and analyses it.

"Y/N?" Mingyu's voice comes out in a question, one you seem to be understanding.

Your heart is screaming in joy - "HE WANTS YOU TO BE HIS NEW YEAR'S KISS".

Your head is screaming in fear - "HE IS TOYING WITH YOU. RUN."

You gulp again. Mingyu has the softest smile on his face.

"Mingyu, don't play with my heart." Your voice is barely audible but you know Mingyu heard you. The smile on his face illuminates his eyes.

"Would never dream of it." He says in a deep and soft tone.

"5 SECONDS", a voice travels from the living room.

"Is this real, Gyu?" Your heart is beating in your eyes and you are staring deep into his.

He is now holding your face in both of his palms and your back is pressed on the kitchen counter.

"3 SECONDS!"

"As real our beating hearts, Y/N."

You believe him. Your heart believes him. Your brain has shut the fuck up for once.

"2 SECONDS GUYS!"

"So... can I kiss you ?" Mingyu's expression is now clouded with worry and you smile from your heart.

"1 SECOND!"

You nod quickly and right as everyone from the living room is yelling Mingyu's lips come crashing on yours.

It is everything you imagined, and so much more. His lips move against yours slowly. Both of you are smiling into the kiss. Neither of you is in a hurry at that moment, He is savouring you and you are melting into him.

After what feels like an eternity, both of you break apart for the practical purposes of breathing( who invented that huh?!).

Mingyu's face is still close to yours, lips lightly brushing against each other's.

The living room is bursting with energy and all your friends are there but you couldn't care less about anything at this moment.

"Happy New Year." Mingyu sounds content, his eyes are shining with happiness and his smile is incandescent.

"Happy New Year Gyu."

"I'm never starting a new year any other way after this," Mingyu says and you laugh. "Or any day for that matter." He states as he wraps his arms around your waist now.

God, you could get used to this!

"Oh wow, loverboy! Slow down... we still need to talk about things." You remind him because you have always been the one to bring all the anxiety and sense into this relationship.

"Hmm yeah, but a kiss first?" He asks in his signature puppy-Mingyu face. As you're about to lean in you see Sam enter the kitchen from the corner of your vision. She is startled at first and then breaks into the biggest smile as she leaves the two of you alone.

Your smile widens as Mingyu captures your lips once again.

It's been 5 minutes but this is already turning out to be your favourite year ever!

[respectthepetty]

scared of your thoughts on fk - i think they confuse their friends & each other - feels so intricate

You asked about one specific pair, but . . .

You opened a floodgate!

I already wrote that I like fan service; therefore, I like First and Khaotung's special brand of teary-eyed fan service. However, I also wrote that JoongDunk are my GMMTV favorites because Joong is always hyping up his homies, and Dunk stays Pretty Boy Petty.

So I'm excited to see all four promote The Heart Killers when the show is ready to be released since I think it'll be a hoot watching First and Khaotung call each other best friends with tears in their eyes while Joong sits next to them commenting on how banging Dunk's body is and Dunk openly agreeing that his body is, in fact, banging. Joong and Dunk are always firing shots at First x Khaotung for no good ass reason, so I'm thrilled they will get to do it to First and Khaotung's faces for an extended period of time.

Because to me, most fan service is good since it allows people to see people of the same sex casually being affectionate with each other without the belief that it should be shameful or hidden, so give me all the styles of GMMTV fan service! Give me Force x Book's eighty year friendship, Pond x Phuwin's nerdy fashion model energy, Earth x Mix's marriage and divorce era, Tay x New's fist fights over dessert, Off x Gun's evolution of skinship, Jimmy x Sea's intellectual companionship, Gemini x Forth's "fuck it, we ball' attitude, and all the other 31 Flavors of Branded Pairs the BL world has to offer us.

Because I really do not care what these men do or do not do or if it is real or not. What bothers me is these companies (not just GMMTV) encourage this behavior, then when fans get toxic, the companies leave the actors to deal with the fallout. I also don't like that out actors aren't as well protected and even straight actors and their girlfriends are targeted by fans, which only encourages queer actors to stay closeted while delivering a queer performance and for straight actors to feed into this mind fuckery by being in a pseudo-monogamous relationship with their acting partner which is an extension of our heteronormative societies and their belief that affection can only be reserved for one person.

So my thoughts on First and Khaotung are irrelevant because I'm going to like all these pairs regardless of what they give me. Max and Tul were as open as possible about Max having a girlfriend and Tul being gay, yet that in no way influenced how I enjoyed their fan service. Yin and War have stated several times that what they do is their job, and I'm still clapping every time War chokes Yin. And as much as I truly believe Mos and Bank are married, if they came out today and said they actually hate each other and cannot stand the sight of each other, I'd be proud at their acting skills all these years because I have faked liking my coworkers for a lot less money.

As a Catholic and a slut, I think there is a great sociological study here about how branded pairs help with queer representation regardless if the people in the pairs are queer or not, yet how the pairs must still fit into a digestible frame of traditional (hetero) relationships with affection only being given to one person forever and ever until death (or their contracts) do them part.

So First and Khaotung aren't the only ones confusing people because this entire setup is confusing. They aren't creating some intricate strategy but these companies are. These actors are just out here telling their homies they look cute and going on (hopefully) company-sponsored trips. And if they like it, I love it.

Because I've been pretending to like Karen from Finance for years when I can't stand that bitch, yet I still have a job that pays my bills, so "get it how you live it."

And make it a little queer along the way.