#if you look close enough there's like two references to things i've been watching lately LOL

[hychlorions]

i wanted to see jealous klavier (,,>﹏<,,)

[awearywritersworld]

tell me you don't want me

gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo adds falling in love with his dead best friend's little sister to the list of things that keep him up at night w/c: 1.8k tags/warnings: angst to fluff. gojo takes care of reader when they have a migraine. they watch shark week together, so shark haters beware. arguing, but nothing super harsh. protective!gojo. reader is referred to as a sister but there are no pronouns. gojo is around 27, reader 23. curse words. no out right smut, but a heavily suggestive ending so lets say 18+ a/n: i've been writing purely fluff for gojo, so it seems about time to return to my angst/fluff roots. today's epi made me had me feeling some type of way. may write a part two to this? idk lemme know what you think! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

after you arrived at jujutsu high as a first year, everyone wore the same expression when they looked at you, their eyes full of pity and apprehension. you really couldn't blame them though. after what happened with suguru, you were left a shell of yourself, paranoid that you were destined to the same fate as your older brother.

however, the boy that suguru called his best friend held something different in his gaze whenever his eyes fell on you. understanding, maybe? gojo knew that if there was anyone in the world who missed suguru as much as he did, it had to be you.

for most of the year, the two of you really only talked in passing, dancing around a discussion neither of you were brave enough to initiate. then your brother's birthday rolled around and you found yourself drenched in rain, sneaking into the boys' dormitory to knock on gojo satoru's door.

he wasn't surprised to find you standing there.

"that idiot always refused to let me celebrate his birthday," you blurted out, damp hair sticking to your forehead.

he laughed. it was just a breath, but it was still genuine. "right? he couldn't stand being fussed over for one day."

and as you both stood there, rain pattering against the window, you felt months of unspoken tension melt away. "well, come in. i bought cake."

after that day, gojo took on the roll of your older brother and he really leaned into it. flicking your forehead to annoy you, threatening anyone he thought had a crush on you, giving you advice whenever he deemed you needed it.

you weren't sure if he was aware, even after all these years, that he'd saved you— pulled you away from the brink. you became like the little sister he never had, while he tried his best to fill the hole suguru had left in your heart.

gojo spends more time in your apartment than his own, so it's no surprise when he barges in one afternoon, singing out your name (rather terribly, one might add).

"i have a migraine, 'toru," you groan from the couch, pulling the blanket up over your head as the bright light from behind his figure worsens your discomfort. all of your blinds are shut, the curtains pulled together. "can you please close the door?"

he hums, stepping inside and pulling the door shut quietly. "you seem to be getting them a lot lately."

"probably because i spend so much time with you," you whine facetiously.

he gasps, hand clutching at his heart. "i come all the way here to visit you, only to be ridiculed. my devastation is untellable."

after grabbing a washcloth from the linen closet, he pads over to the kitchen sink. you peer at him from under the blanket as he runs it under cold water, noting how the veins in his forearms become more prominent once he wrings it out.

you're laying across the entirety of the couch, but you scoot away from the edge and he situates himself in the space beside your hip, his body facing you. the corner of his mouth is turned down, evidence of the worry swirling in his chest. he presses the back of his fingers to your forehead before folding the cloth neatly and laying it there.

"you should mention the migraines to shoko," he suggests earnestly.

"they just flare up sometimes, you know that. it's really not a big deal."

"yeah, maybe.. but i still worry about you."

you can't help but notice how close he is and while it feels casual, it also feels... intimate? the cold cloth does bring some relief to your head, though you'd have preferred it if his hand had remained there instead.

"have you eaten?" he questions after a moment, pulling you from your thoughts.

"not yet."

"then i'll go pick up some food," he offers, rising to his feet. "do you need anything else-"

"no," you say a little too quickly, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. "i mean.. can you just stay?"

he suddenly looks very smug. "oh, what's this? are you sure spending more time with me won't make your head feel worse?"

you attempt to roll your eyes but the movement sends a sharp pain through your skull, causing you to grumble. "don't make me hurt you satoru. i was joking."

"i know," he smirks, decently self satisfied. "but you do have to eat, so-"

"there's leftover egg drop in the fridge, can you just warm that up for me please?"

"'course! anything for you, (y/n)-chan!"

his tone makes it sound as if he's teasing you, but he knows it's the truth. he's painfully aware that there isn't a thing you could ask of him that he'd deny. he tries not to think about that though, because he can't bring himself to admit what it all means.

once your soup is ready, he joins you on the couch. you move to sit up and while that makes plenty of room for him, he still lifts your legs, sitting so that they lay across his lap. one of his hands is resting on your shin, the other on your knee.

"shark week?" he suggests as you reach for the remote.

you nod eagerly. "yes."

the two of you have never fought before.

well, maybe that's not entirely true. it isn't uncommon for the both of you to argue over video games, the latest chapter of a manga, or other things of that nature. but you and gojo have never had a genuine disagreement.

that is, until you mention wanting to challenge a decision made by the higher ups. he's well aware of how they deal with people they deem troublesome, so he can't help the vexation that bubbles up in his chest at your words.

"absolutely not," he tells you. his voice is low, not one hint of amusement to be found.

the tone leaves you narrowing your eyes, and you sound a bit misbelieving when you ask, "what do you mean 'absolutely not'?"

after everything that happened with geto, the higher ups have been wary of you. honestly, they're probably just looking for an excuse to pull another stunt like the detention center and he can't risk that. he can't risk losing you.

rather than express any part of that sentiment, however, he just goes all stone faced and vague. it's weird, so naturally it's followed by a bit of back and forth that goes nowhere, the conversation growing unreasonably volatile with each passing second.

why can't you just listen to him? why can't you give him the benefit of the doubt? he's earned that by now, hasn't he?

"i don't understand!" you hiss, your chest heaving with indignation. "why are you acting like this?"

because i love you. because i need you. because you mean more to me than everything else in this world put together.

he can't possibly say that though.. can't lay his shame bare for you to see.. can't bring himself to admit the feelings he has for you.

he's in love with dead best friend's little sister and it's wrong. it keeps him up at night. claws away at his self respect.

"i'll take care of it," he promises, sounding a bit defeated. "just please stay out of it."

"quit treating me like i'm a child, satoru. you're not my father."

your assertion makes the air in the room shift, and the feeling that forms in the pit of gojo's stomach is not unlike a cord being pulled too taut before snapping.

"so what am i then, huh? what am i to you?" he interrogates, taking a step toward you.

his eyes burn with intensity and the conviction in his voice is dizzying, especially since it's meant only for you. he immediately notices the way you stiffen, suddenly unable to meet his eye.

he swallows thickly, any restraint he has left ebbing away once he hears your small, nervous voice. "'toru, w... what do you-"

you're cut off when he takes another step in your direction, your back meeting with the wall after you attempt to maintain the space between the both of you.

one of his palms presses to the wall beside your head, though the other remains at his side. he doesn't want to trap you there, not when he still doesn't have a clear idea of how you're feeling.

his breath fans across your face, your mind struggling to process what was happening. you whisper his name, unsure of how else to respond.

"i want you." he nearly chokes on the words, the pain of admitting them evident in his voice. "want you more than anything."

and he does. he wants you more than the sleep he never gets. more than he wants to honor suguru. more than he wants to be a good man.

his head dips down, your breath catching in your throat when his lips find the spot on your jaw just below your ear.

"please, tell me to stop," he begs, sending a shiver down your spine.

your hands move to his chest, the rise and fall of it uneven and sporadic. god, you make him so fucking weak it's almost pathetic.

his lips shift to your cheek, closer to your mouth, and his hand reaches up to cradle the other side of your face. he sounds irrevocably desperate now, "tell me you don't want me."

your heart's beating so loudly in your ear drums, you can hardly hear yourself speak. "satoru, please."

"please what?" he asks, and for a moment you're unsure of the answer.

you try to open your mouth once more, but the words are lodged in your throat. confusion and frustration rattle around in your head, making it difficult to string together your thoughts. finally you just give in, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling his lips against your own.

he let's out a strangled noise, some unknowable mix of pleasure and relief. his hands land on your hips at once, greedily pulling your body against his own.

his lips are chapped, but they're perfect in the way they move against yours. the kiss isn't clumsy, nor is it unsure. it's ardent and comfortable, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

you pull away first, each of you holding the other's gaze. you're both hazy eyed, your mouths curved into giddy, lovesick grins.

gojo doesn't hesitate when you glance down at his lips, your words easing that bitter self loathing he'd been enduring for longer than he cares to admit. "if you want me... then make me yours."

taglist: @torusmochi @moonmalice

[iihandsiiheavn]

ʚïɞ "a podium to celebrate", pt II. OP81

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⋮ fluff. word count: 1.4k. ʚɞ part I here.

⠀✧₊⁺ oscar piastri x aria giuseppe (red bull driver!female oc)

summary: aria and oscar late night after the hungarian gp.

warnings: pure fluff but badly written, i am sorry. taylor swift references, max verstappen as a special guest, could have ended in smut but the writer didn't feel like it should.

"Where are you going?"

Aria cursed under her breath as she heard the neighboring door creak open, revealing her teammate’s face, grinning mischievously.

"Fuck off," she whispered, her backpack light on her shoulders as she glanced back at the driver over her shoulder. "Go to sleep. I got more points than you today. Go mull over that."

"Calling Christian right now... Babybull is leaving the hotel, and I bet she’s headed to McLaren’s. Should I guess the room?"

Verstappen pretended to be on the phone, teasing the younger driver, making her step back and playfully swat at his arm.

They were good friends. Ever since Aria debuted in Formula One, Max had been someone she looked up to and a fun coworker. She knew he was joking as he watched her leave.

"It's easy to guess the room; you'd be the one sneaking into their first driver's. I've read about it on Twitter," she taunted, giggling as he rolled his blue eyes. "Fuck off, Max. Go to bed. Leave me alone.

"You'll be alone with the winner. Let me at least crack a joke!" he continued in a playful tone, watching her resume walking. "Wishing my mate Piastri good luck — you've got too much energy."

"I'm sure he can keep up," she quipped before heading to the elevators and out of the building.

Sneaking off was something both the Red Bull and McLaren drivers were used to doing; it was all fun when they had days off and could freely be around each other. But there was also the thrill of leaving their own hotels just to see one another, and that’s where Aria was headed now. A rented car waited for her just outside, and the drive to the hotel where the McLaren crew was staying was quick — nothing like a GP lap, but close enough.

She knocked softly on her best friend's door, which opened to reveal a soft smile before she jumped into his arms.

"Hello, Formula One Grand Prix winner... How are we holding up?" Her tone was sing-song, arms wrapped around the Aussie’s neck as he lifted her by the waist.

"We are actually... having pizza and drinking soda for the celebration, and... whatever else you might have in mind."

Aria giggled as he carried her through the suite, making sure to discard her backpack somewhere on the floor. They did this every now and then, even on nights that could’ve turned into wild parties. While the other RB-MC duo might be headed to the club, these two would be headed to the couch.

They had known each other since their karting days, when it all started with a humble Oscar and a small-but-fiery Aria. He had always been too nice for the go-kart tracks, and she had felt the same protective instinct around him; a special kind of care he sometimes felt unworthy of.

Then things grew, just like they did. Formula 2, testing in better cars, and finally, the dream became a reality. They were still there for each other, spending nights together, celebrating wins, or keeping vigil after losses.

A lot had changed since the beginning — not just the karts evolving into complex, expensive machines. Like the way their lips touched so naturally now. Aria cupped the Aussie’s face before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, a simple peck they always played off as a joke. They handled things better that way.

"Alright, Mr. First-Win, put me on the couch so I can lay down and watch our new edits. Let’s go." She tapped the boy on the shoulder, prompting him to carefully place her on the sofa.

"Taylor Swift songs as requested." he teased, kneeling on the couch, his knees on either side of Aria’s body before he laid his head on her chest, waiting only a second before her fingers found their way into his hair.

Physical intimacy — that was them. They had their moments with no clothes on, nights that vanished too quickly, or touching each other in ways that ignited a fire. But there was something special about moments like these, too.

Just existing around each other, finding comfort amid their crazy, rushed routine — being each other's safe place. That was it, simply put.

"Yes, yes. Taylor Swift songs. ‘Daylight,’ please, dear Lord. Let a teenage girl edit us to the bridge of ‘Daylight,’ please." Aria joked as usual, while Oscar giggled on top of her, watching her TikTok before she searched for their names in the search bar.

"This is just crazy. Do you ever think about it?" Oscar’s voice dropped at least an octave.

"About how cute we look on podiums? And talking to each other in the paddock?" she teased, her fingers tracing soft lines on his scalp as his hands rested on her sides.

"About how people think they’re making things up about us when it’s actually... real."

They had made a deal ever since their friendship started including kisses and waking up naked in each other’s beds. It was easier without the public's eyes on their personal lives. But still, people insisted on "making up" a relationship for them.

They did it with any two drivers who ever looked at each other, so why wouldn’t it happen to the one duo that was always together? Driver’s parade? Leaving the paddock? There was even a clip of Aria waiting outside McLaren’s motorhome as if she were Romeo waiting for Juliet.

However, she had only one thing in mind. "Real."

"So we’re real." A little smirk tugged at her lips, which Oscar couldn’t see, but there was no way he didn’t know her well enough.

"Stop smiling." he chuckled, his own lips curling up. "We were always real, Aria. Quit this talk."

"Real like... edits of us with that Zayn song? Look at us, look at us!" She shoved her phone in his face, the screen flashing edits of their moments earlier that day, set to the song.

But Oscar was quick to notice things, especially when it came to Aria. She ran from deep conversations and would joke her way out of anything, even if she had to joke all the way to heaven to avoid uncomfortable topics.

"Real like real. Real like really, really, really real." It had been on his mind ever since the cool-down room. It was.

"Hmm... Yeah." Aria mimicked the probable hours of footage of Oscar making these same sounds, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly as he raised his head just enough to see her. "What do you mean, Osc?"

Oscar was trying to get to three simple words.

But Aria made it so hard to get to that point. They had said it before, they did every now and then. The challenge was fitting the words into what they truly meant.

Not as a friend, not as someone who grew up with you, not as the fan they were of each other — none of that.

"You don’t?" He raised his head a little more, moving up her body in a funny way just to be closer. "Aria, you know I would’ve had a very, very strange first win if it wasn’t for you, right?"

"Nah, I just did the world a favor by soaking you in champagne. You won the race, remember?"

"Stop joking, Ri. I’m serious." His thumb caressed her chin, his eyes roaming over her face. "You’ve been doing this for me for years now — you’re always there."

"Because I always win." A forced, playful smile tugged at her lips as Oscar lightly rolled his eyes. "That’s what we do for each other, Osc. Stop. No need to say anything."

"Hmm?" At this point, he was lost, focused on how her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how her lips moved with her Italian accent, and how it felt to be on top of her. Just existing. "You know what, Aria? I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a—"

No need to finish. There wasn’t a need to say it because they had always known. Her lips crashed into his like a car into a wall. Everything went silent as her hands found their way back into Oscar’s hair, caressing the soft locks as his body lifted slightly.

The kiss deepened, a rush of emotions pouring into it. A tender feeling, yet filled with passionate intensity.

He was still on top of her, but no longer lying down. One hand balanced on the sofa, while the other hooked around the girl's neck, their bodies pulled closer, as if afraid to let go.

Every second seemed to stretch, filled with the sweetness of the moment as they melted into each other, the kiss saying everything Aria didn’t let Oscar say.

"I know you love me," she whispered, still close to his lips as they both gasped for air. "Because I love you too."

ʚïɞ

[blegh-110]

okay i need a part two where she gets her own group and kinda starts acting like sam and she starts partying and hanging out with older boys to cope and sam gets all mad and jealous

unless you already have an idea either way i love ur fic 🙏🙏

fyi, anon is referring to "im not a princess, this aint a fairytale" part of older brother's best friend!sam. Honestly I was going to write this after I was finished with the whole series, but I'm kinda in a little writing rut right now and I've been wanting to write this since I got it so hopefully this will help with it. Anywaysss…

Let's say this happens, and Sam is at one of his high school parties where kids are drinking and doing drugs and all that kinda stuff, and he sees reader there across the room. That boy is beyond shocked!!

 He thinks it makes sense for him to be there, he's been making not so great decisions and hanging out with the wrong people lately. But you? He knows how much you hate big, loud crowds like this, as well as the smell of weed and smoke from cigarettes. He knows because the last time he saw you you had given you a quick side hug after convincing his teacher to let him out of detention, you quite literally scrunched your nose and turned your head when your nose made contact with his shirt. He and his friends had smoked a bit in the parking lot right before. 

So right when he sees you he’s wondering what the fuck are you doing here? And why? Do you have a ride home? Who did you come with?

Then he goes from concerned and confused to really fucking concerned and confused when he sees a boy handing you a drink and putting your hair behind your ears. He’s heard about this other guy and he’s a total asshole. He knows because he sits right next to a group of girls in his math class who absolutely hate him, apparently he cheated on one of them and just treated her horribly. As soon as he sees him touch you he’s storming towards you two, not caring who he shouldered and bumped into. 

“Alright, get the fuck away,” Sam pushed the other boy’s shoulder roughly, then grabbed your bicep and began pulling you with him, “lets go.”

“Sam, what are you doing?” You attempted to free yourself from his grip but he was just going through the crowd of people so fast that your feet couldn’t stop moving with him. Soon enough he had gotten you outside to his car. 

“C’mon.” He looked back at you expecting you to get in but you continued to stand in your place, the very last thing you wanted was to be near him.

“Does your brother know you’re here?” That was what broke you, if he found out he’d blow up on you. With defeated and frustrated tears in your eyes you got in the passenger seat, letting out an annoyed sigh when Sam closed the door for you. 

“I don’t know who you’ve been hanging out with, but you need to be careful around people like him.” You didn’t say anything in response, only staring out the window watching the cars go by and the silence killed Sam. He didn’t like that there was no confusion or worry at his words, so he continued talking, just so he could hopefully get something from you.

“I’ve heard some awful stuff about him, he probably looks like a nice guy but he’s not.” He looked at you, maybe he just didn’t see your reaction.

Nothing. 

“Guys like him, (Y/N), they’re gonna treat you like shit if you’re not careful.” He spit out, thinking if he was aggressive with his word then you would understand what you were getting yourself into. 

“That’s hard to imagine.” Is all you say and Sam is fully ready to stop the car, reevaluate everything he’s done and apologize but he keeps driving. This was not how he wanted it to happen. Not when you were already angry and not when he didn't have his thoughts all together. So he gripped the steering wheel tightly and sighed, trying to let out his growing frustration in silence. 

And when he was back home, he was up for another hour going insane wondering if that wasn’t your first party you’ve been to, and that maybe that wasn’t the first time you were out with the other guy (it wasn’t your first party and it wasn’t your first time with him lol).

[krisdreaming]

One Week

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x f!reader

Summary: You and Kuroo decide to spend the week leading up to your wedding sleeping apart. After all, it will make your wedding night feel that much more special, right?

WC: 2.2k

A/N: Hopefully the text message format I used makes sense 😬 This is 100% inspired by an episode of How I Met Your Mother in which Marshall and Lily do this exact thing. Tbh it's my comfort show and this is like my 5th time watching it, and when the episode came around, the fic idea hit me like a truck. ALSO there is a small reference to one of my old past fics in here, and if you get it you're a real one.

By the time you get to your best friend and maid of honor's apartment, it's late. The whole day had been spent putting together all of the favors and décor for your wedding, now only one week away. You're so exhausted you feel like you could fall asleep on your feet right here in the entryway, but she pulls you the rest of the way inside, wrestling your bag through the door after you.

"Geez!" She huffs. "Why's this so heavy? You didn't pack Tetsurou in here, did you?"

You roll your eyes. "A week is a long time! I had to pack a lot of stuff. Besides, bringing him would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?" You raise an eyebrow. This had initially been your idea, after all. You thought that spending the week before your wedding away from each other would make the night of your wedding that much more special. Since you already live together, you figured some time apart would probably do you good, anyway.

"I suppose it would," She agrees, "But I know how you two are." You narrow your eyes at her, but before you can respond, she's already tugging you toward the living room.

"I've got the sofa bed all ready for you," She announces with a proud flourish, and you feel almost like you could collapse just at the sight of it. It's full of fluffy blankets and two giant pillows, and she's even generously loaned you one of her plushies.

"It looks like heaven," You groan, stifling a yawn. "I'm wiped."

"So am I," She agrees, fighting back a yawn of her own. "Guess we'll have to save the sleepover girl talk for tomorrow night," She shrugs. "It'll be just like middle school all over again!" She loops her arm through yours, and you can't help but giggle at the thought. The two of you sure did share some wild sleepovers back in the day. "Alright," She finally says, "I'll see you in the morning."

When you're finally ready for bed, you crawl under the covers happily. You snuggle into the pillows as you cocoon into the blankets, trying not to think about how strange it is to be lying in bed all alone for once. There's no warm body wrapped around yours, and not even your cat to curl up against you. "Guess it's you and me, Mr. Unicorn," You murmur as you tug the plush into your arms, giving in easily to the exhaustion pulling on you.

The next day is busy enough at work. You're only working for the first two days this week, having taken the rest of the week off to focus on the wedding prep. Between tying up all of your loose ends at work and the mental to-do list you keep adding tasks to, the day passes with very little thought of Tetsurou. It's not until you're laying in your sofa bed that night after a movie and snacks that it starts to hit you.

You hug the unicorn plush close again, but you're very aware of the absence of your fiancé. You're so used to his arms around you at night, his nose pressed into the nape of your neck.

Maybe it's silly, but with all of the stress starting to weigh down on you, you find yourself missing the comfort of his presence much more than you'd anticipated. With a sigh, you roll onto your back and reach for your phone. Your thumbs only hover for a moment before you hit send.

I miss you

It isn't long before your screen lights up with a reply.

You literally saw me yesterday you weirdo

Is it bad that even that teasing sentence brings you some sort of strange comfort? You're just about to type a reply when another message comes through.

Which is why it's so ridiculous that I miss you too

You can't help the smile that steals across your face at that. For some reason, the knowledge that he's feeling the same things you're feeling lessens the ache a bit.

It's dumb

You feel confident in saying it, now that you have this thread of connection with him.

You said it, not me

Comes his cheeky reply, quickly followed with,

Mittens won't leave me alone. I think he thinks I murdered you and disposed of the body.

You almost chuckle aloud at that.

Poor guy, he misses me too 🥺 and honestly, his fears are valid

You curl up on your side, holding your phone close.

Uncalled for

And then

I'm about to fall sleep, so I'd better go. I'll see you later this week

You try your best to ignore the disappointment sinking in your gut.

Me too. Goodnight, I love you

His reply comes almost immediately.

I love you too. Night

It's enough to satiate you, anyway. On Friday, only four days away, you'll see him for the rehearsal. That's not really so far away. As you lay there clutching your phone, you can feel your eyes growing heavier.

The next day is just as crazy, as you give your coworkers instructions for your absence and make sure all of your projects have been submitted. After work, you go straight to dinner with your bridesmaids, and the whole evening is spent talking and laughing together.

By the time you make it back to the apartment, you should be so exhausted that you all asleep immediately. You definitely feel it, but from the moment you lay down, the hollow feeling slowly returns to your middle. You hesitate when the thought first occurs to you, but it seems reasonable enough. You'll feel better if you can just hear his voice for a few moments.

"Hey Baby," He answers after two rings.

"Did I wake you up?" You blurt out quickly, instantly feeling guilty and wishing you had just tried to fall asleep.

"Nah," He assures you, "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing's wrong," You sputter. "I just-"

"Missed me?" He finishes for you, and the teasing lilt in his voice is almost enough to make you hang upon him on the spot.

"Maybe," You respond petulantly instead, and he laughs. The sound of it, even through the phone, is enough to set you more at ease.

"Who knew you were so clingy," He muses. "Just can't get enough of me, huh?"

"Maybe I'll just hang up," You huff.

"Wait," He says a little too quickly, and you smile to yourself. Gotcha. "Mittens wants to say hi, too. You can let him know you're not dead." Suddenly, the phone line is filled with the rumble of your cat's purr.

"Hi baby boy," You croon into the phone, "Dad isn't being nasty to you, is he?"

"You're on speaker," Tetsurou warns as Mittens lets out a small meow, and you laugh. "Plus I'm not his dad," he reminds you as he always does.

"Sure, whatever you want to tell yourself," You laugh again. You're feeling so much lighter, in a good way. As your laughter dies down, you try to hold in a yawn.

"Sounds like you're ready to fall asleep. I know you've got to get up early tomorrow to meet the florist."

"Hm, yeah." You acknowledge begrudgingly.

"It'll be here before you know it," He says softly.

"I know." You hold the phone to your ear for a few moments in silence. "I can't wait."

"Me neither. I love you so much." You can tell he's getting tired because he's getting sappier.

"I love you too, Tetsu."

"Say it again," He says it so low that you almost don't catch it.

"I love you," You repeat. "Good night, Tetsu."

"Good night," He echoes. "Love you, Baby." Even after the line goes dead, you can still feel the smile on your face and the warmth in your middle. As you fall asleep, you set an ultimatum for yourself. For the next two days, you won't contact him at all, just like you'd intended. Piece of cake.

The next day, you hold to your promise. After a busy day spent running here and there, the sofa bed has never felt more comfortable. You resolutely set your phone face down on the end table and close your eyes tight. Tonight, you're not going to break. You're a strong, independent woman. You tell yourself that until the long day finally gets the better of you and you drift off to sleep.

Finally, it's Thursday. One day until the dress rehearsal and you see Tetsurou again. You're proud of yourself. Sure, you'd only made it one night without contacting him, but technically, you haven't seen each other at all. You're going to count that as a win.

You actually have some time to relax before bed, and you and your friend pull out all the stops. She's got an array of face masks, fancy lotions, and even a foot spa she'd pulled out from somewhere. You're just laying out the last of the snacks when your phone dings. It's a message from Tetsurou.

You didn't call yesterday

Very interesting.

Sorry, I didn't know we had an appointment

His reply comes almost immediately.

I'm outside. Come out for a minute?

It's all you can do not to laugh out loud. Still, he came all this way. You shouldn't let it be for nothing. You glance at your friend, mind working quickly to think of a valid reason you'd need to leave the apartment at this time of the evening.

"I'm going to get in the shower," She suddenly announces. You can't believe your luck. Your stint as her roommate proved that she is notorious for taking long showers. "Don't eat all of the Takis before I'm back or else."

"Would I do that?" You ask, hand splayed across your chest indignantly. She shoots you a glare and heads for the bathroom. The moment you hear the shower turn on, you slip on a pair of shoes and you're out the door.

You practically run into Tetsurou the moment you step outside. "Hi," he says sheepishly, with his familiar crooked smile. You launch yourself into his arms, and he immediately holds on tight.

"Hi," You breathe back, finally pulling back enough to look into his face again. "We failed," You say solemnly, before breaking into a grin.

"We did," He agrees, pressing a kiss to your lips. "Spectacularly."

"She's in the shower," You explain quickly, "So I shouldn't really stay too long."

"Alright," He says absently, thumbs tracing a pattern against your hips.

"You didn't bring Mittens, did you?" You crane your neck around him to check for the cat backpack you'd purchased on a whim a few years back.

"Don't be ridiculous," He says drily. You pout, and he kisses it away.

"I missed you," You sigh against his lips despite yourself, and you feel his lips curving into a smile.

"I missed you too." He admits. He pulls back again, and you silently drink him in. "We're getting married in two days," He says candidly.

"We are," You agree, grin threatening to burst off of your face.

"And I'll see you tomorrow at the dress rehearsal," He adds.

"Mmhmm," You nod. You glance at the time. "I should get back inside," You say reluctantly. In response, he pulls you in for one last kiss.

"Goodnight. I love you. So much."

"I love you too. So so much." Before he can one-up you, you pull away and turn back inside. "Goodnight!" You call over your shoulder.

The moment you step through the apartment door, you freeze. Your friend is standing there, arms crossed. "How was Tetsurou?" She asks coolly, a smile playing at the edges of her lips.

You open your mouth, then close it. "I was just getting some fresh air?" You finally say weakly.

"And I'm Albert Einstein." She replies, turning for the couch. "Come on," She pats the cushion next to her, beckoning you forward. "You two are disgusting," She adds as an afterthought. She's shaking her head, but she's smiling.

The next 48 hours are a whirlwind, but at the end of it you find yourself at your wedding reception, seated next to your husband. You'd made it here, and now you feel like you can finally draw a breath.

"Wait, so did you guys actually last the entire week without seeing each other?" Kenma suddenly asks skeptically, looking between the two of you. You glance at Tetsurou. Clearly, he hadn't shared the truth with his best man. Your maid of honor opens her mouth beside you, but you nudge her under the table with the sharp toe of your shoe. Since it is your wedding day, she stays silent.

"Sure did," Tetsurou says, grinning broadly as he slides his arm around your shoulders, brushing his fingers against your skin affectionately. "It was worth it," He adds, pressing a kiss to your temple. You lean into the press of his lips. Yes, it certainly was.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

not sure if I've already requested this so sorry if I have haha,

but how would the m6 react to a mc with sh scars? if it's not too heavy of a topic for you, if it is, I completely understand that :)

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC has SH scars

~ not too heavy at all, anon, I'd actually been hoping to write this at some point and your request gave me that excuse! to anyone else who relates a little too much: you're not alone, your pain is valid, and there is hope for you even when it doesn't feel like it - brainrot ~

CW for: references to scarring and self-harm. I can remember points in my life when this would have been triggering for me to read. If this would be triggering for you too, please prioritize your health.

Julian

He noticed early on that you'd get a strange look on your face when he mentioned being comfortable with experiencing pain, and he's been curious about why for some time

You generally found a way to hide them - whether with your clothes or in the low lighting - until after you defeated the Devil, which was when Julian was less distracted enough to notice more details

Like the unusual textures that appeared when your clothes shifted as you moved around your daily tasks, and how hellbent you seemed on immediately adjusting them

He waits to approach the subject until he knows you're both in a calm headspace, after the day is done as the two of you lounge in front of the fire with your dinner

He wants to hear your side of things, but the first thing he's going to ask is to let him look at them. He's a doctor, he loves you, and he wants to know the extent of the damage and how he can help your healing

Might cry a little, but hides it and refuses to make it about himself by pulling you into the biggest hug instead

It throws him into some serious self reflection, which leads to lots of late-night talks about self-destructive habits and how you two can best support each other in a way that's loving and not enabling

Will get a matching tattoo if you choose to cover them that way

Asra

The first time they saw them was right after your resurrection, and their heart sank right down into their feet

Here he felt like he'd just saved you, only to find that you'd not only woken up in a miserable state, but that the life you'd had before had been far more painful for you than he had been aware of

Which is when they became determined to give you such a good life and so much platonic love and support that the scars on your body would truly belong to a past life

The first time you asked him about why you had them, he said they were leftover from an old battle that you had fought very bravely. Going into any more detail only made your headaches worse

They did watch your behavior and mood closely, though, in case you started to fight that battle again. They never judged you for them or offered to smooth them over

After you defeated the Devil together, he told you the truth about them and what they meant, even though he didn't know the details of why you had them

It was also their chance to give you an apology for not noticing before you died, when they were still your friend and cared about you. They know it's not their fault, but the guilt was still there

He kisses them every morning and night

Nadia

She's heard vague stories from her family members about people who were in so much pain that they would self harm, but she'd never seen such a strong example in person

Which is why she initially assumed they were the result of some fierce battle or tragedy, and planned to ask you later

She first noticed them when she was fitting you for a new outfit, and saw how hesitant you were to let her look at them. Everything she's made for you since covers them completely

She finally asks about them several months into your relationship, expecting you to either not remember or to hear a moving story of conquering some fierce enemy or fighting for a loved one

To say that she doesn't expect your answer is an understatement. It surprises her so much that her only response is "oh," in an unusually small voice, before moving on to the next topic

She's able to process it the next time she's alone, when she's struck both by her awe at your capacity to fight something so dark and by her grief that you've been doing it without her all this time

Clears her next evening to have a private dinner with you, first so she can apologize for her initial response and second so she can invite you to tell her more about it and offer her support

Likes to dress you herself so you know you're not alone or unseen

Muriel

Knew exactly what they were as soon as he saw them, which was less than half a day into your travels South with Morga

And promptly refused to talk about it because he can relate to those dark impulses more than he'd like to and because he didn't see it as being any of his business. But he does start to watch you

He watches for any sign of pain, he watches how you fix your clothes, he watches how your gaze falls on any sharp object, because even if it isn't his business he cares more than he expects

He becomes less and less discreet about how closely he's observing you until you finally notice it one evening, how the firelight falls on your scars and how his eyes fixate on them

At this point the reciprocated staring is so awkward that he'll do anything to fix the tension, so he shuffles and mumbles something along the lines of "You can talk about it if you want to. I don't mind."

So you do, and he gets hit square in the chest with how much he's come to care about you over the course of the trip

He's especially frustrated because he empathizes so deeply, and since he doesn't know how to fix himself, he's worried he'll only mess you up further

In the end, he learns to apply the kindness he feels towards you to himself as well, and sees your scars as valid as he sees his own

Portia

She's still very embarrassed (and slightly ashamed) for how things went the first time she saw them

She'd noticed something peeking out from your clothes, and how you seemed focused on covering them, and falsely assumed that it was some cool magical tattoo

Which only piqued her curiosity. This has to be juicy, and she's determined to get a closer look. Which is why, as soon as you'd become friends, she took her first chance to snatch a look

And then froze. And then dropped you, and then burst into tears. How could this happen, MC? Why would you do this to yourself? It looks like it must have hurt so much -

It's unfortunate but you're going to have to comfort her first while she works her way through the five stages of grief. She loves you, and she's heartbroken and confused about why this would happen

She needs time to process how she feels about it before she can listen to you without having a meltdown. Her normal response to self-destruction is a fist to the gut (Ilya) and that wouldn't do

Ends up following your cues when it comes to how she talks to you about it. If it's in the past, it's in the past. If it's a current struggle, then she's your partner. She'll be right next to you

She does think your fighting spirit makes you badass, though

Lucio

He's not great at noticing details unless they directly correspond to physical strengths and weaknesses. Any kind of scarring from a wound is (from his experience) a totally normal thing to see

When he starts to notice how you cover yours or get weird about them being touched, he asks about it right away

You've got such cool scars, MC, why are you hiding them? You should show them off so everyone knows how battle-tested you are! Here, he'll show his off too! *cue him stripping off his shirt*

It's a little difficult to know how best to respond to this. You're each other's life partners by now, he should probably know the truth, but you don't know how to burst his bubble

You do end up telling him later, once you're settling into your inn for the night, and watching the realization and hurt dawn across his face is anything but easy

MC, why? You deserve the best, you are the best, you're his best, you're telling him that you treated someone like yourself this poorly when you were showing him so much forgiveness?

He's not trying to guilt you at all, but it comes close to having that effect. The only thing he can think to do is hug you really really tight and hope it convinces you that you deserve better

Still refers to them as your battle scars, because to him they are

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller x F!oc

Part One

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

wc: 2.9k

a/n: Thank you for checking out this story! This is by far one of my favorites that I've ever written and I am beyond ecstatic to finally be able to share it with you all. I will be uploading a new part every week, and let me know if you'd like to be tagged! Once again thank you so much!

"What do you think of all this?" My voice is unusually hoarse as I take in the images before me. There have been reports of some sickness going around, mainly in the bigger cities, far enough from here to make us feel safe, for now.

(use this link for geographical reference points)

Upbeat music sounds through the house, bright sunshine beaming through the open windows. The crisp breeze whips in every few seconds, blowing the sheer curtains and cooling the house. It all makes it seem more real that summer is finally here. I lightly bob my head to the beat, enjoying the first day of warmth and excited for our first cookout of the year. I hear a few of the guests in the back yard already, laughing and clinking bottles together.

I turn around and open the freezer door, grabbing the ice tray off the top shelf and breaking up the frozen water inside, so that I can dump the cubes into the glass pitcher sitting on the kitchen counter. The ice clings as it falls to the bottom of the pitcher, and I go to fill it with water to finish the lemonade. With another gust of wind, the smell of grilled burgers floats in, making me all too excited to get back out there.

The doorbell rings out and I quickly turn the water off so that the lemonade doesn't overflow into the sink. I set the pitcher off to the side and dry my hands on the towel laying on the counter. Quickly, I make my way to the door and open it, greeting the next arrivals with a wide smile on my face.

"Thank you guys for coming, please make yourselves at home! I think the burgers are just about done out back." I say and close the door behind them, grabbing a dish from my friend's full hands and placing it on the counter. Her daughter toddles through the house, mumbling about something that's apparently very important to her. I smile softly at the little girl and turn my attention to my friend, who I haven't seen in forever. Her husband quickly finds his way to the back yard with the other guests.

"Sorry we're late, someone did not want to wear shoes today." She breathily laughs, setting down a diaper bag as she watches her daughter walk around the house.

"I understand, shoes are a pain." I joke with her and open the fridge to grab a chilled bottle. I hand the wine cooler to her and she pops the cap, taking a sip. I look at my friend, who I notice looks tired and stressed, more than usual. There are dark circles under her eyes and her hair is haphazardly thrown up into a bun. Her appearance is out of character for her, she's typically always primped and dressed for the occasion.

"Tell me about it. I was half tempted to just let her come barefoot. How's Lucas?" She asks about my son, taking another sip. I turn my head to look out the back door, seeing my son being held by my husband.

"He's loving all the attention out there, that's for sure. How are things going, Lisa? I feel like I haven't seen you since last year." I inquire, casually grabbing the lemonade pitcher and setting it beside the veggie tray I took from her. She sighs,

"Things have been better. John has been working more hours lately. Which is fine, it's just that I feel like I never sleep anymore." She tries to joke, but I can sense the exhaustion in her. Her husband works as a physician at a local hospital, and has been on call for the past two weeks. I offer her a small smile and put a hand on her shoulder,

"You and little miss Amelia are welcome here anytime. Lucas would enjoy the company and I know you'd enjoy the rest. I mean it, I don't mind watching her." I tell her, knowing that she will likely never take me up on the offer. Lisa doesn't like to impose on people, though she wouldn't be imposing at all.

"I appreciate it Noelle, thank you." She nods gratefully. Amelia finds her way to the back door and puts her slobber-covered hands on the glass, mumbling nonsense but making it clear she wants out there with everyone else. I laugh at her silliness and balance the veggie tray in one hand and grab the lemonade in the other.

"I think Amelia wants to get out there. Feel free to just relax, we can watch over her. Enjoy yourself, mama." I say and make my way to the backdoor and expertly open it with my elbow. Amelia squeals and runs out onto the grass with the other kids.

Lisa goes to sit on the couch, taking another drink, and I close the door behind me. I set the veggie tray down on a foldable table where the other side dishes are and place the cold lemonade beside the other beverages. The burgers smell amazing and I can't help but glance over to the grill to see if they're done yet. To my disappointment, they're not ready, so I walk over to my husband Ryan, who has Lucas in his arms.

"Do you want me to take him?" I ask, knowing that even though Lucas is a small kid, he gets quite heavy after a while. Ryan nods and hands him off to me, kissing me on the forehead before he goes to grab a beer out of the cooler. Lucas lays his head on my shoulder and I can tell he's ready for his afternoon nap.

I go back in the house to find Lisa chilling on the couch, her drink empty in hand and her head resting back on the cushion with her eyes closed. Quietly, I make my way to Lucas' room and lay him down in bed. Of course, as soon as he's on the mattress he's starts to throw a fit, because he's so obviously not tired.

"Shhh, it's okay." I soothe him, running a hand through his short hair and tucking a light sheet around him while he curls his tiny little hand around my fingers. He always likes to be holding someone's hand as he falls asleep, I think it must be some sort of security thing for him. And thankfully, he's out in just a few minutes. Skillfully, I wiggle my hand from his grasp and close his door softly, hoping he'll sleep for at least an hour or two.

Lisa is now sitting up on the couch, her elbows resting on her knees as she leans forward, listening intensely to whatever is on. Something on the TV must have caught her attention.

I go to the fridge and grab a drink, wanting to indulge a little since Lucas is down for a nap. The words on the TV pique my interest, and I go to sit beside Lisa, who only glances at me out of the corner of her eye.

"Los Angeles is the latest city to be placed under Martial Law. The number of confirmed deaths has now passed two hundred. And according to a leaked report from the World Health Organization, recent vaccination attempts have failed." The reporter seems uptight and rigid as she speaks. Absentmindedly, I take another sip of my drink, feeling uneasy about what I'm hearing. The upbeat music from the yard starkly contrasts the severity of what's on the television.

The news broadcast switches to a helicopter view of Los Angeles and shows a temporary military camp being set up. Large armored trucks line the streets and soldiers instruct people where they need to go. There's smoke in the air from fires that have been set, and it looks like some foreign, war-torn country.

"What do you think of all this?" My voice is unusually hoarse as I take in the images before me. There have been reports of some sickness going around, mainly in the bigger cities, far enough from here to make us feel safe, for now. But seeing the devastation and panic of those in New York, Detroit, and now Los Angeles is making me more uneasy about the whole thing.

"I don't like it. John says we shouldn't worry about it. Whatever it is, they'll find a cure for it soon. He says he hasn't seen anything come through the hospital yet and that we're okay. But I don't know, I can't help but worry, you understand." Lisa's voice is soft, but serious. She tears her eyes away from the screen and looks to me as she finishes her sentence, and I nod my head.

"I understand. Ryan says the same thing. But we aren't that far from Detroit, really. I mean what, a few hours by car? I told him we should at least stock up on some canned goods, just in case." I say, knowing that we share the same anxiety about this mysterious sickness. The back door slides open quickly,

"Burgers are done!" Ryan's voice calls out into the house, snapping Lisa and I out of our contemplation. I clear my throat and take another drink before standing and offering Lisa my hand. She takes it and I help her up as well, and we both go outside, trying to forget what we just saw on the screen.

We join the others in the back yard and Lisa makes quick work to fix Amelia a plate. I urge others to get a plate before I do, feeling unnerved from the news report. After everyone goes through the line, I grab a plate as well, but can only bring myself to put some fruit on it, and that's just for show.

I join Ryan at the patio table and he's tucking into his burger with all the fixings. I take another drink and try my absolute best to act perfectly normal and unperturbed. Ryan swallows and looks between my plate and my face, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"Only fruit?" I nod my head, knowing it's out of my usual to not load up with a burger, chips, and some type of sweet.

"Just not feeling too well." I passively offer as an explanation and take a strawberry into my mouth. He takes another bite of his burger, keeping his eyes on me. I know he can see through my lie, but I know he won't push it in front of people. He puts a hand on my thigh and gives it a squeeze, and I place my hand on top of his.

I take another strawberry and look out into our back yard, seeing Amelia happily nibbling on a bun Lisa gave her. Another little kid sits beside Amelia, Ethan is his name, and he is content with his bowl of chips his mother gave him. Ethan's mother, Rebecca, met Lisa and I at a birthing education group a few years back and we all clicked together instantly. Rebecca's husband, Tim, fit right in with our husbands as well.

Others mill about the yard, associates of Ryan who I don't know very well, but they're friendly enough and I don't mind them. I've never been able to connect with them too well, seeing as there's a sizable age gap between me and the majority of them. Plus, they're all lawyers and I'm a florist, there's not much common ground between the two. Sometimes I wish I had more in common with Ryan's friends, but over time I've accepted that it's okay for us to have differences.

My eyes drift from the people to my flower beds, which are all manicured to perfection. Luckily, all the flowers are vibrant and full, adding more life to the yard it sometimes lacks in the colder months.

After a while, I go about collecting plates and cleaning up the food as the sun begins to disappear behind the horizon. Ryan is entertaining a newly energized Lucas as Lisa and I pack away the leftovers and hunt out the s'mores supplies. No Allen family cookout is complete without s'mores.

I turned the television off as soon as we started bringing things in, not being able to bear the words and images that were sure to be there. If I can just push those thoughts from my mind for another couple hours and make sure people enjoy the cookout, then I can worry about it for the rest of the night after they leave.

Lisa hands me a platter of leftover burgers to put in the fridge and breaks the silence,

"Your flowers are beautiful this year, I really like the tulips you have here." She compliments my fresh pink tulips on the counter. I had picked them this morning before everyone got here so they looked their best. I smile, appreciating the compliment.

"Thank you, I tried to pick the best ones. You can take those with you if you want. I have plenty." I say, motioning to the backyard. It's true, I have an abundance of flowers to choose from, and I want Lisa to have something nice for herself, she deserves it.

"Oh no, I couldn't. You worked hard on those." She dismisses with a wave of her hand, but I give her a stern look.

"Lisa, please take the flowers or I will make sure John takes them." I say, pushing the vase across the counter to her. She knows she's not going to win this argument and concedes, taking the vase in her hands.

"Thank you, Noelle." Her voice is quiet, and I give her a nod.

"Don't mention it. Now let's get these kids full of sugar before bed!" I laugh and hand her some of the s'mores ingredients to take out.

A few of the men had started the fire and have it at a nice height, it should last us long enough to get the s'mores made and for people to say their goodbyes for the night. I hand out the skewers and place the ingredients on the foldable tables, allowing people to help themselves.

Lucas waddles over to me with a marshmallow in his tiny hand, and I smile, knowing he wants me to toast it for him. I grab him in my arms and take his marshmallow, placing it on a skewer before sitting us on a chair close to the fire. Lucas is on my lap as I watch the marshmallow to ensure I don't burn it, but toast it perfectly for him. Lucas is kind of a marshmallow snob, he won't eat one that's been burnt or under-toasted, he only wants the golden-brown ones.

After rotating the marshmallow with patience, I think it's finally good enough for his standards. I grab it off the skewer and blow on it so that he doesn't burn his mouth on the hot sugar. His hands reach towards it, but I lean away to cool it off as much as possible. I can tell he's getting frustrated, and so as soon as I'm sure it's an acceptable temperature, I give it to him. He wastes no time in shoving it in his mouth, a wide, gummy smile on his face with tiny little teeth barely visible.

I watch him lovingly, enjoying seeing him so happy with something so simple. As Lucas finishes his marshmallow, some people begin filtering out for the night. I wave goodbye to them and take Lucas inside to clean him up before bed. His hands and face are sticky with marshmallow fluff, and the last thing I want is for him to touch everything in his reach and get everything coated in stickiness.

I set him up on the counter beside the sink and grab a fresh rag, wetting it lightly so I can get the gross off of him. Rebecca, Tim, and Ethan are the next ones to leave, and I wish them a safe drive home, and thank them once more for coming. Lisa, John, and Amelia are the last ones to leave, and I make sure Lisa takes the tulips with her despite her protests.

After Lucas is cleaned up and Ryan has tidied the back yard, I'm ready for bed. My eyelids are heavy with sleep, and I can't wait to get underneath my warm covers. Lucas fights his bedtime as per usual, but finally lays down for me after minutes of whining.

I close his door and turn off the main lights in the house and ensure the night lights are on, just in case Lucas gets up in the night and needs to get to our room. I rub my eyes as I enter my bedroom and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine. Ryan is already in bed, flipping through channels to find something.

I rush through my routine and get underneath the covers, sighing with relief as I feel my spine decompress from the day. Rolling over into Ryan's side, I rest my head on his shoulder and look at the television screen. Immediately, I'm displeased with what I see. A bold headline is front and center and it reads 'Death Toll Rises, When Will This End?'. Luckily the TV is on mute so I can't hear what the news reporter is saying.

"I think we need to stock up on things tomorrow. I don't like how this is looking." I say, standing my ground this time. Ryan can believe whatever he wants about this sickness, but I won't risk Lucas going without food or any necessity if things get bad.

"First thing in the morning we can go." Ryan's voice is raspy, and he turns the TV off, not bothering to watch anything else. He adjusts his position and pulls me into him, kissing me goodnight before he rolls over to turn off his bedside lamp.

I cuddle into his side, enjoying the safety I feel in his arms and close my eyes, ready to fall asleep. As I feel myself drifting off, I hear muffled sirens in the distance.

Part Two

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks For the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Two

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 13.7k

Release date: Mon. February 5, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: Now aware of Seokjin's secret, you try to take some of his...techniques into your next stream. But how well will they pay off?

Chapter Warnings: anxiety, discussion of boundaries and triggers, Seokjin explains what bdsm is supposed to mean to us watching at home, internet/cyberbullying dynamics, boss/employee power struggles, discussions of consent, peer pressure, mention of threesome, implied chubby/fat reader (it's vague enough to not adopt a specific size), mention of sex toys, swearing, sexual fantasies, m masturbation, damn Seokjin has a boner so many times in this sorry, size kink, y/n assumes Seokjin's sexuality, porn simulation games, 1 (one) reference to Vine (RIP), Dom Seokjin, kink negotiation, mention of choking and improper bdsm practices, mention of urethral sounding (but not actually happening)

a/n: Ahh hello! First of all, thank you to everyone who has read TFTS so far! It really warms my heart knowing how well received it's been, and your comments and messaged have meant so much. I really wanted to emphasize discussions of consent and boundaries in this chapter. I was struggling to write for a little bit, and then suddenly I saw this one gif of Jin on my feed and my brain jimmy neutron brain blasted my way to a 13k length chapter. Hopefully I've proofread well enough, but if you spot some serious errors please let me know. -h

On Saturday afternoon, Seokjin woke up for the first time in what felt like forever feeling rested. After checking the weather app on his phone constantly throughout the night, he received the alert that heavy snowfall was causing delays in plowing and public transit. He messaged the opening crew, encouraging them to also enjoy the lie-in and prepare for a delayed open. Instead of falling into the semi-sickening lovefest of couples peeling each other’s perilla leaves or trying to feed each other lunch, he could be spared until the evening. 

Which was good, because Seokjin was exhausted. His live last night was not planned, but after closing and apologizing to you about his gross mismanagement of power, he needed to get out the pent-up frustration that crumbled the bones in his body from pressure. 

Sure, it was the right thing to do to apologize, even though he knew he would never be able to look at that prep counter, your wide, glassy eyes, and swollen lips the same way again. But it was important to him. He could never become the kind of man he watched his boss be to him or his wife, forcing his way past someone’s boundaries to get what they wanted. 

Even years later, Seokjin was convinced that had he not shared information about Soon Yi that intrigued his boss, if he’d maybe kept his personal and professional lives separate, things maybe would have been different. And now that he was in the position of power where he was someone else’s boss, wasn’t it his duty to make sure that didn’t happen to you too?

Seokjin almost lost all his control with you yesterday. From the moment you came in with a tired, croaky voice that greeted him “hi” before the sun had even come up, he knew he would be struggling for the rest of the day. 

During multiple points of your training, he had the urge to touch you, which was nearly impossible not to do, since so much of the guidance you needed came from hand-over-hand instruction as he showed you the fluid motions of safe chopping. When his large hands covered yours, Seokjin became aware of how tiny you were to him. Maybe not in all the places, but your height, your smaller hands, they showed him how easily and perfectly you slotted into his body, like a puzzle piece he didn’t know he could ever feel matched to. 

Maybe Seokjin executed this desire to touch you a little too dramatically. When he saw your misplaced cutting knife, he let that excuse lead him head-first into white hot desire, scolding you, watching you squirm a little as you felt embarrassed for losing focus. And that seemed to unlock some feral need in him, to get you to squirm a little more, to touch you and feel the velveteen softness of your forearms as he pinned you against the prep table. 

The little gasp you’d let out sent the blood straight to his cock, and to avoid you seeing how easy and embarrassingly you could undo him–how quickly one singular sound from you would make Seokjin rock hard and panting and under your complete power–he reacted, clasped your wrists, used some set of excuses to get closer, let his arm skim across your cheek to grab a packet of whatever the hell was above you. And the way you didn’t resist, didn’t pull away from his grasp showed him how good you could be, how obedient you were as you turned around when told. 

He should’ve stopped there, but you were standing in front of him, smelling a little bit like coffee and a fruity shampoo you used, your bodies only mere inches from full on contact. And Seokjin wanted more of a reason to hold onto you, to see what ways he could rile you up, whether you were cognizant or not of how, well, submissive you were to him. 

Most of his income from streams came from scenarios where Seokjin played into a softer role, which translated into the role of a submissive pretty boy, and usually a bottom. But for the first time in years, a rich, satisfying wave of dominance rolled back into his body and he welcomed it.

Seokjin knew better, but he couldn’t help himself. The one bit of control he maintained was in his refusal to let go of your hands, even after you had mastered the motions of your knife, possibly even better than Seokjin himself could chop. Because if Seokjin declawed himself from you, his hands would absolutely wander. Up the sleeve of your exposed forearms and down the swell of your breasts and full hips. 

His cock ached thinking about how plush and soft your body would be under his hands, how he wouldn’t have to worry about breaking you. He could safely grope your sides and not feel like he would pinch your bones together, and that was important, because Seokjin liked to be rough.

When that carrot fell, you couldn’t shake Seokjin’s desperate hands off yours and you carried him with you as you curved your body toward the floor to pick up your mess. Seokjin was blessed and cursed with the brief moment he got to touch more of you than he ever had as your ass rocked back and ground gently into him. 

He’d moaned, though he tried to disguise it as a grunt or scoff, but the way your delicious ass attracted him right in between the line of your cheeks practically begged him to rut against you. 

Your reaction of shock, though, halted him as he remembered you two were in the kitchen of his family’s restaurant. He scrambled to cover his dick before it became even more obvious and humiliating. 

And then you fell, because Seokjin was an idiot and forgot he had been holding onto you. 

The sound of your head crashing into the metal ricocheted through his ears, and your pained moan sent him spiraling in panic. He didn’t think. Seokjin wasn’t the best at remaining calm during potential medical emergencies, instead of electing to assess your wellbeing and check-in with you, he just reacted, plucking you off the floor and onto the counter.

You can’t manage a restaurant without carrying heavy sacks of rice or flour, cartons of vegetables or gallons of oils and liquids into the space. That, plus the fact that Seokjin did go to the gym to keep his figure, ensured that when he had to pull you up from the floor, he could do so with ease. Which thanks to his awful, overly enthusiastic libido, was really locking in some potential size kink. If Seokjin could hoist you onto the cold prep counter without breaking a sweat, it meant he could also hoist you onto other things, like his cock. Could bounce you up and down and see how those delicious, large tits would follow his pace.

Fuck. 

This was when Seokjin realized even though he was deeply, deeply interested in these fantasies, his reality was different. Because too easily he had dipped into some innate submissive part of you and decided to play with it and tease you for it. Too easily, he has erased any boundary between professional and personal, and now you are walking around with a giant bruise on your forehead. He used his power to manipulate you, didn’t he? While the tiniest part of him argued back, suggesting it was purely mutual attraction and biology, that he shouldn’t apologize because he swore he saw something in your eyes that almost guaranteed you wanted him too, this is why Seokjin had to apologize. The “almost” of it all. He wasn’t sure, which meant the uncertainty was a risk and just because he wanted something to be true didn’t mean it was. 

By the end of the day, the intense proximity to you and the memory of your lips parting to suck his tongue into your mouth had become too much. Seokjin turned on an impromptu stream to wallow in his self pity and direct that dominant energy into something that was far less harmful and at least lucrative. 

Now, as the winter’s dull afternoon light glowed through the city, Seokjin checked his phone, seeing that the evening crew leader had arrived and informed him that everything was covered and they wouldn’t need the extra help. 

With that update, Seokjin’s entire evening just became available, which was a rare thing for him since he moved up in his job role. But because of this, he was unsure what to do to pass the time. He cooked himself dinner, cleaned, and organized the jars in his refrigerator, needing to keep his hands busy to distract himself from thinking about you. 

His apartment looking immaculate and there no longer being anything else to clean, he finally fired up his computer to play games. Maybe this would serve as a proper distraction. His new PC was set to come early next week after being delayed by the snow. Despite Seokjin’s financial success since his start as a streamer, money to him was still something he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

After Worldwide Handsome took their cut from last night’s fifteen grand in earnings, he would be walking away with about ten thousand dollars. He would, albeit quietly, pour around seven thousand of those dollars into the restaurant, where the mom-and-pop feel of the small shop was starting to show its age.

Last week, he’d called a repairman to give him a quote about fixing a broken coil on one of the griddles. After a quick inspection, he was informed most of the unit was corroding, and it was time to seriously consider a replacement. Between that, the new register he ordered, and the walk-in freezer that was coughing its last breath, probably as we speak, Seokjin spent nearly forty grand in the last month with repairs and replacements to keep the shop running another day. 

His parents had insisted they’d pay for the expenses, but after the first few discoveries he’d made of the DIY wiring his father had tried in earnest to configure, Seokjin stopped alerting them to the updates he was making, hoping that distance, age, and some fairly similar looking appliances would allow for these changes to go undetected when they returned. He had seen what this place made. He’d seen his paycheck. There was no way in hell his father could afford an $18 to 25,000 walk-in freezer on their operating budget. 

Overall, Seokjin made plenty of money with streaming, but beyond some investments and his nice apartment, as well as a savings account to ensure he wasn’t completely destitute, he lived much below his means. When he hit goals during his streaming, it did really feel like he was winning big. To buy himself a new PC was something he knew he worked for.  

Just as he was browsing the new skins in the game store, he heard the familiar chime and his heartrate picked up. 

You were live. 

He hesitated. “No,” he said out loud to himself, his voice croaking after hours of not speaking. “Don’t even think about it.” 

He knew if he looked at you right now, all the distractions, the cleaning, the dedication to keeping himself busy, would be for nothing. It would be painful to look at you–probably all cozy with your hair pulled messily away from your face, your glasses hanging off your nose instead of your usual contacts–and not think about how merely hours ago he had your heat rubbed up against him. 

If he really wanted to torture himself, he would also think about how the casual, disheveled look you sported could have been something he woke up to this morning if he’d tried a little harder, the loose t-shirt you probably wore rising up while you slept next to him, exposing the soft tummy he knew hid under it. Maybe even one of your nipples would slip out, hard from the chill of the cold winter air bleeding into his apartment. 

But Seokjin wouldn’t torture himself. He knew better. When he exited his game, he definitely didn’t launch his web browser and go to your channel that was on his Favorites tab. And he definitely didn’t cup himself through his sweats as he watched you appear before him. 

If the idea of you in casual wear could make him this hard, the view of you now, as you sat on stream with a tight, low-cut top that showed the curve of your breasts and their delicious, lickable valley between them, could easily turn every part of him into stone. You did your makeup today. Let your hair delicately frame your face. You looked like you were logging on to lure your viewers to come to you like a siren. Seokjin wanted you to devour him. 

His cock twitched and he groaned. He was such a pervert. But whoever this Y/N was, she looked like she was ready to play some games, and not the kind that Seokjin was used to seeing on stream. 

“Well, hello,” you purred. Was this really happening? Who the fuck had possessed the wide-eyed, awkward gamer he was used to watching?

“I thought, given that it’s so close to Valentine's Day, and because I missed the stream last night, I would make it up to you.” 

Seokjin froze. How had he not known you were supposed to stream yesterday? He would’ve never let you stay so late. He shot you an apologetic text,and when he looked up from his phone, he saw some of the comments flooding into your feed:

Mingisaysrelax: Um…am I on the right website? 😏💦

MountainSan88:😳 

PizzaBoy97: You look really pretty 😍

MizzVyne: Is this allowed? IS THIS ALLOWED?

Seokjin watched as your chat exploded in response to your new look, clips being taken by the hundreds when you leaned down to adjust your seat and the tops of your breasts jiggled. Your mods seemed to be on top of things though, because as soon as he saw raunchy or hateful comments, they were swiftly being taken down. 

“I’m not going to read my comment section right now, but I assume you’re all a little shocked by my appearance. I don’t know, I was feeling a bit inspired by another streamer I watched last night when I got home from work. He had some really good ideas on um…stuff, and no I’m not going to share who he is because some of you will absolutely cyber bully him for being associated with me and he deserves better than that.” 

He. A pang of bitterness surged through Seokjin. It was laughable, really, how he was jealous because you were watching other male streamers when you got home from work, completely oblivious to how on another site he was jerking his aching cock to his viewers thanks to how worked up you made him. 

“But yeah, I’m going to switch up the stream in the second half, if you want to stick around and see.”

This really piqued his interest, pressing his palm down onto his erection to try and relieve some of the pressure. 

You frowned at your screen as you launched your game, some first person shooter that would hold your attention so you wouldn’t have to talk.

You opened your mouth to add something, but you were immediately dropped into your game, setting your jaw as you focused on the controls in front of you, occasionally panicking, key smashing so loud that it drowned out your squeals when you were knocked over and over again and needed a revive. 

Seokjin assumed whatever teammate who kept reviving you must’ve been a subscriber who was stream sniping…or reverse stream sniping? Stream assisting and reviving as you struggled your way through the game. 

Something really stuck with him as you played. Whoever this “mentor” was must have been well versed in the knowledge that on any streaming platform, sex sells, especially for women. Your new look was drawing in quite the crowd. He wasn’t sure he’d seen you have this many subs, points, or viewers while streaming before. It was like a switch flipped. 

He felt a tiny flutter of something like pride swell into his chest. You were becoming more confident every day he knew you, from your knife skills to school teaching to now streaming. 

“Oh shittttttt,” you groaned into your mic, ripping Seokjin away from his soft reverie and back into full on, desperate wanting. Maybe you were toeing the community guidelines with this stream, but that groan sounded almost pornographic coming out of your mouth, and any chance Seokjin had at trying to be respectful was long gone. 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh you’re being a bad girl tonight I see,” he chuckled to himself.

Almost as if you heard him, you giggled back, biting your lip playfully. Fuck, what were you doing to him? Your chat seemed to be in a similar standing. 

As a result, One of the mods pinned an announcement to the top:

W0nW00: To maintain community guidelines and compliance, we are labeling this channel as 18+. We ask that you be respectful to Y/N and her moderators as we continue with this stream. If your account is set to under 18, you will be redirected in 2 minutes. 

Shit, all for a simple moan? 

You paused the game. “I’m going to go for a bio break. Be right back.” You set your break screen, and instead of the usual, cutesy graphic of a cherry blossom tree blowing in the wind that said “Spring Day Streams”, it was now a neon, vaporwave cityscape and said “Join Us For Spring Night Streams, An After Dark Experience”. 

Seokjin’s eyes wide, he finally released his cock from his sweats, and took himself in his hand. Oh, this was going to be good. 

Seokjin is a camboy.

That’s the only thought splitting through the headache you’ve had all morning. Is there such a thing as an orgasm hangover? Because if so, you’ve got one. If not, maybe you were concussed in the kitchen yesterday.

You’ve spent most of the day trying to clean up the mess of your apartment and frankly, your mental state. Seokjin spends his Friday nights Daddy domming his humble pool of viewers and making thousands of dollars doing so. To even think that sentence feels insane. 

And humiliating. Because attached to that sentence is the realization that Seokjin’s major success as a gay camboy means that he is absolutely not thinking about you the way you are of him, and the kiss you imposed on him at work was definitely not consensual after all, which when you think about it, is obvious based on how frantically he apologized and assigned himself at fault for what happened. He was trying in the most polite way to reject you. 

You’re an idiot. And despite all of it, the shame of your action isn’t what’s delivering the heavy punch; it’s the fact that your crush didn’t die the second you found out last night. If anything, you’ve been silently wallowing in your sadness since you woke up, your stupid heart not processing that there’s one significant reason for why you can’t have him. 

You try to trudge through the fog of it all, placing your newly cleaned toys back into their proper dust cases and compartments before returning them to the drawer next to your side table. You switch loads of laundry and drop the warm pile on your bed, grimacing at the idea of having to fold it all. 

You shouldn’t be disappointed. This is a stupid crush that was never meant to go this far. Not to this place where you aren’t just humiliated, but the loneliness that you often avoid feeling has been spilling through the cracks of your life all day. 

The laundry is the only thing that occupies one side of your bed. Never another body, his warmth, his weight existing as another living thing keeping your living thing company as you fold laundry or wash dishes. 

No, you shouldn’t have projected this crush or obsession or whatever you want to call it onto Seokjin, but in these months of conversation and blooming friendship, you’ve found your mind beginning to wander into the fantasy of not just sex, but safety and connection. He’s a man who has always treated you with the utmost respect, even now in how he has maintained a boundary that gently rejects you, even if it’s confusing. 

Before his promotion at the restaurant, there was collaboration that fostered your trust in him; your bodies started working around each other like dancers, fusing your movements with a natural flow. You’d seen some of that pop up throughout the day yesterday, which you couldn’t help but feel like delivered a bit of hope in your stomach. 

You know it’s useless to continue hoping that something will change. Maybe he’s bi, you’ve thought a few times since you went to bed. He did call everyone a good girl. But, don’t some guys call each other girls as some kind of kink? But even hoping for that still feels wrong in your gut. Instead of wishing he just so happens to like pussy, you should be redirecting yourself from the fact that it doesn’t even matter. He said so himself, he’s your boss. 

“Ugh,” you groan into your unfolded laundry. Why can’t anything ever be easy? 

You shove the clothing pile to one side of your bed as you lie down, staring up at the ceiling, your eyes following the soft pattern of cracks that have begun to appear through the paint. You already know that going back to work on Monday will be awful, not just because this crush won’t crush itself, but because you clearly now know more about Seokjin than he perhaps ever wanted you to know. Won’t it be awkward trying to talk to him? And if he asks why you’re being so weird, what will you even say?

Sorry Seokjin, I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore because I spent Friday cumming while watching you on your gay cam show as you stroked your huge dick and admittedly once I saw your face connected to your dick I had the best orgasm of my life that rendered me useless the next day.

Perfect. This won’t be absolute hell at all. 

Your stream alarm rings on your phone. You sigh. That’s right. You promised a makeup stream to your followers. 

How did Seokjin stream so confidently? Last night, the way he just exuded dominance and control, how he managed to get so much money from sitting there and making his chat do the work? It’s not only impressive but also inspiring. If you were able to have that distance from your chat, maybe things would be a bit easier, and the questions that were so personal and directed would fade into the background while ones of adoration and impersonal fantasies could take their place. 

And the money, god. If you had money like that, you wouldn’t have a stack of financial aid forms sitting on your dresser right now waiting for you to basically jump through hoops to ask nicely for a loan. 

The way he was able to be so different and make money off of it? That feels promising to you too. Because whoever Daddy Dom Seokjin is, he isn’t just walking around in the world being “on” all the time. You know him as someone whose ears flush with embarrassment the second one of the delivery guys tells him he made an error with the order and tries to diffuse the tension with some free snacks; who often hums game scores and whose laugh sounds like a squeaky windshield wiper swiping across dried glass. 

What if you could be more like that? 

Not Daddy Dom or Mommy Y/N, but more casual and detached? You could stop reading your chat and answering questions. Or if you did want to play into some of Seokjin’s sex appeal, you could dress slightly more suggestively or do your hair and makeup to exploit the male gaze’s money a bit, just like how Seokjin did. 

In this world of streaming, where everything feels like fractured versions of reality, parts of you being split among the pixels and delivered and digested into someone else’s home for their entertainment and pleasure, it’s hard for you to ever feel like you can have some close community with your followers. Not like Wonwoo does with his. Because of your start and how people perceive you now, there just doesn’t seem to be a way for you to have intimacy. Even if you tried, your chat flies by so quickly now that unless it’s a notification from a mod, any usernames and personal anecdotes are lost before you can even know who’s who. 

You think about it for a bit. It can’t hurt to try, right? It’s not like you being a little less reserved would automatically launch you into a career in porn. And if it will help bring a little more income in, lessen the blow a tiny bit, you can’t really see why it would make sense to keep doing things this way when you are this miserable by the idea of it. 

Spring Day Streams holds a standard image that is pink and soft, and you know some people love watching you because you’re hitting some fantasy they have. The woman who looks like an angel but swears like a sailor and as stereotypes often assume, fucks like a demon. 

What could “fuck like a demon” look like on an often all ages game streaming platform, though? Well, not all ages. Some streams are only accessible to registered users over the age of 18. Usually the age filter is there because the game is super graphic, or the streamer is a sex educator or swears so much the algorithm has started penalizing them. A few times though, you’ve seen some streamers playing games that are so raunchy they’re basically porn. And porn versions of those games exist, but to keep some of them streamer-friendly, they also sell versions that don’t have uncensored anime girls receiving creampies. That would definitely maintain the brand without going too far, right? 

You open your phone, typing in some of the titles of games, mostly dating simulators you’ve seen other streamers play before, and then you stumble across one called MiCamStudio, a puzzle game with the plot where you’re the manager of a camgirl enterprise and your goal is to become the most successful, richest entrepreneur while keeping your girls happy. 

You laugh. It feels a bit on the nose, but a fun way to shake things up in an after-dark concept. And it’s not too expensive, which means if this entire plan bombs, you won’t have invested much into it. Fine, you’ll do it. 

Wonwoo responds right away after you shoot a quick message with your idea to your mods on discord to help them prepare. 

On it. 

With a deep breath, you start to get ready. 

As you brace yourself to come back from your short bio break and announcement, your heart is hammering in your ears. What if everyone left? What if things get weird or gross or you think you’re being kind of sexy and cute but are really just being an idiot? 

Suddenly, this entire idea seems so stupid. What if your mom decides this is finally the time she wants to watch you stream? She hasn’t ever had the interest to, but what if she finally thinks to herself on a random Saturday night in February, “Wow, I sure do crave watching some video game streams! Say, I know my daughter Y/N streams. I should check it out!” or worse, what if someone she knows sends one of the clips or a screenshot of you with your tits practically out? 

Your anxiety is starting to win in this battle, and as you pace back and forth in front of your computer, shaking your clammy hands and trying to remember how to breathe, you see the number of viewers has dropped since the stream moved from all ages to 18+. Which means that you can now read your chat again. 

The comments are actually really supportive. Among them are some of your mods cheering you on, but one username anchors you back into your chair as you watch the notification dance across the screen. 

JokeJinSeokjin has subscribed for 3x months!

Seokjin. Seokjin is live and watching you. Which you expect to be the thing that will throw you over the edge. Seokjin, your boss. Your kind of friend. Your crush. The man who you are trying to emulate in this attempt to be sexy and earn more money and confidence. 

Surprisingly, a warm glow of comfort settles in you stomach instead. Because while maybe in all of this mess there’s plenty to be anxious about, you feel a part of you that’s determined to make him proud, to show him in this rejection what he’s missing out on. You take a deep breath to steady yourself as you hit the button to come back. 

“Ah, hello! I mean-um, hello,” you catch the nervousness pouring out of your shaky voice and clear your throat, trying to sound more composed. 

“I wanted to try something new today. Well, tonight. Welcome to Spring Night Streams, where I’ll be playing some not safe for work in more of a raunchy way type of games. Because as we know if there’s blood and guts and horror, it’s all ages! But boobs, those are a no no!”

You shakily laugh and suck your lip into your teeth. The taste of your lipstick laths over your tongue and you try not to think about how messy you just made it look. Or how you might now have lipstick on your teeth to really add an effect of clownery to your poor jokes. 

“I’m going to play this game? It came out a few years ago, but it’s a puzzle game called MiCamStudio. Maybe some of you have played it. But uh, yeah if you don’t like things like that I can always um…well I’ll just try it and see…” you trail off and nervously fidget with your controls as you open the game. 

Whatever you were expecting out of a dating simulator type game where you were in charge of cam girls, it wasn’t this. When you open the menu to start a new game, the animation that loads after you click “Start Streaming” is dozens of bra-clad boobs bouncing across the screen as it transitions you to the story line menu. 

Jesus Christ. Heat floods your cheeks. This somehow feels worse than the time your earbuds died and you didn’t notice that the audiobook of a very spicy holiday romance you were listening to wasn’t coming through them, but your phone. On the bus. And to make matters worse, you were at a part where the narrator was very generously providing sound effects and moans for the main character as she participated in an orgy with triple penetration. Yikes. 

You begin the walk-through of the storyline, greeted by Candy, a pink haired, busty camgirl who is looking to expand her horizons in the business. As you tap through the prompts, Candy starts to become less dressed, abandoning her already tiny skirt and crop top combo for a barely-there set of lingerie that covers just her nipples and vagina. 

“I need your help!” Candy pouts, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I need 400 new fans for my business or else I’ll be out of work! Quick, use this magic wand as you solve puzzles to help me get closer to my goal!” 

The wand is, of course, a vibrator. When you play through the first level tutorial and are prompted to use the wand, it vibrates the blocks, shifting them into new positions on the screen to match colors together. If you get enough combos, she has a giant orgasm, which increases her fans so you can pass to the next level. 

As you work through some of the first few levels, you notice that your view count has recovered somewhat from earlier, though the comments are kind of off-putting. Not because people are being sexually inappropriate, but because they’re mad you’re not interacting with them. 

NGL I thought this was going to be more fun and naughty. 

Yeah now she’s not even talking to us at all. 

I miss when she was bad at games and it was at least interesting. 

Someone come get me if she starts moaning again like she did earlier. 

Fuck. You are fucking this up. And your viewers are right, you haven’t been talking to them. Or really doing anything but playing the game and trying not to wince from embarrassment every time Candy moans as you make her a star. 

There’s got to be something you can do. You think about Seokjin again, who you’re not sure is still watching, but you hope some of that confident edge he had last night starts to come over you, too. What was it that he did to keep everyone engaged? 

He gave them incentive. A goal. He didn’t have to say much to them but tell them what to do and they happily did it. And that also took the pressure off of him to keep talking. 

With a deep breath, you test the waters. “Oh, you wanted more fun and naughty? Well, you didn’t really work for it did you?” 

You hate the words as they come from your mouth, but they have an immediate result. 

Loyal2You tipped 1600 points. What do you need us to do to earn it?

Your face burns hot, and you sip some water to try and cool yourself, playing it off as nonchalance rather than anxiety. You feel your stomach threatening to lurch into your throat as you force out the next sentence.  

“Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe you need to show me what I need,” you smirk. You really don’t know. Money? Subs? People not questioning you? This to be over?

LongJohn69 gifted 10 subs. Maybe this will help? 😉

“Well, it’s a start. Thanks for the sub,” you giggle, forcing yourself to relax into your chair. 

“Hmm, what can I give you all as a reward? I feel like I could really use some cute new clothes that I can wear for you next stream if you help me?” 

Your voice is softened and the pitch is a bit higher. Maybe Candy’s baby voice is having an impact on you from the game, because your normal, even paced tone is taking a turn. Is this the persona you’ve been trying to find? 

But you need this money. School, your future. You can’t just keep living the way you have been. 

7DaysAWeek tipped 10,000 points. Please, say “thank you 7 days” in that adorable whiny voice, baby. I’ll double tip if you do.

You freeze. 20,000 points is $200. All for you to say something so simple and stupid? 

God, but it doesn’t feel right to do it. You could ignore it, you think. And walk away with $100 before your commission rate is taken out. Which will end up being nothing, you realize.

“Oh, hmm.” You pause and then just do it. “Okay. Thank you 7 Days for the points. I really appreciate it.” You drum up the dramatics, eliciting some horrible, embarrassing baby voice that makes your vowels stringy and weak. 

Yuck. More requests pour in, people eager to get you to recite some innocent seeming phrases that you know are fodder for their spank bank. 

You see a tiny notification flash in the bottom right corner: a private message from Wonwoo. 

Y/N, you could get into deep shit if you aren’t careful. This could potentially violate your terms of service. 

You frown at the message but nod to let him know you read it. 

“Okay, well, I think it’s time we get back to the game!” You awkwardly divert your attention back to the screen, letting Candy’s moans fill the silence as you ignore the new requests and subs for the rest of your stream, too humiliated to think about what they could be saying.

After you end your stream, you feel the damn of tears that was welling your eyes for the last half hour spill. 

What a fucking disaster. What started as a hopeful night turned out to be one of your most streamed yet somehow also least successful broadcasts. The rush of viewers at the start provided you with a great boost, but after you didn’t engage again with the requests, your views, subs, and points plummeted, leaving you with a very slim payout for the day. This wouldn’t be much of anything for your bills once commission is taken. 

You don’t know how people do this. You feel like absolutely dog shit, and you even wrapped early, pretending that you were sick. But maybe you also aren’t really pretending, your stomach feels knotted and sour. 

Something about that felt wrong, but you don’t really understand why. It’s not like you’re prudish or fear sex. On any given day those kinds of requests stack up by the hundreds. But maybe it’s because tonight you finally peeled back the dismissive layer and let them in that has you feeling vulnerable and honestly, a little dirty. 

You wipe some stray tears from your eyes, stretching across the desk to grab your phone and pull it off of do not disturb mode. You see a few texts from Seokjin that he sent while you were streaming. 

Seokjin (8:17PM): Hey! I didn’t know you were supposed to stream yesterday. I would have let you leave early if I’d known.😞

Seokjin (9:15PM): Hey, are you okay? You look really uncomfortable. I know you’re playing and won’t see this until after you’re done but I wanted to check. 

Seokjin (9:47PM): Y/N, please don’t feed into these requests if it’s not what you want. 

Seokjin (10:02PM): Call me. The second you get this. Urgent.

You read the last text, which was sent twenty minutes ago. Shit, did something happen to the restaurant? 

“Y/N,” Seokjin says after one ring, his voice strained. 

“Um, hi Seokjin. I’m just calling you back because you said it’s urgent! Is everything okay with the restaurant? Did the snow knock power out or something? If you need me to come in tomorrow too I can help with stuff.”

“What?” Seokjin pauses for a second, his exasperation now turned to confusion. “No, Y/N. Everything with the restaurant is fine.”

“Oh. Then why did you call?” you ask. 

“Well, if you saw all my texts then you know I was watching your stream. And I just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay after that? Near the end you looked pretty upset.”

The warmth in your stomach you felt when you first heard his voice is gone, replaced by a sharp, gritty unease.

“Oh. Um, yeah I’m…fine,” but the tightness in your throat betrays you and a tiny sob escapes as the tears begin falling again. 

Seokjin doesn’t say anything as you sniffle into your phone, scrubbing the dribble away from your nose and cheeks with your sleeve. 

“Hey,” he says as your cries become softer. “Do you want to get out of the house for a bit?”

“It’s kind of late, isn’t it,” you say weakly. 

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want to get out of the house for a bit?” He repeats. 

Do you? Part of you is exhausted, tempted to just go right to bed. But you know if you lie down right now in the rest of that unfolded pile of laundry you might never emerge. 

“Ok,” you whisper into the receiver. 

“I’ll come get you,” Seokjin says. “Dress warm. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

When you were little, your parents took you on a road trip to get away from the city. You sat in the backseat, kicking your father’s chair grumpily on the first day, tired from waking up early and having to be stuffed into the car with the mountain of snacks, toys, clothes, and camping gear you had shoved in beside you. Your father was patient for the first hour of your kicks, but before long the steady thump thump thump on his lower back was becoming a strong annoyance as he navigated further away from home. 

“Y/N,” your father had sharply warned once he’d had enough. “Keep it up, and I’ll take your feet off and put them into my pockets.” 

While in retrospect the threat is silly and impossible, at the time, your five-year-old self was struck with horror as you imagined him sawing your feet off like the patients who were out in the snow for too long in that medical TV show you saw at your grandparents’ house once.

You’d tucked your feet underneath you until you were at a rest stop, where picnic tables and a small garden scape awaited you, filled with native wildflowers and lazy, fat bees that hovered from flower to flower. 

Your mother smoothed your hair with her hand, guiding you through the garden as your father bought your lunches from inside the building. 

“He didn’t mean it,” she’d said softly, feathering the tips of your hair across your cheek. Goosebumps prickled along your arms and you shivered, even though the sun was heavy and hot on top of you that day. “No one will take your feet from you.” 

You’d hugged her tightly then, still unsure as to why someone would try to take your feet from you. Your tapping in the car was mostly to keep you from feeling like you were going to be sick, but back then you didn’t really have the words to express yourself. 

When your father returned, he wordlessly placed your meal in front of you, including a large, fudgy cookie for dessert. Your father had always been proud, and even then when he didn’t apologize to you and promise he wouldn’t saw off your feet, being given a dessert was as good as any apology. 

He smiled when you licked the smudged chocolate off your fingers, eventually tutting impatiently so your mother would take you to the bathroom to wash up. Afterwards, you found him looking at a map on the building’s outside wall, with a bright cherry red You Are Here sticker signifying where in this confusing picture you were supposed to be. 

“There’s an observation point a few stops away from here. It’s supposed to be a really nice view over a valley. Y/N, do you want to be our navigator for those and help me decide when we should stop to look?” 

Laced in there was his apology. An opportunity at redemption, connection. You’d nodded instantly and scrambled back into the car, no longer upset about having to share your space in the backseat with all the cargo, ready to take on your role as your father’s co-pilot. 

You visited every observation point along that freeway that trip, all the way from the rest stop to the campground in some rural village. Some of the spots were lackluster, now overgrown and showing a view of a wall of trees and bushes and not some regal cavern or farmland below. But there were also the ones that, had you never insisted on visiting, you would have never seen half as much of the flora and fauna you’d expected to see on your camping trip. And it was the one major trip your family had ever had that made you all feel like a collective unit, ready to fight against the forces of grumpiness or foot-sawers together.

From that point on, whenever you saw the sign marker, you couldn’t help but feel a smile bloom on your face, which is why at this moment you are sitting next to Seokjin in his car, bundled up and stupidly beaming at him as he mirrors a happy but confused smirk back at you.

When he’d picked you up, Seokjin didn’t say much, just started driving north, through your neighborhood and into the rolling hills outside of the city. While this morning’s snow still clings to the trees and rooftops of some hillside buildings, surprisingly, the plows have done a good job of ensuring the road is safe and salted. You can feel the tense knots in your shoulders starting to lessen a little just from the feeling of being somewhere else for a while.

As you weave up the mountain side, toward the observation point, you gasp. 

“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?’ His eyes bulge from his head. 

“It’s just that, I love observation points,” you say sheepishly, not sure if you should divulge your entire story. 

Seokjin nods, thoughtful. “I like to come up here sometimes when I’ve had a really bad day. Just need to clear my head. Seemed like you needed to do that too.” The car curves along the bend, some of the wind fluttering clods of snow from the trees and onto the road. 

“Yeah, I do…” You trail off, letting him take you higher into the mountain before pulling into the observation point. This one has some small cafés and despite the late hour and snowfall, there are still quite a few cars parked in the lot, some sets of families and couples strolling around with warm drinks and peering out onto the twinkling, snow-covered city below. 

“How’s your head,” he asks gently, and it takes you a minute to remember what he’s referring to. You touch the make-up covered bruise and shrug.

 “Eh, it’s not so bad.” Truly, as the day wears on, you are feeling a bit tender, but the swelling has gone down, and your worry has gone with it. 

Seokjin opens your door for you, ever the gentleman, and you try to fight off the harsh tug in your chest that likens this behavior to a date. 

The two of you head over toward one of the lookout points, leaning against the rail posts. You take in the rolling hills below, how soft and plush the city looks now, almost like it could never be a place where you feel sadness or loneliness. You sigh. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Seokjin begins gently, “but I was wondering what happened during your stream tonight.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you assure him. 

Maybe this conversation would feel more uncomfortable if you didn’t already feel so awful. You are just trying to feel a little bit better about this whole ordeal. Trying to find in you some nugget of comfort to ensure a more stable future. And hell, Seokjin had made it seem so easy. But now, you are humiliated. You aren’t sure how you are going to go live again and go back to how things were before when the internet is probably making a giant laughing stock of you, or fetishizing you. You’re not sure which one is worse. 

“So, I know when we used to be, um, friends, I had mentioned to you that streaming is something I fell into. And as you also know from working with me, I don’t have the best social skills. Or I can, maybe, I don’t know. Anyway, I haven’t been liking it that much, really. Mostly because people in the chat always ask really personal questions about me and it feels weird. Like they’re real people but they can’t be real, to me. Does that make sense?”

He nods once, urging you to continue. 

“Right, so, in all of this, I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it more fun for me. And last night I saw you-YouTuber. I saw this YouTube streamer and on his stream he just seemed so cool, and smart. And he was able to both stay engaged without telling everyone everything and had distance. But he also was kind of domin-strong, he was just really good at telling people to meet goals and incentives. And it worked, they did it. I thought, maybe this could help me be better at this so I don’t hate it so much. I could make some persona, do something different that helps me better enjoy it or make more money. I don’t know. It seems stupid now when I think about it.”

“It’s not stupid, Y/N,” Seokjin says, turning to you. Your eyes flit to his face. His nose is pinkish from the cold, and his broad shoulders are tightly bound up to his ears to avoid the chill from spreading. 

“Of course you should like streaming, but if you don’t, if this isn’t the formula that works for you, then maybe you should try something different to help you.”

“How do you do it?” you ask, realizing too late what you are saying. 

Seokjin freezes. “Do what?”

“Um, how do you maintain confidence all the time? Like at work and stuff.”

Seokjin scoffs. “I don’t. You know that. Weren’t you just with me last week when I was bowing and spluttering like an idiot to Mrs. Yoon because that one repair man backed his car over her potted azalea? I was anything but confident then.” 

You fight a soft smile. Seokjin had been trying to scoop the twiggy, out of season bush into a bucket to salvage it before offering to replace it. Mrs. Yoon however, was having none of it, chirping on about how that plant had been germinated from her ancestors’ hillside home generations ago, and despite her choosing to carelessly plop it into a busy alleyway, she was sure there was no replacement that could soothe her aching heart. Seokjin handed her a wad of cash, and a gift certificate to the restaurant in an act of good faith. That seemed to shut her up. 

“You know what I mean,” you nudge. “You have an ability to talk to people though. Even Mrs. Yoon can’t say no to your mother’s bossam recipe when you charm her like that.” 

“First of all, no one can say no to my mother’s bossam recipe, regardless if I’m there to grovel or not. Secondly, you’re charming too, Y/N.”

You chortle at this. You? Charming? “Ha, I wish. But really, Seokjin. Half of that stream was an awkward setup and I thought I was going to puke. And not because of how I was dressed or anything like that. It’s so weird. I don’t really care about if people make comments like that about me because they’re impersonal. But knowing that I am sitting there, and everyone has some expectation of how I’m going to perform for them, it makes me feel awful.” 

“Tell me about it,” you hear him mutter, but he then recovers. “It sounds like that crossed one of your boundaries, then. Just because some explicit stuff doesn’t bother you, doesn’t mean that nothing ever will. And it doesn’t have to make sense. You can not care if strangers are talking about you sexually but care if you’re engaging with them and using sexual innuendos to do so.” 

Part of you is tempted to engage with the comment, to press him to explain and pretend that you have no idea what he’s speaking in regard to. But what good would that do here? Please Seokjin, can you share with me how being a gay sex cammer, which I absolutely already know about after watching you and masturbating to you, has impacted your life? 

God, how mortifying it would be for you. 

Instead, you let the comment go, cutting him enough slack so he can assume you didn’t hear him. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Seokjin adds. You shoot him a look. 

“I don’t really have much of a choice at this point! No offense, but it’s not like I’m making bank at the restaurant, and I already have chosen to withdraw from this term because of billing issues and–” 

“You’re withdrawing from school? Y/N!” He yells,  and you feel a heat of shame flood your cheeks as you see some scattered people shift their attention toward you. 

Now you were both embarrassed and pissed. How dare he scold you?

“Not from school, just the term!” you yell back. You’d made the choice in your spiral this evening, in between bio breaks. It was haunting you as you stared back at the packet of financial aid papers and billings notices. Streaming, you’ve now seen, is such a hit or miss game. And you truly can’t maintain the expenses that can cut into your work hours. Especially if you need to get a different job that isn’t streaming or working at the restaurant. 

“Is..is that where Spring Night Streams is coming from?” he asks, face flushed with embarrassment at his outburst. Your anger dulls.

“Partially. This felt like some way to sustain myself without it draining me. I thought maybe if I look pretty, people won’t just come and try to either ask me super personal things I don’t want to share, or they’ll just feed into basically the illusion of sex and pay me that way. And I can continue to play games and suck at them or be good at them, but the original reason behind why they came to my stream could be replaced with a different person, someone who isn’t so closely trying to dig into me.

“But, then I fumbled the bag, and you saw it. The viewer count was fluctuating so bad, and the second I interacted with that one comment, suddenly I was toeing the line for TOS and could easily have jeopardized my entire branding and be permanently banned from the website for sexual activity. Tonight was one of the lowest payouts I’ve made since I started. And now I know too, this could all just as easily go away if I’m not being…I don’t know. Compliant.” 

Seokjin makes a dissatisfied grunt, his breath coming out in a white puff. Now past eleven, most of the couples and families have dispersed, and the cute café that had advertised decadent looking hot chocolates is closed. The only thing remaining open is the tiny convenient store. 

You try to suppress a shiver but fail. 

“Come on,” he says, guiding you away from the railing and toward the store. 

Inside, the shopkeeper doesn’t even flinch or look away from his phone, which is streaming some sports match in Spanish. 

Seokjin places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you over to the drinks section, gesturing for you to select something from the warm options. 

“I wouldn’t recommend anything pre-made,” he warns, his voice low. “That stuff has probably been here since this morning.” He helps himself to a tea packet and the hot water dispenser. 

You browse a little and find a packet of hot chocolate. While it may not be the fancy, marshmallow delight pink drink that the café had advertised in their window, this will do just fine. 

By the time you’ve gotten your drink mixed together, Seokjin is waiting for you at the counter, a selection of different snacks piled high and a gentle smile on his face despite how bothered and grumpy the shop worker is toward him, practically smashing the food into a bag and muttering a total. 

You hadn’t given yourself a chance to really look at him before, but as he stands before you, you can finally take in how incredible he looks. While he’s wearing some gray joggers underneath, he’s elected for a long black puffer coat and green knit sweater and somehow looks so put together, so…boyfriend. 

Your heart flutters a bit and you try to tamp it down. This isn’t a date, you remind yourself, Get a hold of yourself Y/N. 

As you head back out into the chilly air, you both settle into a table outside of the convenience store, and Seokjin pulls the snacks out of the bag, all of which are your favorites. 

“You remembered?” you ask, a little stunned that he would commit all your tiny convenience store runs to memory over the months you’ve worked together and would split packets of sweet potato puffs and tiny, sweet cakes. He shrugs. 

“Morale is low. You need the boost. Now pass me some of those chips, I’m starving.” 

Your stomach growls in agreement, and you pop open the bag, nibbling away quietly. 

“You don’t need to people please to be a good streamer,” Seokjin says finally, rinsing his mouth with his tea. You chew your bottom nervously but wait for him to continue. “There’s tons of people on the internet who do streaming for all kinds of uh, stuff. And they make a ton of money without compromising their values to do so. Maybe instead of focusing on what you think people want in a stream, do what you want instead.” 

You sigh. “See, that sounds great and all, but when I tried that today, people got mad and left. Did you see all the donations trying to get me to say things or do stuff after that first one?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, taking a big bite of a chocolate cake thing and chewing diligently. “Welrr,” he begins, his mouth stuffed full, “I guesh you have to undershtand dat peepo on dee internet will always chewz sex first to get what dey wan.” He swallows. “And if that doesn’t work because someone sets a boundary, fuck them.” He pauses. “Not literally!” A blush creeps up his neck. 

You laugh. “I thought you limited your swearing to mostly angry kitchen interactions,” you say, and sip the watery hot chocolate. You wince. 

“You chose wrong with that hot chocolate. I’ll make it up to you next time.” Next time. Your stomach leaps. 

“But you don’t see it because I’m trying to maintain a professional air most of the time. But I say shit, piss, cock and fuck pretty regularly.” Like when you’re camming, you mentally note. 

“Yeah, so, speaking of that. And boundaries. This isn’t really the most professional boss-employee relationship happening right now.” You gesture around you. You didn’t want to say it, but you know it needs to be addressed. Seokjin and you really need to figure out a new set of rules, especially now you know what he does after dark, and he’s watching your streams, too. 

He pauses and sighs. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Look Y/N, I do want to talk about that. And we can address it. But before we do, I want to finish talking to you about what happened earlier today. Can we do a brief boss-employee dynamic halt for the rest of the time we’re up here? I want to talk to you as a friend right now, which we once were, even if it was for a short time. Will you let me do that?” 

You look up at him, and he’s gazing back with intensity, and also something that looks almost like desperation. 

“Okay,” you say. “For the rest of the time we’re out of the city. We are just two people. Friends. Not boss. Not an employee. Just us.” 

He smiles at that. “Yeah, just us.” 

Seokjin tried to not kick himself in his own ass for doing what he was doing now. Bringing you up here, to his safe place, was far too intimate of a decision. But when he’d watched the rest of your stream, watched you do stuff that– while he couldn’t be absolutely sure but he could assume– tested your boundaries and comfort, he knew he couldn’t just let you spiral by yourself. 

He’d been there before. During a show earlier in his cam career, Seokjin was once asked to try a more extreme kink on his stream which involved a thin metal rod that he would push into his urethra for pleasure. 

He’d agreed to try it before he’d even looked it up, and even when purchasing the equipment, he’d felt really queasy and knew he would hate it. But he’d promised, which he now understood was a fake law people set for themselves to push them past their limits. On the stream where he tested it out, he started shaking and crying, stopping before he could even open the package with the rods in it and ended his stream early. 

From then on, he had spent more time learning about kinks and BDSM. It was much more psychological and technical than he’d realized, with precise and careful movements, components of care, and more thoughtfulness than he’d ever really learned from porn or the internet. 

While he and Soon Yi had been exploratory in their sex life, it wasn’t like they’d ever done proper research when they were together. Looking at things now, he felt a little sickened knowing she could have gotten seriously hurt the times he choked her, not knowing the right placement of hands or pressure to make sure he didn’t cause permanent damage. 

Seokjin then reassessed his boundaries. He never wanted to position himself on his streams where he would succumb to pressure for money and compromise his own safety or desire. This was supposed to be fun.

The main tenets of BDSM are safe, sane, and consensual, which is hard to define on the internet. When something is leaked or found by the wrong party, it can especially compromise consent. With a permanent imprint of something existing once agreed upon, at any point someone’s right to withdraw consent can be invalidated simply because there’s a paper trail. And if that happened, then safety and sanity were sure to be called into question too.

Which is why Seokjin couldn’t stay silent after he saw you drawing breath after shaky breath after the first exchange with that follower. The instant regret that bloomed on your face as you so easily traded your comfort to make money, he never wanted you to feel that or experience it again. 

Which is why you now sat before him, the residual makeup from your stream still there but smeared, a thin looking peacoat doing a lot of work to protect you from the elements. This is why he said dress warm. Why were you wearing a glorified blazer in this weather?

He knew his time was limited with you, and that yes, he was already compromising this boundary that he’d set. But boundaries could be redrawn, and in this moment, he didn’t want the only thing protecting you right now to be that peacoat. He needed to protect you too. 

Granted, you probably were questioning his qualifications in this, and for a brief moment he considered telling you, but he quickly dismissed the idea when he remembered the video of him cumming and saying your name existed on his page if you’d ever gotten curious. Behind a paywall, sure, but it was there. 

No, for now, it was Seokjin and Y/N, friends. Us, he thought, and his pulse quickened unhelpfully. 

You sat in front of him, sipping at that awful hot chocolate, waiting for him to deliver more of his advice. He hesitated to speak more. Here you were, attention fully focused on him, and the dependence on him to get you home tonight, to move back into a world that wasn’t just you two and your own little universe, and all Seokjin was doing was considering how long he could carry on the pause. 

Maybe he would never speak again, and you would have to stay here forever, on top of the mountain as the snow began to gently fall around you two like you both lived in your own private snow globe. 

Wait, snow? Seokjin blinked, and sure enough the flakes were swirling around you both again, the wind kicking up your hair. You let out a sharp shiver, and that broke the fantasy of staying here. 

He ushered you back to the car, where now the snow was coming down in thick, heavy globs that signified the moisture in the air had increased, which made sense. Back in the city, the forecast had said it was set to rain, but he’d forgotten elevation impacts the weather, and that the change of moisture in the air also could result in ice on the way down. 

As you warmed your hands in front of his heat vents, he tried to think of his next move. It was now after midnight, which meant the road authority was probably not planning on plowing the roads anytime soon, and the accumulation quickly erasing the parking lot around you was a sure sign that it soon would be unsafe to drive. 

If you stay here any longer, you might be stuck together all night, an evil idea glinted through his head, and he felt a pulse of desire run through him as he caught a whiff of your soft, sweet scent. 

It would be kind of hot, the two of you snuggled in the backseat of his SUV, you clinging to him tightly to keep yourself warm through the storm as you used his parka as a blanket, the windows fogging up to give you two privacy as you moved tighter together, panting into each other’s mouths when you rubbed up against him and–

No. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Urging his steadily inflating erection down, he glanced over to you, noticing you were still shivering. 

He sighed. God, why did he have to get hard right now, in gray sweatpants no less? Nothing screamed “boner alert” more than seeing a dick swelling in light colored sweats. But you were still cold, and he decided he would rather risk you seeing him hard than your teeth chattering or you getting sick. 

Seokjin removed his puffer, handing it to you. “Here, put this on,” he ordered, and you looked at him, a tremor rocking through your body as you tried to eke out a “thank you”.

You began to put the puffer over your peacoat, but Seokjin shook his head. “I think your peacoat is useless right now. Maybe you should take that off and just wear mine. And then, consider getting a new coat,” he teased. 

You hesitated. “Uh,” you said. Seokjin’s eyebrow raised, and he swiftly adjusted himself in his joggers while you looked down at your coat before sighing and unbuttoning it. 

Fuck. You still had on that same top from earlier, and Seokjin could now see that it wasn’t just a sexy, low cut top that showed your heavy and full breasts, but that it also had a large keyhole cutout through the back, which meant you didn’t wear a bra with it. He bit his lip as he took in your hard and prominent nipples. God, no wonder you were cold. You were practically naked. 

His cock twitched, and any attempts he had at concealing his erection were useless. He was now definitely going to be fully hard for the rest of the drive. 

You zipped yourself into Seokjin’s puffer and let out a satisfied sigh as you nuzzled into the warmth. Seokjin took the opportunity to snatch your peacoat from your lap and drape it over himself, praying that would help conceal some of the compass-pointing-north bullshit he was trying to stave off. 

Unfortunately, you snuggled into his coat was just making it worse. 

Clearing his throat, he started the car, and slowly began testing the surface of the parking lot. It was a little slick, but nothing too bad. If you stayed any longer, though, you would definitely be here overnight. 

With a silent, sad nod to the outlook point, Seokjin prepared himself to head back to reality, where your moment of connection would be replaced by workplace congeniality. 

About halfway down the mountain, the snow surely turned to a heavy rain, aggressively battering down on the windshield and making it nearly impossible to find the lines on the road. 

“I’m sorry, I think I should pull over,” he apologized and you agreed easily, your shoulders relaxing a bit as he pulled over to the side of the road. 

“Well, we never really got to finish talking about stuff anyway,” you offered generously. 

Seokjin smirked back. “Yeah, we didn’t. Look, what I wanted to say earlier was that with streaming, you shouldn’t have to compromise on what you want to be successful. If people leave your stream because they can’t hear you baby voice their requests so they can get off, then fuck them. They aren’t the community of people you want to watch your content, anyway. Those are the type of people who are never satisfied, who will just demand more from you. Sooner or later they’ll be less kind and be aggressive and threatening. And you don’t deserve that, Y/N.” 

He sucked in a breath. “You just need a chance to build confidence, that’s all. Assuming you even want to continue doing these streams. I know you said you don’t feel like you have much of a choice, but maybe I could help you out. Uh, I could give you a raise or something so you could quit! And with school, too, I’m sure we could figure out something! Maybe if it’s not too late you could go back and––”

You held up your hands, signaling for Seokjin to stop talking. 

“I’ve made up my mind! And I don’t think giving me a raise or trying to help me with school would be a great way of maintaining that boundary we are supposed to have, remember? Something tells me a boss isn’t supposed to offer his employee an undeserved pay raise for her personal issues.” You huff.

You were right. Seokjin chuckled. “Okay, fair. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to throw everything away like I did.” 

You whipped your head over to him. “Listen, Seokjin. I appreciate that you care and don’t want things to happen to me. But I’m also not you. And you also didn’t throw everything away but that’s another topic completely, one I thought we discussed yesterday morning. Regardless, I’m getting a lot of mixed messages here and I need you to help me understand what exactly is happening right now. Are you my friend or my boss? Because right now it feels like you’re telling me what to do like you are in charge of me but hiding it behind the guise of friendship and that’s not how this works. So explain. Ideally before you drop me off and we don’t speak again until Monday.” 

Seokjin swallowed hard, an anxiousness beginning to swirl in your stomach. This whole conversation felt like it was going south really quick. He scrambled to steady himself and took a deep breath.

“You’re right,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t styled it today, and the black strands were sticking to his forehead from the melted snow. “I’m sorry. You have every right to decide. And you’d said before that this was a temporary pause. And even if it wasn’t, that’s also your choice.”

“Again, yes, you’re right. But I also don’t see why you seem to care so much!” Your volume raised in annoyance and you crossed your arms over your chest in a puff. “You don’t get to decide I’m some soft little flower who can’t advocate for herself! Like yeah, I feel shitty about what I did but I’m just trying to figure out my boundaries, just like you said earlier! So yes, I have the right to decide if I want to go back to school or not! Thanks for pointing that out!”

If he hadn’t been getting chewed out right now by you, Seokjin would’ve thought you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen, your mouth settled into a sharp frown and your eyebrows knit together as you argued with him. 

Instead though, he felt like a jackass. He’d seriously overstepped in his attempts to protect you, and guilt washed through him as he realized he was placing himself into your shoes. Even if your situations were scarily similar, you still had the right to do what you wanted without his interference. Besides, his intention was to provide safety for you, not control. Maybe he’d underestimated you earlier and how you were utilizing your stream. Yes, you were uncomfortable, but it’s not like you were a child who was set to be taken advantage of, or that you’d make the same mistakes he would.  

“I-I care about you, Y/N. We’re friends. I know being your boss changed a lot, and while I sign your paycheck and have to give you orders, it’s not like that change in role made me care less. It’s not that easy.” 

You uncrossed your arms. “But,” you started, your tone softening, “you can’t both tell me what to do as my boss and tell me what to do as a friend. I’m not clocked in, Seokjin. And that’s why this is so fucking hard. Because my boss is the one who took me up a mountain after apologizing to me yesterday for his “gross misuse of power” when I’m the one who kissed you sitting on a fucking prep counter! And yeah, we were friends before you were my boss, and that means I learned to work with you and trust you as my coworker, and we shared interests so you can watch my streams and tell me about MapleStory. We have history and it’s not something we can deny. But you keep acting like I am not in control, like I am not an adult. 

“I would love it if we could stay on this mountain forever,” you added, taking the words Seokjin was thinking earlier and making them real, “because, maybe then we could just stay friends. I miss you as my friend! And I wouldn’t feel so…weird now trying to figure out which guy, Boss Seokjin or Friend Seokjin, is talking to me.” 

Seokjin was unsure what to say, just that he knew he’d fucked up yesterday not just with his behavior in the kitchen, but ultimately how he set boundaries with you. 

“I don’t know what to do about it, Y/N,” he said weakly, honestly. 

“Can I then offer a suggestion?” Your voice sounded frustrated, on the verge of yelling. He nodded. 

“On this mountain, right now. You are my friend. And any other time when we aren’t at work, we are friends. We are not the first two people who started a friendship and had a power dynamic at work. I don’t know what happened in your past that makes this so hard for you, and you don’t need to tell me. But whatever you said yesterday, it wasn’t true. I want you to trust me when I say you didn’t take advantage of me. Was it kind of stupid and inappropriate on both our parts? Sure. But I’m not this weak, breakable thing. You said so yourself with my boundary-setting for my stream that I just need confidence to assert myself and make sure I don’t get taken advantage of. So let me start with you. Help me start with you.” 

You leaned a little closer and Seokjin’s heart beat erratically. “I promise, Kim Seokjin, that whatever happened in the kitchen yesterday was consensual. At least on my end. And that I do hold you in regard as my boss during work hours most of the time. But I can’t fucking stand if you continue to uphold this standard when you talk to me as an authority and then immediately pull a hypocritical move and try to be my friend after. It’ll drive me crazy.”

Your voice was shaky now, like you were holding back tears. Seokjin fought the urge to pull you close to him, but god, how he wanted to. 

“What you do need,” he asked and you sighed. 

“Clear communication. On both sides. No more deciding for me. On anything. If I say no at work, it’s just as valid as saying no in private, even if it’s something you think is what’s best for me. Even if you don’t like it. Because you don’t know what really is or isn’t until I tell you.” He nodded in agreement. 

“I can do that. And I’m sorry again, for how confusing this must’ve been. I acted selfishly when I decided that my position as your boss overruled and negated any of our history. It was never going to be as clean as I wanted it to be,” he apologized. 

You managed a sad smile but nodded, a sign you accepted his apology. 

“Thank you. And also, I do want to continue doing the streams. I didn’t get to say that before. I do want to try after dark stuff. Because it feels like it could be fun, could help me stay involved but less personal if that makes sense. And…” You trailed off, humming to yourself as you tried to find the words for your final thought. 

“I really would like it if I could have your help in this. To help coach me in a way to maintain that boundary. You did have some really great points on execution. And I think maybe your experience in cam-leadership and management could help me both continue doing this but also finding what I want. And I need a friend for that. Not a boss or manager.” 

Seokjin’s eyes widened as he caught the last of what you were saying. 

“Wait,” he said, trying to put the pieces together. Were you asking what he thought you were asking? “So…you want me to help you run an adult-only, after dark gaming stream?” You laughed. 

“I need you to be my confidence coach,” you clarified. “Help me learn how to say no to my fanbase and keep myself calm throughout a stream so I don’t compromise. And like, I don’t know. We can iron out the details, the idea is so fresh to me, but I need you, my caring friend Seokjin, to make sure I don’t break the terms of service again and ban me from streaming.”

He blinked a few times, unsure how you’d arrived at the conclusion that he would be any good at this. 

But Seokjin knew he would be. He did this multiple times a week, and it’s how he knew you were heading toward trouble. What if he could help you learn how to protect yourself? Because you were right, you didn’t need anyone to save you. But you maybe needed someone to show you. And he could be that person. 

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll do it.”

As Seokjin pulls up to your apartment nearly an hour later, you feel a slight sadness that your night is over. On the way home, as the rain steadily poured and the city lights came back into a clear view, you’d felt a tug of worry in your gut that because you were back in the city, your agreement to stay friends wasn’t real, and that any moment Seokjin would be cold and formal, withdrawing his agreement to help you with streaming. 

You’d had the idea in the car in somewhat of an epiphany, sorting through the confusing dynamic you’d been shoved into. It made sense to you, now. Instead of trying to model yourself after the master, why not learn from the man himself? 

Despite your initial anxiety that he would back out, Seokjin if anything is all the more reassuring, gently nudging you with your peacoat in his hands to signal it is time to trade. You nod sleepily, shrugging it off your shoulders and trying to ignore the disappointment you have in no longer being enveloped in his warm scent. 

As you tuck your arms back through your sleeves, Seokjin gets out of his side of the car, the rain still beating harshly, but he appears even more determined to open your door for you, opening an umbrella to keep you and your coat from getting pounded on. 

You try to insist on sharing the umbrella, but Seokjin shakes his head, guiding you forward toward your apartment complex’s front door. 

“Thank you,” you say as you step under the lip of the roof with him, smiling up at Seokjin, who is already soaked. His black hair is piecey and dripping down his face, plastering a few disheveled pieces across his forehead. “God, you really should’ve used the umbrella too! You’re drenched!”

Seokjin laughs a hearty laugh, the squeaky, windshield wiper one that makes your chest burn. “Please, that coat you’re wearing is pathetic. I had said dress for the warmth and you picked one of the worst things you could find. Even a standard issue blazer has more weather resistance than that thing!” 

“Excuse you, but this coat most of the time is fine. And also, I thought you were just saying it as a formality! If I’d known we were heading into a literal mountain I would have changed my clothes!” You bicker back, your laughter filling the space between you two. 

“Yeah, well, now you know for next time,” he says, eyes flickering with something you almost categorize as lust. 

You beam. This time the idea of next time feels possible. If Seokjin and you can work on these weird work boundaries, there might be a hope something comes from this after all. Unless he’s gay, which you still can’t quite figure out, but you try not to think about that as he shakes his head like a big dog. 

“Okay, Sparky,” you joke and glance down at your phone. It’s very late now, and your body is quickly succumbing to the exhaustion of the day. “I’ll see you Monday?”

Seokjin’s shoulders sag, and he sighs, stepping back into the rain. “Yeah, I should probably let you go now. I’ll see you on Monday. And Y/N?”

His lips turn into a smug smirk as the rain soaks through his clothes. “Don’t forget that you promised me a crate of julienned carrots”.

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[backtothefanfiction]

One Last Date For Christmas | PART ONE: An Arrangement At The Christmas Party

Summary: Another year, The same Christmas party and holiday hook up... or is it?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Smut (oral M & F receiving, p in v, mild dirty talk with Christmas references), Mentions of Cancer/Death, Fake Dating, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, this is basically Hallmark/Netflix Christmas movie vibes

Word Count: 5.9K+

A/N: Okay, so I've been feeling crumby lately and really need a boost, so although we took a poll and it was decided this whole story would go up as one piece at the same time, I need the motivation and have had a crumby week mentally and need a boost. So here is part 1. If you do enjoy PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I am like Tinkerbell, if I don't get attention I will die haha. But seriously my mental health needs the kind words for energy so please take a moment to share some if you like this part and not just like it. Anyway... ENJOY!!!

Another year, another fancy corporate business party Peter was obliged to attend due to his job. It had become such a regular routine over these last 7 years J. Jonah Jameson didn’t even bother asking if he was available to come anymore, just automatically emailed over the details so he could attend. 

Peter couldn’t completely complain. He got free drinks and fancy food for the night. I mean in reality he got to act just like any other guest, despite the camera he had around his neck for the night. And instead of paying to be there, he was instead getting paid to be there. Sure it was only an extra couple hundred bucks, but at this time of year it really did make all the difference.

Being a freelance photographer only made him so much a year, especially when the rest of his time was spent moonlighting as the local superhero which didn’t pay a thing. Not that he couldn’t have made some money as a public figure. A couple grand here to endorse a few products. A donation of thanks or two from business owners or generous members of the community there. All of which had been options that he had turned down. That wasn’t who Spider-Man was and definitely not who he wanted Spider-Man to be. And so at almost 40 years old, this was Peter’s life.

No wife. No kids. Not even a pet, because he couldn’t commit to spending enough time at home in his tiny run down box of a studio apartment, to look after it. He sometimes brought girls home, he did have needs after all, but no matter how interested they had been in him, he’d never let himself get attached. After Gwen he would never get attached again.

The only one to ever even come close was you. He had met you 5 years ago now at this very event. Just like him, you always felt like a fish out of water at these parties, despite always being on the guest list. Your Father was one of the big business benefactors of the party and ever since the divorce you had become his regular plus one. 

Just like Peter you were a chronic singleton, always too busy traveling for work to be able to sustain an actual relationship, despite your Mother trying her best every time you were home to set you up with some poor soul. She just didn’t get it. You didn’t believe in marriage anymore as most of them ended in divorce, your parents marriage and even two of your Uncle’s marriages prime examples alone; and as for children? You had decided at the age of 13 you wouldn’t have kids and no matter how many times your Mother, Grandmother or Aunt Sarah told you, you would change your mind, you hadn’t. If anything the birth of your brother’s kids had only cemented things more. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your niece and nephew, you were just always glad you could pass them back off to your brother and his wife after a few hours of their shrieking play and demands for cookies and ice cream, while fighting over what to watch on the telly. No, you had never wanted kids and you never would. You had however always wanted to get a cat, but until you changed jobs or just simply didn’t have to travel for work anymore, that would just remain a lovely little dream for the future.

Peter always arrived to the party early. After all, he was getting paid by the hour, so the longer he was there taking photos, the more money he could claim from the Daily Bugle finance department on Monday. He aimlessly wandered around taking photos of the venue and the table settings and the odd entering guest as people arrived. He helped himself to horderves off of shiny platters and the odd glass of champagne as he worked, seamlessly floating through the crowd, formally stopping people every now and again for more posed group shots, other times just taking candid photos of people mingling. He took the occasional booming order from J. Jonah Jameson, “Hey Parker! Make sure you get a shot of me with the Mayor. Parker! Come here and take a photo of me and Mrs Perez! Parker! Take a picture of me and my wife!”

“Yes, sir.” Peter would respond with a smile. Usually you were here by now to laugh at the way he followed the head of the Daily Bugle around like his lap dog, but as of yet you still hadn’t arrived. Then a horrible thought crossed Peter’s mind, ‘what if you weren’t coming this year.’ He had seen your Father walking about, had even taken a couple of photos of him with various business partners and city officials, but as of yet there had been no sign of you.

Peter checked his watch again hoping you were just running late, but the closer it got to 8.30pm and the start of the meal portion of the night, he started to give up hope. He knew you were busy, always flying between Tokyo, Milan, London and Paris for work; but you were always usually back home for the holidays. He was just about to check his watch again when you came through the door like a whirlwind in red.

He watched you like a Spider sizing up his prey as you made a beeline for your Father. You gave him a rushed greeting and an apologetic kiss to the cheek, before you followed him and the rest of his group to their table, placed closer to the small makeshift stage that had been erected at one end of the long window lined room. He kept his focus on you as you took your seat, your father pushing your chair in for you as you turned to greet one of the other women at the table a couple seats away from you. That was, until J. Jonah Jameson’s booming voice called him away again.

“Parker! You’re over here with us!” He barked as he ushered Peter over to a table on the other side of the room. He was just able to lock eyes with you and give you a friendly smile before he took his seat. “I’ve sat you on this side so you can get the wife’s good side.” Jameson continued to say.

There was a couple of speeches and awards before the food was served. Peter was pleased to find that he was in fact in a good vantage point in which he could take pictures of the stage this year without having to move. He also had a clear sightline to you too, his lens unconsciously moving in your direction every few shots then back again.

Peter had chosen the steak and hasselback potatoes for his dinner with a rich chocolate pudding for dessert. When he finished his meal, he dismissed himself from the table, as he traditionally did, to go around the tables and take a few more candid shots of people before taking a break at the bar. 

“I’ll take an old fashioned, please.” Your familiar voice suddenly came from beside him. “I’m sorry I was late.” you said as you leaned into him as if conspiratorially. “My flight got delayed.”

“Where were you coming from this time?” Peter asked as he took a sip from his own drink.

“Boston.” You said with a sigh. It definitely hadn’t been the answer he was expecting and his quizzical look at you said as much. “I was visiting my Mother. Her and her new partner Brad moved there a few months back to be closer to his grandchildren.” You explained.

“I’m guessing that means you got away with not being set up on a blind date this visit.” Peter fished, knowing your Mother’s habits and routines well after these last 5 years of annual hookups.

“You’d think so.” You said as you took a sip of your stiff drink, just to emphasize the drama of it all. “Turns out Maggie’s teacher is single and available.” you say with mock enthusiasm.

“Maggie?” Peter questions.

“One of Brad’s grandchildren.” you fill in with another sigh and eyebrow raise. “I wish she’d just give it a rest, you know?” You pause as you take another sip of your drink before you tell him, “I’m thinking of coming up with a fake boyfriend just to get her off my back. But then I know she’ll be all like ‘when do I get to meet him?’” you say doing an exaggerated impersonation of your Mother’s voice.

“Yeah, I think about doing the same thing with Aunt May sometimes, but I’d hate lying to her.” Peter confided.

“How is your Aunt?” you ask. The one blessing of only seeing each other once a year meant there were always things for you both to talk about and catch up on.

You watch as his face falls, his eyes turning sad as he looks into his drink. “Umm, they’re not good actually. We found out this year she has stage 4 breast cancer. The doctor said this is probably gonna be her last Christmas.” He struggles to look at you.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.” you say, mustering up as much empathy as you can as your hand instinctively comes to rub at his back. “Is there nothing they can do?”

“They said they could try a few different treatments but it wasn’t guaranteed to work and May ultimately decided that… Well she said that she’s lived to a good age and if this is how she is meant to go, this is how she is meant to go.” He paused, blinking hard as he continued to stare at the liquid in his glass. “She said I was a grown man and didn’t need her anymore.” He let out a small unsatisfied chuckle that wreaked of denial, before he finally looked at you again. “I just… I just feel guilty, you know?”

“What for?” You asked him.

“It’s just. I know she was always holding onto this hope that I’d meet someone. That I’d end up finding someone and settling down. Live a life like her and Ben did.”

“But that’s not what you want from your life?” you question him now unsure, as you finally sit yourself on the bar stool next to him. “I mean, if you wanted that, isn’t that what you would have done? Gone out, met a girl. Settled down. You can’t be someone you’re not just to please others.”

“But it was what I wanted.” he suddenly confides. “And that’s why I feel guilty because she knows that. When I first introduced her to Gwen, I said, ‘that’s the girl I’m going to marry Aunt May.’” he says with gusto, like he’s saying it exactly how he had said it to her, before his body deflates again.

“But things change. People change. We’re allowed to change Peter.”

“I know, but… she just, I know she never gave up hope.”

“You know what they say about hope?” You say.

“It breeds eternal misery,” he bristles.

“No.” You chastise. “It’s like the sun, if you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night.”

Peter’s brow furrows as his head turns back to you. “Did you just quote Star Wars to me?”

“Princess Leia.” you smile.

“God I love you.” he says casually with a smile.

“I know.” you continue to beam back before you raise your glass towards him. “For Aunt May?”

“For Aunt May.” he agrees before clinking your glass with his own.

You both creep away a little before midnight, catching a cab back to your apartment. You always went back to your apartment. Peter said it was because he wanted you to be comfortable and said it was more homelier than his place, but the truth was, Peter was ashamed to take you back to his own apartment. It looked like a dingy run down squat or some really dodgy student housing in comparison to your place. 

He didn’t want to kid himself, he knew he was definitely punching above his weight a little when it came to you, not because he necessarily thought he was ugly, but more simply because you had more money than him. You’d never made him feel inferior for it. In fact you’d always wanted to help him by offering to put him in contact with some galleries so he could get more of his work out there. Maybe make some extra cash by selling some of his photos as art for the rich and wealthy, not just to a local paper, but Peter had never had the guts to take you up on the offer. It would make him feel indebted to you and throw the balance of your relationship off even more than it somewhat already was.

“Did you choose red because it’s my favourite color or just for the festivities?” He nibbled on your ear as his fingers ran across the velvet skirt of the dress, dragging it up to your thigh as he pressed himself against your back.

You hadn’t bothered turning on any other lights than the Christmas tree, before you stopped to take a moment to look out your window at the city. Christmas in New York was your favorite time of year. Every year to mark the occasion, you would go down to Rockefeller Plaza, grab a hot chocolate and watch as they turned on the lights. As kids you would go ice skating there. Less so now you were adults, your brother and his own kids had their own tradition of skating in Central Park on Christmas Eve, but some years you would still partake.

“I chose it for the season.” You sighed, your body relaxing back into him, head resting on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck.

“My festive little elf.” He teased as his fingers continued to work up the hem of your dress until they could reach your panties, which you had in fact bought new and chosen with Peter in mind.

“I even brought presents.” You plaid along teasingly.

Your breathing hitched slightly as the pads of his fingers dragged over your lace covered clit.

“Really? For me?” You could feel him smiling into the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“Mhmm.” You hum. “Maybe, you should unwrap me.” You tease back.

“Mmm.” He hums back deeply in delight as he turns you around to face him. The hand that was just ghosting at your centre, now wraps firmly around the back of your neck, as he smashes your rouge stained lips into his. 

His other hand begins pawing at the velvety fabric of your dress again before he’s pulling his face away from you, his grin growing too big and you can’t help but give a satisfying smile back as you notice how your lipstick has transferred from your lips to his, marking him as yours for the evening. Your hand reaches for his and you begin taking steps backwards, pulling him in the direction of your bedroom and awaiting bed.

Your room is a slight mess from your hasty packing before you left for Boston and your equally hasty unpacking upon your return. You’d just had enough time to get home and get changed, rushing your make up and hair, before you left to go to the party. Your suitcase lay open on the floor, some of the contents lay spilling out from where you had hunted around for your makeup bag. The little pink bag from Victoria Secret sat upside down on the floor beside it. Peter spies it the moment he enters the room.

He feigns shock, “Did you buy this for me?” He teases as he picks up the bag.

“Don’t get too excited Parker, they were having a sale.”

“I don’t care.” He says with a boyish grin, despite his 39 years of age. “Come here and let me see.”

You smile at him as you begin to step closer to him before calling out into the room, “Alexa, turn on mood lighting.”

His eyebrows raise as a lamp in the corner of the room turns on, illuminating your bedroom in a magenta hue. “Mood lighting huh?”

“Do you wanna be able to see your Christmas gift or not?” You sass back with a hand on your hip.

“I mean, I’ve always thought of you as my Christmas present, regardless of what you wear.” He says as his fingers begin to grab for you again and pull you into him.

“Next year I won’t bother then.”

“Oh no, you’ve made it a thing now. I’m gonna expect this, every- single- year- from now on.” He says between kisses across your cheek and down your neck and upper chest. You begin to giggle and shriek in delight as his lips gently nibble at your skin. “Mmm.  Come on then. Let’s see what you got for me.” He says ripping himself away from you so you have the space to reach behind you for the zipper to your dress. 

The dress begins to relax its hold on your body, slowly exposing the black strapless lace bra to Peter before you slide the dress down the rest of your body to show off the matching lacey bikini briefs. You carefully step out of the puddle that now is the red velvet dress on your floor, your ankles only wobbling slightly as you still stand in your heels for him to take in the full sight.

He pauses for a moment silently taking you in before he gives a small nod. “Yes. Yes, this will do. Excuse me a moment while I go and write my thank you letter to San-“

“Peter.” You whine.

“Oh come on, don’t be bratty with me now.” He says jokingly as he steps closer and wraps you in his arms again.

“I thought you liked it when I was bratty.” You joke back as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Nope. You become completely intolerable and insufferable and…” You roll your eyes as he continues to list words, but nonetheless, begin to snake your arms from around his neck, trailing them down his chest as you begin to get down on your knees before him.

You begin to work open the button of his jeans, freeing his semi hard cock from its confines. He only stops his fake monologue about you acting like a brat when you take his length into your mouth and his hand involuntarily reaches out for the side of your head as he sighs. 

The only sounds that fill the room now are his small gasps and moans and your saliva slick lips around his cock. One of your hands braces itself on his thigh, whilst the other works the rest of his shaft your mouth won’t reach.

You pull off him with a sloppy pop of your lips and Peter groans before you begin to circle the tip of his cock with your tongue and he jumps away from you with sensitivity, suddenly worried he’d blow his load too soon if you continue like that. It makes you giggle.

His fingers reach around the flesh of your bicep and he pulls you up off the floor before pulling you into him, his head nuzzling into your neck, lips and teeth nibbling and teasing at your skin and driving you crazy. He’d worked out that you liked that on the second Christmas you had slept together. He loved the way it made you sigh but also giggle and shriek when the sensation grew too much.

“Ahhh Peter.” you cried out with a high pitched moan. 

He reluctantly broke himself away from you and the intoxicating smell of your favorite perfume so you could latch your mouth onto his, a satisfied smile struggling to be contained on your lips. He can’t help but smile back.

“Peter!” you shriek and giggle as he reaches around to pick you up and drop you back onto the covers of your bed.

Your hands get lost in his hair as he begins kissing his way down your chest. Your stomach involuntarily twitches as his lips move across it and the way his hands reach for your hips to forcefully hold you in place sends you reeling, a wave of arousal soaking your panties. His lips skip over your underwear, instead kissing at the inside of your thigh as his hands begin to relax on your hips, his fingers curling under the waistband of your underwear, ready to pull them down.

As he removes you of your underwear, he also takes the opportunity to rid himself of the flattering black long sleeved top he’d been wearing all evening. The removal of his shirt reveals a silver necklace that had been hiding beneath the shirt and the way the chain hangs off his neck has you biting your lip. It is so rare to see a man wear jewelry so you never realized the effect the sight had on you before, but there's something about the connotations and hidden meaning to it, his choice and confidence to wear it, makes you want to rub your thighs together in want. 

His fingers are suddenly teasing at your entrance though and its almost enough to take the edge off, or it would be if his finger hadn’t stopped at the first knuckle of his middle finger. You realize he’s only done it so he can spread the arousal that was already leaking out of your cunt around between your folds and across your clit so he can then go in and lick it all off. Your head falls back into the pillows of your bed as you sigh out his name in relief.

You can feel the focus he has radiating off of him without even looking as he begins to expertly lick up from your entrance, swirl his tongue around your clit and then back down again as he draws moans, ever increasing in volume, from your lips. You found out very early on in your yearly dalliances that he was an expert with that tongue, making you cum not once, not twice, but three times just from his tongue alone, when you told him no one had ever actually gotten you off that way before.

You could feel your first climax of the night building low within you, your muscles growing tight, clit growing extra sensitive as your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, encouraging him and guiding him and not allowing him to pull away until you finished. The pressure of his tongue grew firmer and you ground your clit down against it until that tight thread within you snapped, your hips stuttering as pleasure rippled through you. He held tightly onto you, lapping up everything you gave him and helping you ride it out until you were actively pushing him away from you. He gave your bare thighs a small satisfactory slap as he gave you his smug tight lipped  smile that seemed to say ‘another happy customer’ and you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle before turning your head and trying to hide the ear to ear smile that was on your face.

You were able to compose yourself as he shifted from the bed to shuck himself fully off the rest of his clothes, his jeans joining your red dress in a puddle on the floor, before he carefully lifted the necklace off over his head and placed it on your bedside table. You shifted yourself over on the bed as he came down to rest beside you, his hand reaching out to pull your face to him as he gave you a kiss before he encouraged you to climb up on top of him.  Your lips didn’t part from his as you straddled his waist, your cunt involuntarily rubbing itself along his hard length as your tongues intermingled with one another.

His fingers reached round to grab a hold of your ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh as he encouraged you to grind down harder. You moaned and gasped against his lips at the drag of your clit across his skin. Your open mouth before him allowed him to reach out for your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth making you moan louder, before he began to trail kisses down your chin and neck. You closed your eyes, getting lost in the feeling and the sounds of your own voice. It sent a new flood of arousal between your legs and you could feel Peter grinning against your skin as you worked your slick over his length.

You paused only long enough to reach over to your chest of drawers, pulling a box of condoms out of the second drawer. The position allowed Peter to attach his mouth over your breasts, his teeth biting at them over the lace bra. You reached behind you to unclasp it and take it off as you sat upright, Peter’s hands resting patiently on the tops of your thighs as he waited for you to then open the condom. You held out the torn open packet for him to take the condom and start rolling it down onto his length as you reached back over the side of the bed to drop the wrapper in the bin. 

You shifted your legs back slightly as you recentred yourself, one hand balancing on the bed, the other on his bare chest as he lined himself up with your entrance. He glided the tip of his cock against your folds, covering the tip of his cock with your slick before he began to encourage you back onto it. The slow fill of his cock inside you had you letting out a long sigh of satisfaction, your eyes falling closed, head tilting back as you savored the feeling.

It had been a slow year. Despite a brief hook up with a guy over the summer after a night out with friends and a quick tinder hookup in your hotel in Rome (where the guy spoke barely a lick of English), your only companion had been your old reliable rabbit toy. You’d be lying if you hadn’t been counting down the days to tonight the whole time you had been visiting your Mother. When your flight had been delayed, it was the thought of missing out on your one good and guaranteed fuck of the year that had stressed you out. Now it all seemed worth it.

Peter started slowly, his hips pushing up into you at an agonizing pace as he guided you down and your hips back with every thrust, the contours of his cock dragging agonizingly slowly across every sensitive spot inside you, working you up gradually to another earth shattering climax. Your body bowed over him as you let out small gasps of praise into his forehead, your fingers gripping tightly into the sheets either side of his head. You felt one of his hands run soothingly up your back and it sent shivers down your spine that only added to the sensation building in between your legs.

“Peter.” you sighed against him, as you pressed your forehead into his, your eyes closed in concentration as you chased that feeling inside you.

“What is it? What do you need?” his voice gently calls to you as he moves the hand that was caressing your back round behind your neck, pulling your lips down to his for a kiss.

“More. I need more.” you say equally as gently back into his lips. 

You feel his head give a small nod in acknowledgment before he seals the deal with a kiss, as his thrusts begin to grow quicker and firmer in pace. It makes him hit something deep inside you that has you crying out. Your eyes fly open, desperate to lock onto his. He looks up at you with such beauty and gratitude. It makes you want to kiss him again and you do, your tongue licking deeply and slowly into his mouth in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your thighs shudder slightly as the sensation between your legs changes and you know your cumming again but the feeling of his cock moving between your legs doesn’t stop. It works you through the high and he still doesn’t stop. Instead his thrusts grow fast as he searches for his own release. You brace yourself, holding yourself over him as he just takes what he wants. If he holds out long enough you think you can get out one more orgasm of your own.

You balance yourself on one arm as your other hand reaches between your legs, swirling rapidly at your clit as you push yourself against his length, feeling every sensation of his rapid thrust. Peter grunts in response at the sensation of your fluttering cunt and it forces him to find one final push, his hips sputtering only slightly before he increases his angle and speed one last time, then he’s embracing you.

His arms wrap tightly around you as your final climax soaks his cock. Your head is buried into his neck as you try to shut out the overstimulation for just a few more strokes of his cock before he stills, his length pulsating as he finishes, only adding to the sensitivity between your legs making you squirm. He’s quick to push you off him as you do, his own sensitivity unable to take the feeling.

You both pause breathing deeply as you come down before he gives you a small tap and you flop onto your side on the bed. He quickly gets up, kicking his legs out to disperse the blood around them as his cock softens. You close your eyes to revel in the last dregs of your orgasm as he goes to your adjoining ensuite to sort himself out.

He takes a little longer than usual and you begin to frown, but then you hear the flush of the toilet and the door opening and you settle. You quickly get up, flashing him a smile as you hobble to your bathroom with legs like a newborn calf. Usual he’d let out a proud little chuffing laugh but this year he doesn’t.

When you return to see him sat on the side of the bed in his underwear, his fingers reaching to fix the necklace he had taken off back over his head and around his neck, you realize he looks distracted. “What is it? What’s wrong?” you ask him as you climb over the bed to your rightful side and slip between the covers.

His head turns, eyebrows raising as if he’s only just noticed you’re back in the room. “Huh?” he says. “Oh, nothing.”

“Really?” you say as he shuffles himself round to face you, put he doesn’t get under the covers. Peter doesn’t sleep over. He stays for a debrief and a chat for maybe another hour, some years two, but always leaves to return to his own apartment and bed.

“It’s just,” he says as he places an arm under his head as he gets himself comfortable, “I was just thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What did I say earlier?” you reply as you shift into a similar position to his, facing him. You look like two kids at a slumber party who have moved so close to each other so you can whisper really quietly and not disturb the others who are sleeping.

“About pretending to have a boyfriend to get your Mom off your case.”

You frown at him, “Yeah, but it’d never work because she’d want to meet him.”

“Okay, yeah.” he says, but his tone isn’t one of defeat, it instead says ‘wait, hear me out’. “But what if you had someone to take home and pretend to be said boyfriend?”

You’re still confused. “What are you trying to get at here Parker?” You suddenly sit up, placing distance between the two of you as a realization hits you. “Wait, this isn’t you asking me out or trying to be my boyfriend is it? You know I don’t really do the whole dating thing. We have our arrangement and that's-”

“No. NO. Would you just hear me out.” he speaks over you and cuts you off as he too sits up defensively. “Look, I just thought we could come to some sort of arrangement.” You’re silent as he pauses and takes a deep breath and you wait for him to continue. “Okay.” he says, his hands folding in his lap, “This is probably gonna be my Aunt May’s last Christmas.” he says and the implication of his words make you bristle. He struggles to look at you, but your eyes remain fixed on him so he know that you are listening and paying attention, even if his words are starting to make you uncomfortable. “I don’t want her to die thinking I’m gonna spend the rest of my life alone, you know? I mean,” he sighs, collecting his thoughts before he continues, “I don’t want her to die without hope.”

“Okay.” you acknowledge quietly as you follow his words.

“So I was thinking, what if- just for this christmas,” he emphasizes, “what if we pretend to you know, actually date. Come the New Year we go our separate ways as normal, no strings attached, but you know, just to get our families off our backs so we can live our chosenly single lives.” He screws up his face a little at the word chosenly, which he’s all but sure he’s made up but figures he’s gotten his point across.

“So, we pretend to date for the holidays to get our parents off our backs?” you frown, checking you’ve got his proposal right.

“Yeah. You’d come for Christmas Eve dinner with my Aunt and I’ll…” his voice trails off as he wracks his brain for an equal solution for you.

“You’ll come to Boston with me for my Mother’s New Years party.” You fill in for him.

He hesitates a second realizing he’d actually need to travel and stay with you and your family to make things even on your side of things, but the thought of letting May die thinking he’s going to be lonely forever, has his stomach turning more so he hastily agrees. “Fine, but-” he interjects, knowing a single day with his Aunt for a supposedly 2-3 day trip with your family isn’t a fair exchange, “if my Aunt is still with us in February, you have to stop by on Valentines day.”

“I thought you just said we go our separate ways come January.” You respond.

“Yes, but one meal with my Aunt in comparison to a multi day trip to Boston is hardly an equal-”

“Fine. Fine.” You concede with your hands raised.

He relaxes slightly as you come to an agreement. “You wanna shake hands on it or something?” he offers. You roll your eyes, your fingers reaching for the pillow you’d pulled into your lap to nervously fiddle with instead, picking it up and throwing it at him. “Hey.” he jokingly exclaims as he holds his hands up to catch the pillow before it hits him in the face. “Is that any way to treat your new boyfriend?” he deadpans.

“Uuuhhgg.” you scoff back with another eye roll but you can’t help the tiny smirk that creeps into the corner of your mouth.

I'm going to upload the other parts of this mini series on the dates that match up with the story (Christmas Eve, New Years Eve), if you want to be added to the list below, please put it in writing. All current tags have been taken from likes, reblogs or comments from other posts about this series, if you wish to be removed, just let me know. (I had a few more names who liked posts but it wouldn't let me tag you, apologies, I'm not sure how to fix that but I hope this finds you anyway.) Once again if you did like this, please don't just like it, respond with some words of your own to give me a boost.

@sincericida @tarzinnia @raindropsandteaandtears @xenasolos @dil3mma @ms-wild-card-56 @shivani1902

[666writingcafe]

Reuniting With Henry

Levi

I've been working on myself lately. It's been a challenge, especially with also having to prepare to venture out into the human world, but I feel like it's been worthwhile.

Instead of spending all of my free time in my room, I've tried to socialize with other people in the real world. Specifically, some of my online friends. I figured that if they liked me in that space, then they'll probably be okay with me in a real-life setting. And for the most part, they do. I mean, there's been a couple of incidents where the opposite has been true, and that was demoralizing in the moment, but then I think about what MC would do or say.

One of the things I like about MC is their willingness to take risks, particularly when it comes to interacting with people. If they worry about looking like a fool, they don't show it. Rather, they allow themselves to be authentically who they are, regardless of what others may think about them.

As I watch MC observe Henry, I reflect on our relationship and how it's progressed. I certainly didn't like them in the beginning. I thought they were just another scummy normie who only cared about themselves. Of course, some of that was probably me projecting what I felt about Mammon onto them, but still. It wasn't like I was a big fan of them, either.

But scummy normies don't insist on befriending someone simply because they like them. They usually want something in return, but not MC. It seemed like the harder I pushed them away, the more persistent they were, but it wasn't obvious at the time. No, it was little things that they did that added up overtime, and soon I couldn't deny it: I liked MC.

Enough to let them chill in my room with me.

Enough to want to experience things outside my comfort zone.

Enough to touch them.

Kiss them.

Fu--

"Levi? Are you alright?" Shit. How long had I zoned out for? Apparently long enough for MC to move on from Henry and start rummaging through a box of games.

"I'm fine," I answer, trying not to sound too startled. "Just thinking, that's all."

"About...?" My anxiety tells me to change the subject, but I won't let it dictate my actions this time. I know MC won't judge me. They've proven that time and time again.

"You."

"Me?" They stand up, and I force myself to step closer to them. They seem surprised, but not in a bad way. At least, I don't think.

"I never thought that I would enjoy spending time with you." I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. "I always have a lot of fun when we're together. I mean, I know we've been playing games online, but it's not the same as having you next to me." MC smiles.

"I feel the same way about you." They reach up and pat my shoulder, and I have to will myself to stay put and not run away. "I'm proud of you, Levi. I know you struggle with admitting your feelings, especially towards me."

"I'm trying to get better at that."

"It takes time." MC pauses as they grab my hand. "The important thing is that you're trying."

They look so sweet.

I know what the moment calls for, but I can't seem to move. At all.

"You're blushing."

"I have to prepare myself." The thought leaves my mouth as soon as it pops into my mind. Thankfully, MC appears to understand what exactly I'm referring to, for they gently touch the side of my face.

"On the count of three?"

"Okay." Did not expect that to come out as a whisper. Then again, my throat feels a bit tight, so that would explain why I sound a bit hoarse.

"One." I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of their hand.

"Two." I take a deep breath, and my mind suddenly becomes clear.

"Three." I don't know which is more surprising: the fact that I'm the one who finished counting or the one who initiated the kiss. In any case, MC embraces me, and the next thing I know, I'm sitting on my computer chair with them straddling my lap.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

All right, I did a post yesterday about the Cowgate incident of 2003, which started because I read the disappointing news that the site of the incident will be closed to the public when I'm in Edinburgh this summer, and I literally read it during a brief period of being awake in the middle of a fever dream. And then of course I made a post about it, because if you wake up in the middle of a fever dream, you always have to post about the real-life incident that most resembles the content of an actual fever dream.

This made me realize it's been a little while since I've actually watched that video, I went through a year or so of re-watching it at least once a week (mainly because it became a go-to re-watch when drunk, particularly near the end of the night when I no longer wanted to focus on anything coherent or longer than a few minutes, personally I'd never want to be at a comedy show while drunk but I do see why they'd do this for a drunk crowd, it appeals to that side of the brain), but I hadn't seen it in six months or so. I thought, I've probably been building this up in my head a bit in the six months of not actually watching it. The idea of Cowgate as a weird drunken fever dream (though one enjoyable thing about it is that besides Adam Hills and the entire audience I'm pretty sure the people involved were sober, as that was sort of the Chocolate Milk Gang's thing, getting their name specifically because they were the only people who didn't get drunk at late-night Edinburgh shows, instead they went for milkshakes across the road) had become a running joke in my mind and sometimes my Tumblr references, but at this point it's more of a symbol than anything else. After writing that post that ran with the joke of it being an iconic violent ritual, I thought it would be fun to spend some of my sick day at home re-watching the actual video, expecting to find that it just looks like relatively expected raucous comedy show shenanigans, not quite as mind-breakingly weird as I remember.

...Guys, it's exactly as I remembered. It's so weird. I've made multiple deep dive Cowgate posts before, but not for at least six months (I think the last time I did it one was for the 20th anniversary, August 26 last year, so almost exactly six months, actually), and I think six months should be long enough to make me allowed to repeat myself on the subject. Because there's almost nothing I haven't said before, but watching it again made me want to say it all again. And I do mean almost - I think I did discover one new detail while watching it between fever dreams yesterday. It's pretty good.

Okay, first of all, here's the video in all its glory:

I cannot emphasize enough how much the first time I came across this it was 2 AM and I had no context for understanding where they were or what was going on. Since then, I have figured out: it's a show called Late 'n' Live. It takes place on many nights throughout the Edinburgh Festival, at a venue called the Gilded Balloon. The Gilded Balloon is owned by Karen Koren. It burned down in 2002 and was rebuilt nearby, this video is from 2003, in the rebuilt venue on Teviot Place. The Late 'n' Live event runs from around 11:30 PM to around 3:30 AM and consists of a bunch of comedians who come on, sometimes to do their own sets and sometimes to do shit like this, managed by a compere, and after that they bring out a band and it turns into a dance floor. At this time, it was known for being a bearpit with a drunk and rough crowd that sometimes got violent. For several years in the late '90s and early '00s, it was famous compered by Johnny Vegas. It was then compered, throughout the early- and mid-00s, by Daniel Kitson. I mean I think there was some crossover, obviously they didn't just have one compere for an entire month and people besides those two guys did it too, some people had to get some sleep at some point. Anyway, these are all things that I know as a direct result of the rabbit hole I went down after finding this video and needing to understand what the ever loving fuck was going on in it. I actually know a lot more than that about Late 'n' Live, but there isn't time for it all right now. I've watched a four-part BBC Scotland documentary series about the history of Late 'n' Live. I watched a Tim Minchin documentary mainly because I like Tim Minchin but a little bit because it had a lot of the Gilded Balloon in it and that was relevant to my Late 'n' Live research. I have an entire folder on my hard drive called Late 'n' Live and it has too many files in it.

One of them's a gif of David O'Doherty throwing his entire body with abandon onto different things at Late 'n' Live in different years: onto Jason Byrne in 2003, onto the floor in 2005, and onto Daniel Kitson in 2007. All clips I found in entirely different sources and decided they needed to be together.

Anyway. I'm getting off topic. Already. Cowgate. The point is Cowgate. I named the incident Cowgate because that's the name of the neighbourhood where the original Gilded Balloon was, and, you know, it was a cow. A cow and what looked like it had to be some sort of scandal. I think it's very clever.

So here's the thing. After I first found that video, which seemed like a tiny relic of one of many moments of one of many nights on one of many years that this stuff went on, and I set about obsessively looking things up for weeks to try to figure out what they were doing, in the process I came across a second video that also happened to capture the same moment. Amazing stuff.

The former video was on the Gilded Balloon's YouTube channel, and seemed to have been filmed officially by the venue staff. This latter one was a montage of videos taken throughout the night by an audience member who apparently had whatever people used to film things at gigs in 2003. Wouldn't have been a camera phone back then.

This video shed a bit of light on some of the essential mysteries of Cowgate, but didn't actually answer many, and to be honest it asked more questions than it answered. Obviously, one of the main questions I had about Cowgate was "Where did the cow come from?" I'd wondered whether the Chocolate Milk Gang had somehow procured it, or whether they took something that was already there. Both options would open up a lot more questions, such as where did they get it, and if it wasn't there because they specifically put it there for the purposes of taking it apart, how did they get permission to take it apart?

The longer video suggests that it's the latter. It shows Daniel Kitson earlier in the night, messing around with the cow the way he might if its presence on stage were a surprise to him as well as to the audience.

The other essential question is "Why did they attack it?", and this earlier scene may suggest a possible reason. From the dialogue, it seems that Kitson jumped on top of it because the crowd told him to, and then the crowd keeps shouting other cow-based challenges at him, and he makes fun of them for suggesting challenges that are too easy (jump off it, touch it, etc.). The video then cuts, but it is possible that he challenged the crowd to ask him to do something difficult with it, and they said to tear it apart, and then it escalated. That scene seems to be from the beginning of the night, and we know the actual Cowgate ritual was the last thing that happened in the night, because right after they finish Kitson brings the band out and that occurs after the comedy ends. So it's possible that they could have come up with the challenge at the beginning, spent a few hours sourcing various weapons, and then done this at the end.

That theory of course brings up other questions, like how they decided on the weaponry. And, again, why they were allowed to do that. The answer to that question depends on where the cow came from, which I still don't know. I once spent a week looking up the International Cow Parade because I thought maybe it was part of that, but I don't think so anymore. It has the word Metro on the side of it, and someone in the YouTube comments called it the Metro cow. So it was probably an advertisement, not an art piece. But I wouldn't have thought your allowed to take apart a company's advertising installation. Maybe it was going to be destroyed after the festival anyway? Also, why was there a cow-based Metro advertisement on the floor at a comedy gig anyway?

I'd like to go through the video in further detail, as I've done many times before, but not for six months so I think I'm allowed a new one, and also I've come up with one (1) new fact (theory) so that's worth doing the whole thing again. I've just spent two days sick in bed, please allow me to indulge in this.

- Right at the beginning, the "three chances" thing still confuses me. That line really suggests that this is a challenge, not just a weird stunt, that they are being tested to see if they can do it. Possibly tested by an audience that was told to come up with a more difficult idea for something the comedians could try with a cow.

But what are the paramatres of the challenge? To take the cow apart, sure, but the "three chances" line implies more specific restrictions. Did they try this two other times earlier in the night and weren't able to do it? Perhaps tried it earlier with fewer weapons? Or did "three chances" mean three people are allowed to work on it? Doesn't seem likely, as Kitson jumped in fairly quickly and made it four.

- Adam Hills sounds like he's referencing something with "literally bottle it". I know "bottle it" is a expression that means "fuck it up", but I don't see how that's literal in this case. Was there a bottle involved? What would bottling it mean in this instance? Failing the audience's challenge? I don't even know for sure that it was an audience challenge, that's just a guess based on the beginning. It could be something else entirely.

- The part where John Oliver, Demetri Martin, and David O'Doherty scurry across the stage like squirrels makes me laugh every time. Why are they all bent over? What are they hiding from?

- David O'Doherty appears to be the only person who came out carrying a weapon. In the first shot of the guys attacking the cow, DO'D is hitting it with a hammer that he presumably brought from backstage. The other two are pulling on it with their bare hands. Then, in a detail I find hilarious, Demetri Marin reaches behind him and grabs what appears to be a chisel off the floor. I guess what probably happened is he did bring that with him from backstage, then put it down, and we just see him pick it back up. But the editing makes it look like he's tried pulling the horns, it didn't work, so he turned around and grabbed the nearest tool, like a character in a video game that just finds useful weapons lying around.

- It also makes me laugh that Adam Hills used his rap-based narration to make sexual jokes about the cow, while Kitson puts his hand over his mouth/in the air like a rapper, to show he's totally on board with this gangsta rap thing, but also, they have shit to and it's (presumably) nearly 4 AM, so the actual content of his lyrics is going to be to give useful practical advice on how to get this job done. Because they're not combining the tools, and you really need to use the chisel and hammer together or it'll never work.

I enjoy the way at this point, John Oliver takes just the briefest break from attacking a facsimile cow with his bare hands to look up Kitson, looking quite impressed with his approach to the situation. "Yes, thank you Daniel, finally some helpful ideas instead of just cowfucking jokes, now let's get that chisel over here."

- It can be hard to see in the darkness, but this whole thing is basically a Kitson and Oliver-oriented plan. Kitson shouts at DO'D to "combine the chisel and the hammer". John Oliver then points like he's directing a play, getting DO'D to bring his hammer to the other side.

DO'D does this, but puts the hammer down on the ground over there, instead of combining it with anything. That's when Kitson taps DO'D on the back like a pretend wrestler tagging in, possibly deciding that if he stays on the sidelines rapping all night, they'll never get this done and be allowed to leave. So he pushes DO'D out of the way, and takes his spot next to John Oliver. Then he reaches down and grabs a random chisel off the ground, again like a video game character. Then he reaches over the cow and picks up the hammer that DO'D has discarded (like a video game character), so he is now combining the chisel and the hammer. At the same time, John Oliver has physically taken the first chisel out of Demitri Martin's hand, and starts working on the same end as Kitson. Now they're getting somewhere.

- This is one of those videos that's funny every time if you keep running it back to watch the same eight seconds over but this time focus on a different person. DO'D tries to get in after Kitson straight-up stole his spot, leans in but can't find an opening, gives up and walks all the way around them both to try the other end of the cow because clearly the Kitson and Oliver dream team have this end sewn up.

- Then, there's a curveball: someone with the word CREW on the back of their shirt comes out of absolutely nowhere, and hands John Oliver a lead pipe, like a character fucking Clue(do, depending where you live). Where did this come from? Do most stages have large bits of piping lying around backstage? Was John Oliver supposed to bring it on stage with him but forgot it so they had to run it out to him? Or did those crew people decide that they're not making enough progress, someone had better find a large pipe and bring it on stage and hand it to John Oliver so we can all go home.

I've been writing this post so far while watching the official video - the one off the Gilded Balloon YouTube channel - but I think you get a much better view of this specific part from the way it was captured in the montage by an audience member. It's another part that I find incredibly funny. John Oliver is methodically working away with Demitri Martin's chisel and his own hands. Then someone hands him a large weapon, and he immediately raises it above his head like a sword and starts whacking the thing full tilt. Scares the shit out of Kitson on one side of him and DO'D on the other. They both jump, Demitri Martin just cautiously circles away.

In the words of a John Oliver bit that is long outdated but lives on in our hearts and my DVD collection... whaky stick. Whacky stick!!!

Kitson, after initially jumping, responds by choosing to imitate John's style, and starts raising the hammer over his own head to attack it with full force in the same way. While DO'D literally cowers in the corner:

And Demitri Martin continues to do what he's been doing since John took his tool away, which is to run his hands over the body of a cow like a mechanic sizing up a car. He has contributed almost nothing to this operation. I don't even think Demetri Martin knows how to take cows apart. Too busy turning letters into numbers and stuff.

- After getting over the initial excitement of waving a pipe around wildly, John Oliver employs the more thought-out strategy of using it like a lever, trying to prise it open at the seam. Kitson gets in beside him and starts attacking this same seam, striking the weak spot repeatedly with the hammer. In the background, DO'D and Demetri Martin appear to try jumping on the thing.

This is the strategy they're still employing the moment the cow finally comes apart:

I've observed this from multiple angles, and at first I thought Kitson deserved the most credit for breaking it, but now I think it was mainly John Oliver's work. Definitely a team effort though (or at least a dual effort, not sure how much the other two helped, though to be fair the bigger boys took their tools away). It comes apart at the exact spot where Kitson was hitting it with the hammer, you can see Kitson give it a hard kick, then one more strike, then put his arms up in celebration as this strike breaks it in half. But I'm pretty sure it was John's leverage from behind him that allowed him to split the thing.

- At this point they all contribute to pulling it the rest of the way apart; Kitson and Martin hold the top half while Oliver and DO'D take out the bottom. This is another part I find very funny - the way they're so matter-of-fact about handing it out to the audience. Look at John Oliver and David O'Doherty marching this across the stage like they're workers delivering a coach or something:

- Then the camera shows the cow being crowd surfed. The YouTube comments say: "The Metro cow got smashed in two and crowd surfed over everyone out the back door". In his lyrics, Adam Hills talks about taking it up the Royal Mile. The Royal Mile is the street outside, so all this suggests that they continued to take the cow outside and down the street. Was that part of the challenge? Was the initial plan to take the thing apart and then have it carried through the streets of Edinburgh? How far did this cow go?

- I have so far compared them to video game characters, board game characters, tag-team pretend wrestlers, a mechanic, and delivery workers. But my favourite thing to compare them to is probably at the end, when they celebrate like football players who've just won a big match.

"Great work everyone, good hustle out there, really pulled together as a team. Okay, now hit the showers. I want to see you all dressed and ready for milkshakes in ten minutes flat."

- There is so much going on in this video that I find it easier to not try to focus on it all at once, I have to do one thing and then backtrack. So now that I've gone through the whole video while looking at what the rest of them were doing, I need to backtrack and go over the lyrics to Adam Hills' song.

Question: Did Adam Hills think he was going to have to do this alone, or was he supposed to have Kitson co-MC-ing, but then Kitson jumped in partway through? Because I think the latter may have happened. Kitson was the compere for the whole night, as we see in the montage video.

Adam Hills If you had three chances Would you take them? Or would you quite literally bottle it?

As I said before: don't know what he's talking about there. What got literally bottled? Why three chances?

His palms are sweaty, his hair is sweaty He's ready to shoot spaghetti He's got a cow on stage It's got red horns, it's all the rage

This is veering wildly off topic, but I just want to mention that that Adam Hills got his off the cuff "stage/all the rage" rhyme because he'd heard DO'D use it in a freestyle rap battle with Daniel Kitson, that we know from the montage took place earlier than night (another one of my favourite videos, but we don't have time to go into this one right now):

It's cow tipping, it's not quite shitty Get that cow down in this city Take it up the Royal Mile, attack it with a hammer Kitson's on the stage, he's [?] with a hammer

Again, how far did the cow go? They had clearly planned from the beginning (of this song, at least) to have it out on the Royal Mile. YouTube comments confirm it left the building.

David O'Doherty's going up the ass It's time to fuck this motherfucking class Fuck the udder (x4) Let's get this udder fucking cow out of here

After all the times I've watched this video, this is the first time I've noticed that Adam Hills tried a pun on "mother fucking" there. Glad he's having a good time.

Daniel Kitson Davey, Davey, what you need to do Is combine the chisel and the hammer

Finally, some useful fucking advice.

Adam Hills There's Martin, Demitri Martin The Perrier win has left me smartin'

This was August 26, Hills' song mentions later that it's the last night of Late 'n' Live for that year, so the Perrier Awards had just been given out. In 2003, Demetri Martin won the main award over other nominees: Reginald D. Hunter, Flight of the Conchords, Howard Read and Little Howard, and Adam Hills. Adam Hills, who had also been nominated the previous year, when he lost to Daniel Kitson, and the year before that, when he lost to Garth Marenghi. So he is actually being, as a YouTube comment said, a pretty good sport to jump in and have fun about it. If I were him I'd probably resent losing out an award again and then not even getting to smash shit up.

John Oliver, he's the man If that pipe won't do it, nothing can David O'Doherty, he comes from Ireland, the land of the green Daniel Kitson, he's got a hammer He's also got one motherfucking stammer

I quite enjoy the way no one responds to any of this. Adam Hills starts calling them out by name, including bringing up Kitson's stutter and DO'D nationality and his awards rivalry with Demetri Martin, and none of them even briefly looks at him. They are all very busy and focused on the important task of destroying a cow.

It's time to break this cow down It's time to break this cow down It's not time to chow down It's time to break this cow down

I want this verse embroidered on a throw pillow. Actually, I think I want these entire lyrics printed out and framed on my wall.

Late 'n' Live, Late 'n' Live, it's the very last night It's time to wrap this show up tight Send it out the front, send it out the... [cow breaks apart] Break the cow, break it in half Lead it out the front to the path

Once again, talk of parading this thing around outside the venue. Where were they taking it?

Karen Koren, she's outside She's got petrol dripping down her eyes There was a fire at the Gilded Balloon The police found no one else was to blame If this season doesn't go well This fucking venue's going up in flames

That, of course, is a reference to the Gilded Balloon's history. It burned down in a fire in December 2002. It's now August 2003, and they're in a new venue that was rebuilt nearby. Karen Koren is the venue's owner. I'm pretty sure Adam Hills is implying that she's going to burn down the new venue if the performers don't do well enough. Actually, he's not implying that, he's outright stating it. What he's implying is that she burned down the first venue, presumably for the insurance money, and she is currently outside ready to burn this one down too, if they perform badly enough to make the insurance money worth more than the shows bring in.

The cow's in half, the cow's in half Let's hear it for the cow in half!

This is like that famous poem that was allegedly written by a child about a tiger breaking out of its cage. Sheer poetry.

Tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning sun goes up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be grey But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad

What's interesting about this is that these are the lyrics to Stan, which is a different Eminem song from the one he was (sort of) singing at the beginning, which was lose yourself. This may or may not be related to the fact that Adam Hills is the only person in this performance who was not a member of the Chocolate Milk Gang, which was a group of comedians known for not getting drunk during or after late-night Edinburgh shows.

It may also be related to the fact that this is a clip of the Edinburgh show that Adam Hills had just spent a month performing:

So he had Stan in his head all month anyway, he was on stage and remembered he was supposed to be singing an Eminem song, his brain told him that the Eminem song he sings on stage is Stan. Fair enough.

Though it's worth noting that those aren't the correct lyrics to Stan either. The Eninem song says the clouds come up the window, not the sun. Why would it be all grey and hard to see if the sun came up the window?

Crowd surf the cow, people.

I want all those lyrics printed out in fancy calligraphy font. And ornately framed. And on my wall.

So that's Cowgate, in case anyone wants to know. But this is just stuff I've said before. I said I had a new detail, didn't I? Well here it is:

Who is that man, sat unobtrusively in the background, playing the percussion set? Of course we have no way of knowing, in such low quality video without any clear shots of his face. Or do we? Because here is a screenshot of Flight of the Conchords, sitting on that very cow, earlier in the same night! (We know it was the same night because it was taken from the montage of the whole night, which ended with a second angle on Cowgate.)

Am I wrong? I might be wrong, tell me if you think I'm wrong. But I think that's Jermaine Clement playing percussion back there. Based on the evidence that: He was there that night. He does play the drums. He's a bona fide member of the Chocolate Milk Gang. And he has the same vague outline and shirt colour as the guy in those screenshots. And he was in the background of the Kitson/DO'D battle rap video, playing guitar, so he does sometime play music to accompany other comedians doing weird shit at Late 'n' Live. My new detail is I think Jermaine Clement was on the stage during Cowgate.

It is cool, really. I mean, I'm obviously being vaguely ironic by treating this late-night comedy show stunt as a vitally important mysterious ritual. But I genuinely think that what happened there is fucking cool, if you look at all those people being on one stage doing something so stupid together, and then consider where they all went after that.

And if Jermaine Clement was there, that just adds to it. The variety and international breadth of all the different comedy careers all in one place just as they were on the cusp of taking off. I mean, by plenty of definitions some had taken off already, but they have all taken off significantly more since then. Almost as though on one night in 2003, they all sacrificed a cow to the gods of success and it worked. Of the main five people involved in the sacrifice rituals, there are three Perrier Awards (Kitson, DO'D, Demetri Martin - though to be fair two of those were won before Cowgate happened so I guess we can't attribute it to the sacrifice), an MBE (Hills), and a shitload of Emmys (Oliver). Which I think they should all bring in for the prize task of the Taskmaster episode that I imagine with those five as the contestants (it's okay, I think this is worth setting racial and gender representation on panel shows back by 20 years), the studio task is to take a cow apart, the winner gets all the trophies.

That's a lot of countries. The Australian Adam Hills, the British Daniel Kitson, the American Demetri Martin, the Irish David O'Doherty, the Kiwi Jermaine Clement, and the now-British/American John Oliver. All with wildly different types of careers. All, for different reasons, among my favourite comedians. I have seen or heard all of the official video or audio stand-up releases by all six of those people (and possibly 1 or 2 or several hundred or so unofficial ones as well). And not because of this video or anything, I sought them out because those are among my favourites and then they were all on stage doing this unhinged thing together.

It's the great mystery of my lifetime, I still want to know where the fuck they got that cow. And I'm genuinely annoyed that I won't be able to see the stage where it happened when I go to Edinburgh this year, but it's all right, I'll look at the outside.

If I ever get to meet any of these people, this is the first question I'm asking. No I don't need to know anything else about your career, just please tell me, what the fuck was going on with that fucking cow in 2003?

[aeoneris]

for archival reasons, and because rise has officially ended, i'm coping by looking back at the past two years and thinking about the master utsushi rabbit hole. this is based on a long reply i sent to a mutual but i think it deserved to have its own post where others can read it and i can expand further on certain details. or something. i don't know. i have no idea who will read this but if you do, please enjoy...

the ballad of master utsushi.

he was there regardless.

always watching.

waiting.

i wound up getting attached to utsushi-kyokan (master/instructor utsushi), ウツハン/utsuhan (utsushi x hunter) ship, and finding his Japanese fan community late 2021, and i've been chatting with mutuals and friends i made there since. at that time, capcom had opened up pre-orders for his nui (plushie). this plush is lovingly referred to as "Unui-kun", and people love to take him around and bring him places. here's my Unui-kun in new york city lol

fans love to dress him up and make clothing and accessories for him. had i known just how attached i would become, i would not have set my Unui-kun to ship via surface mail delivery because it took about 2-3 months extra for him to arrive... ;;

but anyway, it seemed that his popularity was growing because they continued to make more merch of him. he seems to have more than any of the other characters.

many of these are limited print/pre-order only, or were from specific events like the capcom cafe features. trying to get his merchandise became crazy, because scalpers started to pick up on how badly people wanted goodies of him?!

just how popular is this guy?! what's with the character tax!!

and how did this even happen... we're playing monster hunter, not an idol game! but i think it really speaks a lot for itself how rise had such colorful characters that you could get attached to. it seems he really jives with many female and queer players, so good on capcom for that hehe. many of the japanese fans i've met are either older women, very often mothers, or gnc, which i found to be really cool. the english-speaking utsushi fans are usually the same, too. the solidarity is real...

I found out that a lot of ppl, including myself, shared a similar experience: they missed out on a majority of utsushi's flavor text in base rise bc they didn't talk to him or the other NPCs very much during village and high rank quests, and therefore didn't even think much of him until after the fact. people double-taking when going through the game again and actually catching on to his antics... I think what really got things going was when they released his DLC voice and learned about his, uh, extremely affectionate lines towards the hunter when it comes to mew mew and blowing a kiss LOL. (the "welcome back, master!" line?!?! there's so much art of him in a maid outfit... and the way he says ace/manadeshi in his sleep at the table?!?! scandalous?!?!) even for me, he got my attention only once i saw the official art of him (realizing "hey he's got a cute design actually") and eventually encountering utsushi x hunter fanart on pixiv. another thing that got me noticing him was brian david gilbert's now deleted tweet about how zac efron and utsushi are the same. thankfully, we have the internet archive to save the existence of this post and i have to make sure people experience this lost media.

once i realized how weirdly close he was to the hunter, the gears started turning

i confirmed that ppl really did notice that it was unusual for an instructor character to refer to his pupil as "manadeshi (beloved/dearest disciple)" in the manner that he does, being so close to them in a way that felt so familiar and warm. he was already popular enough that by valentine's day 2022, fans literally sent real chocolates to capcom addressed to utsushi. i knew about this for a while, but i was shook that they wound up officially addressing that this really happened during the last update video.

after they received his chocolates, they immediately got one of the (female) illustrators on board to quickly draw that really cute valentine's day art of utsushi. the japanese tweet for that artwork had even a little bit more text than the english one…

that "i'll always be watching over you" line…

(and while i'm here, i have to mention the valentine's day art we got for 2023- i made a separate post about THAT.)

we started to suspect capcom caught on to this niche community's love for utsushi, and they started to kind of... troll us??? LOL.

throughout the previews of sunbreak last year, they would start obsessively sneaking utsushi into those chibi artworks. and when npc followers were announced, people were scrambling to find out if he was going to be one of them, but there also was some weird radio silence about him for a bit...

in one of the earlier trailers that showed the elgado hub for the first time, there was a very short part of the clip where ppl could see someone standing in the distance at the corner of the screen. all the utsushi fans went nuts because they were taking a magnifying glass and zooming up at there wondering if it was really him, because everyone wanted him to be there in sunbreak LOL.

of course we'd eventually find out that would be his perch for most of the game! it was only during the final preview trailer before the release of sunbreak did they finally announce utsushi as a follower, as if they were saving the best for last. and sunbreak dropped, we got to see him in elgado and enjoy hunting with him. and it didn't end there. he wound up being featured in two of the short stories released last summer, and we would not forget this incident.

when i think about how easy it is to just play through the story and miss out on following specific out-of-the-way flavor texts, let alone know about all this outside of the game, i wonder if utsushi joining the hunter in the battle against amatsu in the penultimate battle was strange, because he has such a spotlight on him, even being the one who allows you to ride an apex which was normally impossible. if people didn't acknowledge him before, certainly people would love him now.

his final line after you defeat amatsu: it's cute and silly in english... but in japanese, his line and delivery was extremely, almost unabashedly... romantic. many people were shocked because it sounded like a fervent confession.

"I'll say it once more... You are my pride, my beloved disciple."

finally, during the last update video…

we got this line straight from the director LOL. utsushi wound up being his personal favorite character in rise, and perhaps why we wound up seeing more and more of him in sunbreak.

all in all, if you kept up with the flavor text of rise, and if you followed utsushi's dialogue throughout the base game and expansion, the emotional pay off at the end was even better! and it is a shame when this stuff is mostly optional or you have to go out of the way for it, with so much being missable with every bit of progression. but making a monhun where story and character interactions are pushed more… i think they were on to something. it's probably something that could be divisive, but personally I think they should go all in on it more in the future. Rise proved that they could make charming and memorable (not to mention, named) characters... if they lean into it more in a future entry, then i hope they do it in a way where everyone can enjoy it and not feel like they missed out. but I also hope they would make it so that people don't feel overwhelmed with flavor text... it comes down to taste, but i think i have faith that monhun can try making more character-driven stories while still keeping the core of the series in tact.

here are some more miscellaneous utsushi things that i didn't know how to fit in earlier:

he's been featured multiple times in capcom cafe entrees. here's his matcha latte dango drink:

and for the sunbreak stories: a cake based on his fight with rathalos together with the royal guard, and then a drink that represents his... uh, struggle across the ocean to chase the hunter to elgado. because they will never let him live that down. i won't either.

here's a t-shirt of utsushi and kagami you can pick up on amazon right now. kagami was a very interesting arc when he was first shown- he was introduced as a long time friend of utsushi, training together in the past, but eventually parting ways.

his seiyuu in japanese is a sentai actor who loves monster hunter, so essentially, kagami is lowkey like a self-insert for him lol. he's goofy in english because he's voiced by a certain youtuber, but in japanese he takes a different direction of silly because he has a "chuunibyou" edgelord cringe way of talking. it's such a shame that kagami wasn't really in the game itself besides being mentioned in a few mission descriptions because i would've loved to see him interact with utsushi and the hunter, and i wish the royal knights and many of the NPCs had more cutscenes or something. it makes me think, if it weren't for the pandemic, could rise's story and scenario have been something more because of the DLC voice characters like hibasa/monju/kagami? anyway, a popular headcanon is that utsushi and kagami are ex-boyfriends lol (i personally like this one and adapted it for my utsuhan fanfics). but there are even those who ship kagautsu too (although it is rare because people overseas are a little wary of shipping characters who are based on real people).

and lastly, one of my personal favorites... the diseased kyokan shirt. this is from an online capcom shop, and you can use a proxy service like fromjapan.com to order it.

if you read this all, thank you! happy hunting! with the instructor! we love that guy! the guy of all time!

[specialinterestshows]

Taking a break from the reader’s perspective as my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic temporarily becomes a Damian Priest x Finn Balor smut (just for this chapter).

Warnings for this section: Cannabis (weed) mention, dirty talk

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Absolute Smokeshow (Part 51 of ?): A Prince And His Archer

Holding hands in the back seat with Damian, Finn kept looking at the man he couldn't believe he had let himself get this close to - occasionally catching Rhea grinning at the two of them in the rearview mirror. Somehow, her knowing looks seemed to bother him less, he realized, giving Damian's hand a small squeeze and smiling. He couldn't stop thinking of what had happened just prior to their small road trip...

"Tell me why we need to be this far from everyone else?" Finn had groaned, following Damian through the parking lot to the rental car. At the time, Finn had written off Damian's giddiness and secretive behavior as a result of him having just smoked - Damian’s eyes were certainly red enough.

“What I have to say isn't for anyone else to hear," Damian said, moving to slide onto the hood of the car before Finn grabbed him by the arm.

"Watch the rental!" he snapped, pulling Damian away from the vehicle, "If you’re gonna sit somewhere, how about the seats in the damn car?"

Instead of responding, Damian looked down and smiled when he confirmed that Finn had yet to let go of his wrist. Eyes following Damian's, Finn blushed before dropping his grip on Damian’s arm. Still grinning, Damian unlocked the car and opened a door to the back seat, sliding in and waiting for Finn to join him. Hesitating, Finn briefly wondered why they weren't sitting in the front seats, but the curiosity as to what Damian wanted to talk about made him join the man anyway.

Finn ducked into the car and closed the door behind him before asking, "Now what's so damn important?"

"Mira, I know I haven't been easy to work with lately," Damian began, pausing when Finn scoffed at the understatement before continuing, "And I've been acting like it's your fault, but it's not - this is all me."

Finn looked surprised at Damian owning up to his actions, crossed arms relaxing and expression softening as he kept listening after Damian let out a sigh.

"I've been... in denial about some things- some... feelings," Damian cleared his throat, heart pounding - it was clear that this was more difficult to admit than he realized, but still he took a deep breath and said, "Te quiero. Te amo."

I want you. I love you. No, surely Finn had mistranslated... but then he recalled the way Dominik looked at Rhea when he said those same things, his eyes full of love. Looking up, Finn blushed as the realization hit him that Damian was now gazing upon him with the same passion in his eyes. Somehow, instead of panic or disgust or even indifference, Finn felt a bit stunned but somehow also... hopeful?

"Can you, um, run that by me again?" Finn asked, trying to suppress a grin, face growing warmer by the second.

"I said," Damian whispers as he leans in closer, "I love you. And I want you."

Chills ran up Finn's spine and, before he knew it, he had bridged the gap between himself and Damian. The feeling of Damian's lips pressed against his, smiling into the kiss, sent a small rush of desire through him. Once Finn bit the other man's lower lip, Damian let out a pleased growl and the sound was enough for Finn to stop holding himself back. Hands moving up Damian's shirt, Finn reached the collar before ripping it down the front.

"Could've asked," Damian muttered between lip bites and rough kisses.

"Didn't wanna stop," Finn grunted, referring to the making out as his hands run along the taller man's muscular chest.

Gripping Finn by the hair and pulling away, Damian looks deep into Finn's eyes before smirking, "Not even if I want to put my mouth somewhere else?"

Finn's raised eyebrows and dropped jaw in response to the offer made Damian chuckle, "You need to tell me if that's a yes."

"Definitely a yes," Finn says, causing Damian to pull him in for one more rough kiss before letting go of his hair. Finn eagerly unbuttoned his own pants before sliding them down, along with his underwear.

"Que bueno," Damian growled once Finn's dick sprung up out of his briefs, "Hard for me already."

With one smooth motion, Damian lowered his head down onto Finn, taking the entire length of his dick into his mouth at once.

"Fuck," Finn moaned, hands moving to grip Damian's long, dark hair as he began bobbing his head up and down slowly. Lost in the pleasure of how Damian's mouth felt, Finn didn't notice him wipe off a bit of drool that dripped down from his mouth before bringing one wet finger up to Finn's asshole. The sudden, toe-curling sensation of Damian teasing his entrance makes Finn cry out and start thrusting into Damian's mouth, grip tightening on his hair.

Damian couldn't help but moan around Finn when he heard the man make noises he'd never heard from him before. The vibration made Finn's eyes roll in the back of his head, pleasure building rapidly.

"Getting close," Finn whimpered, realizing he wouldn't be able to stop himself from coming, though he was trying to delay it.

Damian flicked his tongue around Finn as he came hard, the world around him vanishing. For a few glorious seconds, Finn existed in a universe of pure ecstacy.

Once Damian had swallowed and Finn had loosened his grip, riding small aftershocks, Damian moved his hand to grab Finn's ass instead, slowly pulling his head away.

"Tan lindo," Damian sighs, looking down at Finn, "I love the noises you make, pretty boy."

"Oh hush," Finn says, looking away and blushing, embarrassed by how quickly he came.

"Not a chance," Damian grins, leaning in and kissing Finn's warm cheek.

"Sorry 'bout your shirt," Finn mumbles, looking down at Damian's bare chest.

"Don't be," Damian says, pulling it off, "But I'm borrowing yours to go back and get the others."

"Go for it," Finn says, starting to remove his shirt, "I need a minute. Or ten."

"Hey guys," Dominik giggled from the passenger's seat, breaking Finn out of his reverie, "Does- does this mean we're the Judgment Gays?"

"Boooo," Damian says as Rhea gives a short laugh.

"Oh come on, that was a good one!" Dom protested.

Finn looked over at Damian again, smiling when he saw Damian was already looking at him.

"I love you," Finn whispered, squeezing Damian's hand.

"Gaaaaay," Dominik said, then "Ow!" when Rhea smacked the back of his head, making Finn and Damian laugh.

[end part fifty-one of ?]

Part 52: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/730308673200635904/absolute-smokeshow-part-52-of-vibe-together

-

Tag List (thank you!)

@cherryberryshine , @littlemiss-fanficlover , @elisewithak , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domlynch

[famwhy]

Hello again, sorry for sending another message so soon after my previous one, but rereading your reply to my ask gave me two new mental images I figured I would share with you before the storm we are supposed to get where I live rolls in, assuming it does.

Idea one is, and this is partly born out of me being a fan of react fics, how do you think the Valkyries would react to a child or teenage reader from a post-apocalypse world like Fallout? For example, they summon the reader to them, only to see the tiny form of a child clad in makeshift armor, a revolver in their hands and a slightly mutated dog standing at their side.

How would they react to the countless scars that line their body, from laser and bullet and bade and claw and fang?

Be they mature or young, the readers body is a macabre piece of gruesome art, the scars telling the tale of their desperation to survive amidst a world that is in its final throes.

How would they react to the reader not knowing just what green grass is, let alone what unpolluted and un-irradiated water is?

Their stories of the dead and dying world, and of their desperate struggles to find not only semi-safe drinking sources, but also the medicine to contend with the radiation present in those sources of water, making many hide their tears.

How would they react to the tales of slavers and raider, of mutants and other horrors that roam the wastes, to the tales of nightmarish beasts and close calls with said beasts that nearly denied them this fated meeting?

And how would they react to the holotapes the reader brings with them that shed yet further light on the stygian world they come from, said holotapes being from the Storyteller series by Shoddycast.

The second one is a bit more self indulgent, but imagine that just as the Valkyries are protective of the reader, the reader is likewise protective of them because these girls have been through enough and they are not letting anyone talk down to them.

The example in question being the Genshin acolytes talking down about the Valkyries, only for the reader to come out of nowhere and just starts tearing into them both physically and verbally while everyone else watches in stunned silence.

In addition to this, the reader and the Valkyries are basically a giant found family and tend to act like one, much to the acolytes confusion. They are also fond collapsing in cuddle piles because dammit these girls deserve pampering and love.

Again, sorry for the word salad, I am half asleep at the moment lol. But I am supposed to be due a storm tomorrow and I figured I would send this in case it is bad enough I can not get on my computer tomorrow. I have a few more things to do, then I am calling it for tonight, stay safe and take care.

Hello! - and don't worry, you're not too much of a bother. If anything, I'm sorry for taking so long to respond, I've been really busy lately haha

I'm not too big of a fallout fan and know next to nothing about the game except for that one reference in Henry Stickmin but I could definitely comment based on your descriptions.

I'd assume that the valkyries wouldn't really react much to a reader from an apocalyptic world since the world of Honkai itself is a post-apocalyptic world. (Now, there may be spoilers if you haven't gotten too far in the story yet but) Mei, herself, meets a character that's basically wrapped in bandages and injuries from head-to-toe and doesn't react very much to the injuries because she's used to it. The valkyries themselves make it look easy but honkai creatures are no joke and have caused many to die - hence why organisations like Schicksal and Anti-Entropy were formed in the first place.

I'm pretty sure that people can also turn into zombies because of Honkai too so the girls are plenty experienced when it comes to apocalypses (let's not even mention Otto himself).

They might not be able to show Reader any sights like green grass if Reader is summoned around the endgame time but they have gone through hardships too and would be able to help Reader cope through their trauma. Definitely will be a whole lot of cuddles too.

As for your second idea, I love it! Just so many cuddles all around along with a fluffy and warm vibe that the poor girls deserve after so much anguish and heartache.

You be sure to take care too!

[lhs3020b]

Technology in Faerun

This is a) an extremely "me"-ish post, b) one you basically have to be me to care about and c) also EXTREMELY spoilery, especially for Act III of Baldur's Gate 3.

Still, this is a topic I've been thinking about, and you're reading my Tumblr (so sorry!), so here we go...

On the one hand, the tech level in BG3 does seem to be oriented more around "rule of cool" than anything else. But on the other, there are some interesting little details, and perhaps (while it's subtle) a hint or two in-game of a scenario that fits it all together.

First of all, for maximum whiplash, should you get into the prison underneath the House of Hope, you'll have a complex battle involving magic, bladed weapons, bows and so on ... and in the background you can watch the Saturn V-style rocket motors that hold the whole complex up in the air over Avernus. No, really, you literally can. Here's a relevant screenshot:

It even looks like the Saturn V engine, you know?

(Apparently Raphael - or perhaps Hope - has done some really interesting work on in-flight stability and fuel injection; the House of Hope has remarkably-minimal turbulence and there's no hint of any kind of asymetrical thrust issues. Anyway.)

Across most of the game, the technology level seems to be vaguely late-medieval/early-Renaissance, though with a few interesting oddities. (I can't recall seeing a single horse anywhere in the game - which, interestingly, may also explain why the lance is a weapon-class that's not present.)

The first hint that this wasn't the entire situation came in, of all places, the hospital in Reithwin. You find an elevator there that's strongly-implied to be electric. It's located in an area where the shadow curse is strong enough to put fires out, which also would presumably prevent steam-driven systems, but it still works, and it even has glowing lights on it. Also, and I guess this is the money shot, if you look closely, the machinery emits sparks when it's in motion. Like badly-maintained electrics might. Also, inside the operating theatre, if you look carefully on top of some of the bookcases, there are things that look remarkably-similar to early, crude electric filament lamps. Granted they might not be that - none of them are operational, anyway - but, it's an interesting possibility.

But there's more. If you explore far enough in the Underdark, you'll find an abandoned wizard's tower. In the basement, there's a machine canonically-called a generator; feed it sussur blossoms and it powers up the whole building. You actually get treated to a cutscene of all the lights coming on and the elevator waking up. You can also find a note in the building referring to the work of one of its former occupants, and their "lightning inventions".

Well. Lightning. There we have it - they canonically do have electricity at least in a few places in Faerun. The means by which it's generated, at least at the tower, in interesting. It's not quite spelt out, but the most notable property of the sussur tree is its anti-magic field, so this kind of implies that the generator is somehow using this to produce electricity. (It also implies a connection between electromagnetism and magic - Faerun's physics model must be "fun"!) Elsewhere in the Underdark there's also something that looks suspiciously like a railway line, albeit one that's inoperative. Later on, if you explore far enough into the Underdark, you'll find the Grymforge, which while obviously at least partly-magical in character, is also clearly a rather-advanced piece of machinery.

The biggest surprises, though, come in Baldur's Gate itself.

Inside the Steel Watcher factory, you find things like this:

Wiring, pipes, cybernetics, glowing bulbs, spinny vaguely-dynamo-ish things ... while the vibe is all "dark and Satanic mills", it's also kind of turn-of-the-20th-Century too. This isn't medieval technology here. This is stuff that's not so far removed from what we use.

And interestingly, it's not just restricted entirely to this location, either. If you find your way into the Counting House vaults, you can find a note warning against using "devices powered by bottled lightning" inside the main vault, due to flooding. Bottled lightning - OK, so the bank apparently has power too! But then, the alarm systems in the main area do look suspiciously-electrical in some ways ... now, if only they could get their plumbing sorted out!

However, the pockets of semi-modern technology do seem to be quite localised. Most of what there is seems to be either highly-experimental (a powerful wizard's personal science project) or associated with powerful and wealthy institutions in the big city. And even there, the most advanced systems seem to be associated with the Gondians and their work. There also seems to be a suggestion that these innovations are quite new, and there doesn't seem to be have been many attempts to scale or mass-produce the equipment. The one exception to this pattern might be Reithwin, but the game strongly suggests that pre-curse Reithwin was a prosperous place, and on a main trade route to Baldur's Gate too, so it's entirely-plausible that the local elite might have been able to benefit from new ideas in the metropole. Perhaps the House of Healing in Reithwin was able to acquire a few very early prototypes from the Gondians' workshops, just before the curse fell? That could explain the elevator, and what I suspect are filament lamps?

As for the lack of wider advancement in Baldur's Gate itself, honestly I think we can pin the blame for this one directly on the city's horrifyingly-toxic politics. Gortash is a devotee of the God of Tyranny, so of course he doesn't want to share his toys. The city is allowed to have just enough advanced industry to support his plans for his dictatorship, but of course he's not going to share that power with the wider population! (The Counting House is presumably a special case for this rule - I wouldn't be surprised if there's quite a complex dynamic of power-balancing between Gortash and the financiers, but it is in his interests to share some things with "the money", if you will.)

Lastly, another factor might be that most of the actual R&D work seems to be happening either with the followers of specific gods - such as Gond! - or various wizards. What we see of their world is rather mixed - many wizards are awful (hi, Lorroakan!), though there are exceptions too (overall Rolan is, ultimately, a decent person). They don't seem to tend to work together, and as far as I've seen, there doesn't seem to be any equivalent of a university system or public education system. If a wizard dies, it seems quite possible their research might die with them, which is surely going to put a crimp on development! Meanwhile, with regards to the more "industrially-minded" gods like Gond, who knows how willing they are for their devotees to share their work widely? (Let's face it, a lot of Faerun's deities kinda suck - Gale has a point when he warns against seeking divine intervention, I think.)

Anyway, food for thought...

[itsjustthechems]

Excerpt from the fic I'm working on about Deacon's origin story (spoilers!)

If you haven't reached max affinity with Deacon, this post contains spoilers about his final affinity dialogue.

This fic is going to cover his time as a gang member in the University Point Deathclaws, meeting and falling in love with Barbara (who I've decided is a caravan trader), avenging her murder, and finding his place in the Railroad. Later chapters will include his escapades with my fem!Sole Survivor OC, Georgie. Or maybe I'll just post drabbles and random chapters out of order, lol. Who knows. Anyway, enjoy this little excerpt, and let me know if anyone would be interested in reading more.

Context for this scene: Deacon is about 20 here - nearly two decades before the events of the game. Keep in mind that he is young, stupid, and brutal with ass-backwards views at this point in his life. He was sent on a dangerous solo mission to purloin munition from a poorly-manned Gunner stash in Jamaica Plain (a careless decision by the reckless leader of the Deathclaws), and Barbara's trading partner has fallen ill, leaving her to manage business on her own. He encounters her being harassed by a chem addict shaking her down for a fix, and the encounter turns violent. Afterwards, since night has fallen, they hole up together in an empty house, eager to avoid any further conflict until sunrise.

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“Hey.” Barbara’s voice was soft and tentative, an abrupt change from the goofy timbre of her storytelling.

“Howdy.”

“Thank you for…not killing that guy earlier. He would have had it coming to him, but I’m glad you let him live.”

Deacon froze. That guy didn’t bite it? That was news. She must have seen him still breathing before they fled the scene. “Anytime, toots. For you, I’d let a thousand slimy crooks live.”

The air fell silent and somber, and he hoped to Atom that his feigned flirtatiousness didn’t set her off. He tried to be clearly ingenuine when he made those jokes to her. The fact that she was alone, vulnerable, and holed up with, well, a slimy crook wasn’t lost on him. He knew the sort of fear and disgust he probably instilled in her. Much to his relief, she gave a quiet snort and let it slide.

“I’m serious, though. I want you to know that it doesn’t go unnoticed when you do the right thing. You’ve been cleaning up your act lately and I…I like it.” Her usual eloquence was clearly stunted by the liquor, bashful awkwardness on full display for his enjoyment. Boy, did he enjoy it.

“Yeah?” He egged her on with a chuckle, hoping she’d keep rambling. Preferably about him. If all it took to earn a little attention from her was not swiping from other traders in front of her - which was clearly the new habit she was referring to, then he’d gladly take the threats and glares it earned him for coming back to camp empty-handed. So what if it made him look soft? He wasn’t soft! Or maybe she was talking about that time he’d thrown a kid a few caps to buy an issue of Grognak the Barbarian off her...uh oh.

“Yeah.” Her cheeks burned pink as she studied the floor like she was going to be quizzed on it later. “Knowing you, it’s probably some kind of elaborate prank that you’re pulling on me, but I hope that isn’t the case. Integrity looks good on you.”

“Thanks, I suppose, but I’m unfamiliar with this ‘integrity’ you speak of. Is it French?”

Barbara groaned, the couch creaking in protest as she fell against the back of it, looking dramatically defeated. He took that as encouragement to continue, his grin wide and shit-eating.

“Besides, everything looks good on me. As a matter of fact, you should see me in my birthday suit.”

He watched smugly as she tilted her head back up to fix him with a glare, though it lacked any malevolence. The glare was brief and gave way to an expression of discomfort, or perhaps anxiety.

There’s the nausea, Deacon thought. Heh. Lightweight. If he wasn’t close enough to smell the spirits on her breath, he would attribute the cause of her sudden queasiness to his jokes, but he knew she rarely drank, let alone straight liquor.

He grunted and pitched forward onto his feet to fetch her some kind of receptacle to defile instead of her own clothes and bedroll, but to his bewilderment, he was met with a hand on his chest, tipping him back to his seated position before her. Oh. She’s not sick at all.