#am off to bed now as of finishing this intro post

[tangsvem]

Hello there. I am Tangsvem.

Call me Tangs or Novem!

This acc is for my more nsfw stuff(main is very non-nsfw) of Hermitcraft Traffic series and such. Also do art of my OCs

Will say very shit at nsfw drawings and this is for more indulging in nsfw shit but separate it from main

Though I will say I’ll stay away from minor/adult stuff(it generally makes me feel uncomfortable but like a year or so age gap yeah sure fine).

I use any pronouns!

Send asks! Would love to chatter!

#tangsart - art post

#vemchatter - normal chatter

#tangsOCS - my OCs

And that’s all for now I believe?

[vettelsvee]

DO YOU REALLY WANT US TO TRY? | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | ask me anything or let's talk! history series masterlist

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 7265

summary: having the day off from the shootings of the documentary they're shooting about their years in formula 1, so seb decides not only to take y/n on a date in new york, but also to try for another baby

warnings: smut: female masturbation, male masturbation, fingering, oral sex (female receiving, male receiving), p in v without protection (wrap it before tap it!). bad language, curse words, translated german. based on january 2023

a/n: (you can read this while listening to maroon by taylor swift bc oh my) this is one of the extra fics i'm gonna be posting of history series! first volume on the series, meeting, will be posted as soon as i finish writing the first chapter so you can enjoy the same day both the intro, the prologue and chapter 1 🔥 feedback and reposts are truly appreciated, and also comments! thank you for all the support lately, you don't know how much it means to me <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The dawn light, painting the New York sky in pink and orange, began to filter through the windows partially covered by semi-transparent curtains.

You laid peacefully in bed, on your right side, immersed in a light sleep. Your hair sprawled across the pillow, and your breathing was calm, synchronized with the movement of your chest. A faint smile adorned your lips, possibly reflecting a pleasant dream involving you, your husband and your little ones.

Sebastian gradually woke up, his half-asleep eyes first meeting the serene face of you illuminated by the emerging sunlight.

"Good morning, my love," Vettel whispered, trying not to startle you.

You didn't react, still lost in your peaceful nocturnal fantasy. A tender expression crossed the German's face as he leaned gently to kiss your forehead, taking utmost care not to wake you.

Your day in New York held many plans, and all he wanted you was to be as rested as possible.

"Mmm," you murmured, slightly more aware now. "Seb..."

Sebastian's gaze focused on your lips, but he didn't want to overwhelm you. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheek to your jaw, chin, and even focusing on your neck, well aware that such gestures often led to a morning session of intimacy you had enjoyed many times before.

You mumbled sleepily but became a bit more conscious of your surroundings.

"That was nice, but could you let me sleep a bit more, please?" you asked.

Sebastian smiled, settling closer to you, resting his head on the pillow and letting it rest on his right hand, aligning with your level.

"I think it's already time to wake up, love," he said, gently caressing your cheek. "How about you let me wake you up properly?"

You, as if engaged in a playful banter, slowly opened your eyelids. You blinked leisurely, letting your light eyes adjust to the ambient light, a playful smile forming as you realized how close your husband was.

"What do you mean by waking me up properly?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued and emphasizing the last word.

Sebastian didn't reply. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, initiating a tender and longer kiss than initially intended. Afterward, he focused on every part of your tired face once again.

"Like that."

"Are we playing Disney princesses as if we were with the girls?" You teased, your cheeks turning slightly red. "Am I supposed to be Sleeping Beauty or what?"

Sebastian chuckled sincerely, admiring the innocence with which you, his wife, sometimes spoke due to the games you played mostly with your daughters throughout the day. Since becoming parents, you both knew your were reliving a second childhood, something you particularly loved as you had become the mother you always wanted to be, but you never got to have.

"Something like that, yes," Vettel replied. "Who could resist the incredible task of waking up a princess? Well," he corrected himself, "you’re not a princess anymore as I'm afraid to say you’re my queen."

"I haven't been awake for five minutes and you're already acting like your 2010 self! Yes, don't laugh, Seb! The one who didn't know what to do with his life and how to get rid of all the crap falling on him," you recalled. "And there was quite a lot, especially, and who flirted with every walking female being."

"But you loved him because, thanks to him, you ended up falling in love with me," Sebastian added with sarcasm. "Besides," he continued, "don't act like you've never put a foot wrong in your life. You weren't an angel a year later either."

Before you could retort, Sebastian moved aside the sheets covering him from the waist down to get out of bed. He put on his slippers and, with a mischievous smile, headed to the apartment's kitchen you had rented for your stay in the city.

"What are you doing, Sebastian Vettel?" demanded you to know, trying not to fall back asleep and figuring out what was going on in the man's head.

A playful smile appeared on Sebastian's face as he turned to you. You were watching him with considerable curiosity.

"It's a surprise, sweetheart," he commented, quickly returning to you, planting a kiss on your forehead and covering you a bit more with the sheets.

"You've got me intrigued," you said drowsily, yawning, "so don't take too long, or I'll fall back asleep."

Sebastian returned to the small space, leaving you confused and stretching in bed. Once in the kitchen, the former driver began gathering everything needed for a simple breakfast, given that his culinary skills were not the best but good enough to impress his wife. Soft sounds of utensils and plates clinking filled the air, along with the gradually brewing aroma of coffee, enough to fully awaken you. Nothing delighted you more than the scent of that brown beverage you loved, wafting through your nostrils.

You sat up slowly, leaning against the padded backrest. A few minutes later, you heard footsteps approaching. Sebastian appeared at your bedroom entrance carrying a tray filled with fresh fruits in an unevenly cut bowl, a buttered toast with peach jam, and a cup brimming with coffee, featuring a failed attempt at a heart. Additionally, there was a vase with some dried flowers that Sebastian had secretly bought the day before from a nearby florist.

"What's all this? Are we celebrating something?" you asked, completely impressed by the wonderful wake-up Seb had prepared for you. "Or is there something you want to tell me, and you don't know how?"

He carefully placed the tray on you lap, trying not to spill anything and cause a mess. Sebastian then sat beside you gently, positioning himself close enough to you but giving enough space for you to enjoy breakfast without feeling overwhelmed.

"I just wanted to make something special for the most special woman in my life," the blonde clarified.

"It's surreal that you've done this for me," you admitted. "Are you sure you're not going to ask me for a divorce or anything like that?" you added while taking a piece of bread with your hands and bringing it to your mouth.

"I thought the nonsense of wanting a divorce was a thing of the past," Sebastian replied. "Besides, this is the simplest thing in the world, love. Remember when I taught you to drive?" You nodded, eating slowly. He had given you quite a hard time, although in the end he became your best driving instructor. "Or when you got so obsessed with Moulin Rouge that I threw you a themed birthday party where you were Satine, I was Christian, and we spent the whole night singing after I spent days learning every single song Ewan McGregor sang in the movie?"

"You looked handsome as fuck in that outfit, and everyone had a great time," you said, recalling that day as if it were yesterday. "Although we didn't enjoy it as much when Mick and that girl he dated, Lara, who clearly intended to sleep together, caught us in bed together ."

The German rolled his eyes, trying to forget the scene where he had you sitting on his face, your face down focused on his penis giving him a blowjob, and the ex-couple, wearing only their underwear, entering the same room where you were.

He didn't want to remember that date even if they paid him all the money in the world, or if they even told him that climate change would end.

"Well," you continued, realizing that Sebastian didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Then you tell me what's all this for."

"Since we had the day off today, I wanted to do something special with you," Sebastian explained. "I know we have to get up at five tomorrow because we need to be at the studio around seven, so I didn't plan anything big," he apologized. "Sorry."

"Spill it, don't leave me in suspense," you said, now holding the fruit bowl in one hand and the fork in the other.

"What if we go to Central Park and spend the day there, sweetheart?"

You lifted your gaze from the coffee, surprised by the suggestion. Then, you smiled at her husband.

"Central Park is always a good plan, especially when it's with you,”  you replied cheerfully. “I like that it's something calm," you confessed, quite happy. "Mr. and Mrs. Vettel need, every now and then, a bit of calm in their lives."

Even though you hadn't finished eating everything Sebastian had prepared for you, you made a move to get up and get dressed. However, he asked you nicely to sit back down and wait for a moment.

"I have something for you," he declared affectionately, thinking about how you would react to the two surprises he had prepared, especially the first one.

Quickly, with your watchful eyes on him, he approached the built-in wardrobe in one corner of the room and took out a small bag containing an envelope and a small box wrapped in Christmas-themed wrapping paper.

"I know it's not the right time for me to give you this," Sebastian explained, pointing to the box, "but I'm sure you'll love what's inside. I couldn't give it to you with the girls around," he revealed, "or they would want to copy their mother, especially Emily. I still think they are too young for that."

You were puzzled by what the German had just said. As he offered you the box, you took it carefully in your hands. Slowly, you unwrapped it, avoiding tearing the wrapping hastily and removing the pieces of tape one by one, even though excitement was eating you.

Once you removed the wrapping, you saw what appeared to be the back of a toy box. When you turned it around you realized you were right and started screaming and jumping on the bed. Then, you ran towards Seb and gave him a tight hug, one of the ones she loved.

"Oh my God, sunshine. I can't believe it!" you exclaimed, completely thrilled. "I know I'm an adult, a mother with responsibilities," you specified, counting with your fingers, "but you've fulfilled my childhood dream!"

Sebastian laughed at your reaction, something that he was already expecting from you. As you became closer in 2008, you talked about childhood toys and that kind of stuff people usually talk about when they meet. You revealed that you had always wanted a Tamagotchi but, due to your family's economic situation, they couldn't buy you one. Your surprise came when Emily, your eldest daughter, asked for one last Christmas. Since then, he often caught you playing with it whenever your eldest ignored it or got bored of it.

He loved seeing you so excited about something as simple as a gadget with a virtual pet or whatever was inside.

"I thought you'd like to have one for yourself," Seb raised an eyebrow. "Considering how often you take it from your eldest daughter..."

You avoided his comment. Instead, you eagerly tore open the box and, once the device was out, you stopped to examine it in detail, trying not to let it slip from your trembling hands. You felt a rush of emotions running through your body, transporting you back to your childhood, remembering every detail you had experienced with your family and the ones that you didn't have around anymore.

But now you had a new family, your own family, and that was what you clung to in moments when you wondered why almost all your loved ones had somehow left you behind.

"And what's the other thing?"

You discreetly pointed, ignoring your feelings as you stepped away from your husband, to the envelope he held in his hands. You tried to reach it, but it was in vain: Sebastian, even just slightly, was taller than you.

"Oh, this?" he said. "It's nothing. Just tickets to go to the theater to see the Hamilton musical."

You opened your mouth completely in shock.

"And you say it so calm?!" you exclaimed, moving towards your husband again. "You're the most utterly unexpressive person I've ever met in my life, Vettel."

"Go get dressed, come on," he avoided that comment, heading towards the front door, grabbing his jacket, and after putting it on, he took the keys to the residence. "I'm going grocery shopping for the wonderful picnic we're going to have today."

"But what picnic are we going to have if it's winter!" you shouted, somewhat puzzled. "Sebastian Vettel, I swear to God that if I catch a cold and, on top of that, when we come back we give it to the girls, I won't be the one staying home to take care of them!"

He left the apartment laughing, closing the door behind him, leaving you to come up with wild theories about what you were going to do. It seemed you knew him very little.

Did you not know that, for him, a picnic always ended up meaning taking you to eat somewhere quiet in the city?

[...]

After almost two weeks of the History recordings, where you had only worn the most formal clothes possible, from almost gala dresses to uncomfortable pencil skirts that remind you of your days working for Red Bull as a intern and, then, as a race engineer, you could finally wear something you could describe as comfortable.

You had always been used to dressing casually except for the years you worked at Red Bull, where you often felt like you were on a fashion runway. So, for a stroll in the most famous park in New York and even for a night at the theater, you decided to wear slightly tight jeans that easily hugged your curves, hidden under a well-worn oversized sweater from your pregnancies. You left your hair, a bit longer than she was used to in recent years, loose, with its natural waves. You also wore tiny pearl-shaped earrings, your father's watch on your left wrist and white Converse shoes.

For Sebastian, an overshirt and a t-shirt hidden under his jacket, along with pants and Adidas sneakers, were more than enough. He wore that almost always, and no matter how many times you told him that it seemed like that outfit had become his uniform, he refused to change it.

And thank goodness he doesn't wear the famous headband, you criticized in your mind. How embarrassing. 

It had been almost three hours since you left your rented apartment and had done quite a few things, although it was nothing extraordinary. First, you walked hand in hand through the park, avoiding athletes and talking about trivial matters. Then, you started feeding ducks in a small pond with a loaf of bread Sebastian had specifically bought for that. You also decided to approach a group of elderly people playing chess to chat with them for a while. Older people were your weakness, and you felt sorry for most of them. You even ended up playing a few games while listening to them talk cheerfully about their lives, sharing some trivial details about yours at the same time.

When you set out for the famous picnic, they decided to call Amelie, your middle sister, to check on your kids. The moment the girl answered the call, the couple could momentarily see the desperation she was feeling:

"I swear tonight has been a disaster," the girl commented in German. "Matilda, at eleven at night, wanted to get into the pool with her Little Mermaid costume to swim and go to the magical kingdom of I don't know what," she expressed angrily, gesturing with her free hand. "Then, Emily wanted to play with your simulator, Seb, and ended up crying because I told her she needed your permission, but you were working and you couldn't give it to her," the mentioned one nodded, gesturing to his sister to continue. "And to top it off, George and Mick ended up falling asleep, leaving me in charge of two little devils."

“And what about aunt Johanna?,” you asked abruptly, leaning closer to the phone. Sebastian could sense your getting nervous, so he quickly took your hand and started caressing it with his thumb.

Amelie sighed, and you even heard a few muttered curses.

"Don't talk to me about your them, Y/N," the girl almost shouted. "They promised me they'd be here around eight, but uncle Hans ended up calling me a few hours later, drunk as a skunk, to tell me they went to a fancy dinner with some of their workmates and couldn't make it home."

"So, you've become the boss of everything, huh?" you commented with humor.

"Sadly."

The family conversation continued. As the minutes passed and you got closer to the place Sebastian had chosen for your meal that day, his parents joined them, having decided to take care of the youngest of the family, your baby boy Carl, while you were out. Michael and Corinna also decided to go to your residence, and with the youngest in her arms, she began explaining to you that he had learned to say a few new words.

"Auto," the baby joyfully exclaimed, while pointing from Schumacher's arms to a photo of Sebastian in his second team that was above the fireplace. "Auto, daddy. Daddy, das Auto ist blau."

That made Sebastian so happy that tears welled up in his eyes, although it didn't last long because you had already reached the door of the restaurant. Soft lights, despite it being midday, illuminated the path to the entrance, which stood out with its wide windows, resembling a glass display, showcasing diners already enjoying their meals.

After hanging up the call with your relatives, you entered and let yourselves be enveloped by the atmosphere. The interior was elegantly decorated, but not overly extravagant. There were plenty of potted plants of all kinds decorating every corner, and you weren't sure if it was that or not, but a very faint scent, like vanilla, seemed to emanate from some unknown place.

A waiter approached you both while you were chatting animatedly about the place.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Vettel," the young man interrupted, who should be in his twenties and apparently seemed to be a fan of your husband by his way to behave and, apparently, nervousness. "If you follow me I'll show you the table we've prepared so you can enjoy your meal without interruptions."

Sebastian and you thanked him with a slight nod and proceeded to follow him. You crossed the different sections of the establishment, trying not to attract the attention of any customers, until you reached a more secluded corner from where Central Park could be seen in the distance.

Once seated, the guy who was serving you offered you menus and, immediately, an older woman placed a few appetizers on the table, saying they were on the house.

At that moment, while deciding what to order, you began to dwell on the conversation you had with your youngest sister before starting to record the documentary for the first time. You didn't know how to broach to Seb the subject of getting pregnant again. You were nervous about his possible reaction, yes, but at the same time, you had a good feeling. Your husband was currently dissecting the steak you had ordered, while you dipped a nacho into some guacamole. Trying not to delay it further, you finally spoke while settling into your chair:

"Seb?" you asked to get his attention. "The other day, Lou told me something a bit... strange," you innocently expressed.

Vettel stopped cutting the piece of meat, dropped the utensils onto the plate, and looked at you a bit uneasy, not knowing what you might be referring to. 

"What do you mean something a bit strange?" he said, frowning and with a concerned tone. "What did she tell you?"

"She said we could go for one more bun," you emphasized the phrase with a bit of irony. "She also said we should have a second honeymoon or something like that," you crossed her arms, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "You know how my sister is."

And, indeed, Sebastian knew. He already had an idea of where this conversation was going, and if you meant it in a positive way, he was totally on board.

"So... one more bun, huh?" he teased, pretending not to know where the conversation was heading.

"I think Lou was talking about having another baby, love," you bluntly stated.

Sebastian nodded with excitement, knowing that your expression was currently a masterpiece. If you thought he wouldn't catch on to what you were referring to, you were absolutely mistaken. Every time your sister had told him that she'd like to have another nephew, she had done it using that phrase which, though totally absurd, had become an internal joke between them both. Now, you seemed to be a part of it as well.

"I know," Seb finally admitted, not wanting to tease you anymore as you seemed a bit deflated. "And... what do you think?"

You had a thoughtful expression, unsure of what to say. On one hand, you indeed wanted to be a mother for the fourth time, but there were so many things swirling in your head, things that would soon become a reality...

"What are you thinking, Y/N? Wouldn't it excite you us being parents again?" 

Sebastian moved his chair closer to the table and took both of your hands while keeping a close eye on you. He could feel you trembling a bit, and it wasn't particularly because of the cold.

"No, it's not that, it's just that... Carl is still a baby... You've just retired, and the only thing you should focus on now is on resting and making up for lost time. I'm starting all this stuff of F1 Academy soon and, on top of that, there's the mess of the documentary we've gotten into," you listed. "I don't feel capable of being a mother again, Seb," she confessed. "It will be overwhelming for us."

The German took your chin and made you look at him. Your gazes met, and your found somehow serenity amidst all the concerns that were overwhelming you at the moment.

"Listen, Y/N," the former driver expressed clearly and calmly. "I'll always be by your side, no matter where I am or what I do, okay?" You nodded, trying to hold back tears. "If you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait, and if that time never comes, I'll be more than happy to see our little ones grow up next to you."

"Are you serious?"

"Very serious, Y/N," Seb affirmed once again. "I've always wanted to have a big family with you. You know that for me, the more, the merrier."

You leaned back a bit, surprised by your husband's words. You started reflecting on everything he had said since then, especially the if you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait.

Did that mean he might want a fourth child... right?

"Wait, wait, wait," you played with your hands. "What did you say before?"

"I want to have all the babies in the world with you, and I'll wait as long as you need," Sebastian explained again.

Your eyes began to fill with tears of joy, causing confusion for your husband, who began to genuinely worry about you. He hadn't seen you like this for quite some time, and those were not particularly good times.

"Do you really want another baby?" you asked, now crying after you tried holding back tears. "Do you really want us to try?"

"How could I not want it, silly girl?" he rushed to hug you, already knowing what was going through your mind. "I'm willing to do anything you say except to sign divorce papers. So, if you want another mini version of us running around, with the mini versions of us that are no longer so mini running alongside, let's do it."

Your excitement couldn't fit into your body at the moment.

"You're amazing, did you know that?" you expressed, holding onto your husband even tighter.

"Of course," the German laughed, causing you to laugh as well. "I'm just doing what all men should do: be, or at least try to be, everything their girls deserve."

And you knew he was right.

"So...?"

You were nervous about the final answer, although after seeing Sebastian's eyes light up and narrow, revealing the dimples on his cheeks, he didn't need to give you a response: you already knew, and knew your husband too well to understand what was going through his mind at that moment.

"After the musical and dinner I'm going to make you the most beautiful baby in the world. Four kids for us, who have four Formula 1 world championships, is that ok with you?"

[...]

The return trip had created a kind of barrier between you. 

You knew what you were going to do, you had talked about it and, especially, it obviously wasn't the first time you had done it. Nevertheless, doubts always plagued you both when it came to conceiving a baby because, after the miscarriage you had in 2016, fear was always present.

Both the musical, from which you had left crying, and the dinner, despite having been caught by paparazzi and fans, to whom you did not deny anything, were great even Britta wasn't with you to help you. The night was young, and for you it had just begun no matter how much you tried to fool yourselves by promising each other that you would go to sleep soon.

As soon as you arrived at the apartment, you shared kisses that were more intimate than normal, and even some friction over your clothes. You were starting to get very horny, but had to calm down even you became more excited at the same time when Seb told you that, after the shower he was going to take, he would give you a lot of love.

Carl was barely two years old, and although Seb bragged about his three girls every time he had the opportunity to, you knew that what your husband wanted most was to have another small version of him running around.

You took off your clothes quickly, not bothering to put them on properly or look at where they ended up being thrown off. You laid down on the bed, wearing only the black lace panties, a courtesy gift from your sister and which had ended up becoming Sebastian's favorites, and you began to lower your left hand very slowly towards your privacy. You took some time for yourself despite how aroused you were by your touch, focusing on you nipples and, little by little, working your way down to your stomach, leaving a trail of caresses that made you very wet, as you could tell. You had had a lot of problems with your body in the past but, now, you felt like a fucking Greek goddess, and you didn't need Seb's compliments to believe it.

Once you reached your pussy, you tried to spend a brief moment exploring it However, you hunger was getting the better of you, and your excitement even more, so you quickly began to give small massages with the slowest speed you could to your clit, which made you let out a slight gasp. You continued to focus on yourself to the point that you had forgotten about Seb, who had already taken his shower and, completely naked from the bathroom door, was admiring the show that you were giving to him.

At the same time that you were increasing the pressure you were exerting on your G-spot, you began massaging your right breast with your non-dominant hand, the right one, focusing first on the areola and gradually moving towards your nipple, limiting yourself to rubbing it with the index finger. The movement of both of your hands, completely in rhythm, made Seb's penis become completely erect and ready to do anything to you. 

The German had been the one who had taught you everything about masturbation, no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise.

The man walked towards where you were while massaging his penis. As soon as he arrived and had you in front of him, he climbed onto the bed and lay down next to you, still absorbed in your own pleasure. As soon as he had the chance, Seb took advantage to kiss you fiercely, which was eagerly responded by you. You had already noticed that your husband had joined the party, although not yet actively. As if Vettel had read your thoughts, he began to caress your stomach and, without warning, he inserted his hand into your underwear, wasting no time and getting to work with the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"Fuck, Seb..." you whimpered with pleasure. "You could have warned earlier."

"If I had warned you you wouldn't be moaning three times louder right now than when your hand was in my place," Seb said, moving his finger from your clit to your inside, surprising you. "Remember that no one will ever give you more pleasure than me, Y/N Vettel."

Sebastian wanted to continue in that position. However, he knew they had to finish quickly. In just a few hours you had to be up and getting ready to continue filming the documentary, and it didn't seem particularly right to fuck you all night long even though that was his only desire.

Quickly, the German quickly pulled out of you, what made you let out a cry of frustration at the loss of contact. Instead, Sebastian got off the bed, knelt in front of you and took your thighs, squeezing hard to lower you to the edge of the surface and leave your pussy perfectly aligned with his mouth. You knew perfectly well that, in those moments, the blonde was the one who had control of you, no matter how much you wanted to dominate him. But you were not going to object to it: you loved Seb being in control.

Sex for you, who had been affectionately and sarcastically nicknamed the paddock royalty back in the day, was never boring but actually quite the opposite: it was a box full of surprises in which, in a matter of seconds, Seb could go from being rough and dominant, to be the exact representation of the perfect guy in teenage romantic movies.

The man took time to admire you. You only had your panties left over to be completely naked before him. Quickly, he slowly got rid of them, even though you were putting up some resistance. Then, he opened your legs and held them tightly by your thighs, on which he began to leave kisses, caresses and even the occasional slight bite, alternating between them tortuously.

"Sebastian Vettel, I'm not here to play games," you told him reluctantly, anxious for him to take the next step once and for all. "Either you fuck right now or I'll rub myself against the pillow until I come and the pillowcase ends up soaked."

He stood up, stopping touching your body. It caused, once again, great frustration for you.

"Do you think a bag filled with feathers is going to please you more than me?," Vettel asked curiously, playing with you.

"Seeing that you're acting like a dick, yes," you replied, sitting up and resting on the bed with your forearms.

"Are you sure what you're saying, meine Königin?"

You felt more horny after having heard that nickname. Not even a few milliseconds passed when you had already pushed him to lie down again. Immediately afterwards, with his arms tightly holding your lower extremities, the German was already kneeling again and running his tongue throughout your intimacy without any kind of mercy.

“Fuck, Seb!,” you squealed in surprise, prompting the German to lick faster. "My God..."

Seb was going so fast that your body was constantly rising and falling, your breasts bouncing hard almost in unison with Sebastian's licks. To change the rules of the game, and surprise you once again, he opened your folds widely with one hand and, with the other one, started massaging that button that caused you so much pleasure. Your legs had begun to close due to you being close to the orgasm, and the German could do nothing about it except try to delay the arrival of it. He had seen first-hand that, the longer you took to reach your release, the better it was. For this reason, he decided to slow down the pace of the movements, now replacing them with slower rubbing of your clit fusing it with the penetration of his middle finger.

The screams were getting louder, and Seb noticed how your walls contracted on his finger with increasing frequency and violence. He felt the orgasm close to you, and that was the impulse to add one more finger inside you to the equation, accompanied by the entire surface of his tongue on your nerves. While the two fingers were entering and leaving you, he devoured your pussy with a little bit of difficulty due to the lack of access, but with an incredible hunger. He was excited, and he noticed how the precum began to come out of the tip of his penis. This served no purpose other than to give him more motivation to eat you out as if he hadn't done so in a long time.

He needed to fuck you as soon as possible, but first he needed to please you. You always came first for him in sex, and it had become a ritual that emerged unexpectedly years ago, all thanks to Rosberg.

"I'm about to cum, sunshine," you shouted, hunching your back aggressively and lifting your head as high as you could while you kept pulling hard on your husband's hair. "Let me do something, please... I get on top of you and give you a blowjob while you keep going," you begged. “I’m serious, Seb, don't ignore me. Fuck...!”

Sebastian didn't replied as he was completely absorbed in giving you a good orgasm, because saying the best would be impossible. That position had been earned by those when celebrating your victory in the 2013 World Driver's Championship despite everything that it entailed later.

A few light bites on your clit and the increase in the thrusts, focusing on that point inside you that gave you so much pleasure, were the key to the arrival of your climax as you were holding onto the bed sheets tightly while he writhed wildly. 

Seb took some time to take all of your cum and let you calm down because there was still the best part of sex left.

"That was... lovely. Simply lovely."

Vettel sat up, gladly took the remains of your cum and sat down next to you, leaving a chaste kiss on you forehead and, later, on you lips, making you taste yourself.

"I'm the best at my job, what can I say? The best for my girl," he said modestly.

"So..." you commented before the German went on to the next thing and ignoring his words. "Are you going to let me make you feel good or not?"

"No."

A mischievous smile began to form on the man's face. Although he was quite enjoying making you nervous, the truth is that he didn't want that day to focus on him.

If you were going to make a baby, all the attention had to go to you: for that you were the one who would carry it, with everything that entailed, for nine months... more or less.

"Not even a simple blowjob?," you tried to convince him. "Not even a little suck? Come on, Seb."

"Don't insist anymore, really."

"I hope at least that you let your besties do it for me," you approached your husband, taking you breasts and squeezing them while impatiently bringing them closer to his face.

Sebastian laughed, again refusing your insistence. 

"Y/N," Vettel began to explain, "I want you to lie down," he gave you a short kiss, "and let me do everything," he took you by your waist and began to lay you down on the bed again. "Let me do all the work, love," he finished saying, standing upon top of you and beginning to rub his member against your intimacy. "Let me remind you that we're gonna make a baby, love, and you already know that in the Vettel's baby factory, children are made with love. Much affection and love."

You hated when your husband became dominant when they had sex and as quickly as possible ended up acting as if he were a prince straight out of Disney movies.

"Yes, whatever you say," you reprimanded. "It's not fair, Seb. I want to make you feel good too."

"It's not fair either that you suffer during pregnancy and I just stand by and watch," that's when you had to agree with him. "You...," he corrected herself, "you all women do everything. We only take part in the fun part."

Again, without letting you say anything else, he began to spread kisses along your neck, sucking on the spots he knew you liked the most. At the same time, he began to rub himself impatiently on the your stomach, masturbating himself so that his erection would not go down even though it was impossible at that point.

"I love when you do that..." you moaned when you noticed how the German's teeth dug lightly into you skin, "although I would like more to have you inside me."

"Patience, Y/N."

Sebastian continued kissing you through your entire neck, and all you could do was making increasingly aggressive gestures as you felt your pleasure increasing. His penis was becoming more and more erect and, as he could tell by touching your inner lips, you were very, very wet again.

"Please, Seb, don't stop," you moaned in desperation when you stopped feeling the German's lips. "I want you to do something else now, please."

"What do you want me to do?"

A mischievous smile appeared on the blonde's face at the possibilities that were going through his mind right now about what he could do with you. He looked at the time on his digital watch, and when he saw that it was almost twenty to one in the morning, something in him changed.

"Do you want to be in control now, Königin?," he commented with a hoarse and serious voice. "Is that what you want?"

“If you know that’s what I want, I don't know why you're asking me then.”

"Well," replied Sebastian, who had already reached the height of excitement, "let's do it my way because you haven't given me a clear answer..."

Before you could say anything else, he gave you another kiss, although this time he showed much more desperation than anyone you had shared earlier that same night.

"Are you going to leave me like that or what?," you said, seeing that your husband was not up to the task of what he had promised you and, therefore, he stepped away from you. "Switch positions with me right now and lie on the fucking bed, Sebastian."

He did as requested, completely surprised by the words you had let out of your mouth even though it was not the first time he had seen you behave that way with him during your intimate moments.

You had many facets, but the one where you had control during sex was secretly his second favorite, followed right after the one of you being the world's best mother.

Once you husband was finally lying down, you desperately grabbed his member and began to move it up and down at the same time as you clumsily pleasured yourself. Within a few seconds you already had it in your mouth, constantly putting it in and out of your lips and masturbating what you couldn't fit due to its length.

"Are you going to let me fuck you now or not?," Sebastian verbalized, trying not to sound desperate.

"You'll fuck me when I decide it, Vettel," you said. "So now you better shut up for a while. Let me continue doing my job or I'm afraid I'll have to stop too."

"Princess..." Seb complained.

You couldn't take it anymore no matter how much you tried to make excuses for yourself and restrain your husband. You hated it when Sebastian begged you: you were tough, and you coped differently depending on the day. Suddenly, and to the German's surprise, you straddled him and aligned you entrance with his member, slowly letting yourself fall just to torture him. Seb responded with loud gasps accompanied by several expletives towards you, which served to excite you even more.

Finally, you lowered yourself completely, letting out a scream as soon as you felt the German's cock completely inside you. At first, you put your hands on Seb's chest, although you quickly moved them to the edge of the headboard when you saw that he wanted to have full access to your breasts, which he began to caress more than with desire, with affection, focusing on the nipples especially, while massaging them together.

You increased the promising rhythm of your hips when you saw Seb getting close to orgasm. Him, to help you, took you by your waist, helping you in that swing that your hips were so accustomed to doing.

"Honey, I'm close," said Sebastian, who was having a hard time to even speak.

This only made you squeeze your insides and increase more, if possible, your speed, even causing you little damage. The German's heartbreaking screams were filling your ears and, as soon as you began to touch yourself to try to reach the orgasm at the same time as Sebastian's, you joined his gasps.

"God, Y/N, there. Yes!"

A few more thrusts were enough for Sebastian to cum inside you, who continued riding him with impetus. Just a minute later, you had also reached the long-awaited second orgasm of the day, without a doubt much better than the first one.

With your legs shaking, carefully got off your husband, who helped you even though he couldn't even handle his own body. You laid down next to him, tangling your legs next to his. Sebastian, as soon as he had you next to him, took you in his arms and began to caress you and kiss you delicately all over your face.

Sleep began to take its toll on your bodies, and as soon as you began to get closer to each other, yawns replaced moans. Despite being aware that you had to get up in less than four hours, you wouldn't change anything that had happened between you moments before.

"I never get tired of kissing you," you commented, sliding your fingers through Sebastian's hair and snuggling with him, "or hugging you, or anything with you. I am very lucky to have you, and I would live again everything we have gone through in this and a thousand other lives just to be with you,” you acknowledged.

"I'm the lucky one, Y/N," he limited to say with honesty as he placed a kiss on your forehead for the umpteenth time that day, "and you'll never know how much."

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: CALL ME ICARUS

𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝 || 𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎?

It's been a while since i've been around, for a couple reasons! I don't want to get too into depth on this post since "life updates??" had the least votes in the poll, but it more or less boils down to a rough start with the first half of the year. but i'm back! (hopefully for a longer period of time this time!)

y'all wanted to hear what was going on with our resident Mess™️ and boy do i have some news to share:

Firstly, we're coming up on one year of Icky baby being in the world! I can't believe we're approaching October already, it's like just yesterday I released that ball of messed up morals onto the world!

Speaking of book 1 being released, it's currently half off on my itch.io for pride month! due to my health complications and all that i haven't really been promoting this sale but i would like to push it a little bit before the end of the month!

that brings us on to the other end of CMI announcements: book 2 information

I am still focusing the majority of my attention on finishing Desecrate and getting Incorrect Eyes ready for publication, but I wanted to let y'all know that I have started drafting CMI book 2. I already made an intro post about it a while ago, but ΔΙΑΦΘΟΡΆ has started to take shape! I've shared a handful of lines with the Shit Show as they've come to be, and soon y'all will see them too as i start filling up my queue with tags that i've missed in really the past year (i have a lot to catch up on!)

I think the most exciting part of the drafting process for me has been getting to incorporate my own pain back into a story. I forgot how much of a crutch CMI was for that on my end. Sure, Kit may be a great way for me to process emotional pain, and Hunter may be great for writing about my mental illnesses and all, but Icarus? Icky baby has always been the way that I process physical pain. And hoo boy have I been in a lot of that recently! He's not having a great time right now!

Finally, i'm just gonna leave this screenshot from discord to really drive home how the drafting of book 2 is going:

(thank you @written-in-starlight for your kind contribution to my fuckery)

hi hello so you clicked on the keep reading button, you might as well get a treat for that! here are the snippies that illicited these responses:

Achilles wakes up first, adorably wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his—or is that Icarus’?—hoodie. He looks up at Icarus, the exhaustion and residual grumpiness of being woken up being chased away by unbridled happiness as he practically yells, “He’s awake!” He doesn’t stay in bed, jumping to the ground and rushing out into the living room as the words leave his mouth. Apollon takes longer to rouse, grumbling and trying to go back to sleep by curling around Icarus’ waist and pressing his face into his stomach. Icarus smiles down at him, a surprisingly genuine small smile, one that holds years worth of carefully hidden love and affection. He takes a moment to look at Apollon in a way he hasn’t had the chance to since the blond showed up in his apartment. Apollon has grown a lot in their time apart, that much was obvious. He is all harsh angles, sharp edges where Icarus distinctly remembers soft curves that he always loved to trace. He looks good, despite looking less human than ever. An effect of the Elysian Program, no doubt, looking like a spectre that has known never-ending stress for the past 10 years instead of love and care. His olive skin is glowing, his hair splayed out on Icarus’ charcoal sheets like a golden halo. His face is soft with sleep, his lips slightly parted and oh so tantalizing. They look soft, Icarus knows they’re soft. He reaches a hand up, moving to touch them but diverting at the last moment to reach up to his own cracked and dry lips. He wishes he had the chance to see his person grow into this gorgeous man, wishes that he could have ever had a chance to exist at his side.

and (this one is very rough, like this is still in my outline level of detail kinda rough)

Apollon uses Icarus’ neck as a chew toy on the one side, biting down hard as Icarus moans, bucking his hips up into Apollon’s. Icarus knots his hand in Apollon’s hair, tugging hard on the blonde strands, trying to re-gain dominance. Apollon growls at that, biting down hard again before saying “You are mine.” Icarus pushes Apollon’s hips forward as he backs against them again, getting so incredibly turned on by the possessiveness. That is, until he whispers in agreement, saying “I’m yours.” Then, Apollon pulls away, wiping his mouth as he looks down on Icarus with disdain or disgust. A sneer on his lips as he turns away and says “I thought you said I didn’t own you.”

ANYWHO thanks for checkin out this update! I can't wait to talk more about book 2 as it takes form!! I'm hoping to have it ready to go in 2026 at the latest, if not ready to publish by the end of 2025!

TAGLIST

@flowerprose @isherwoodj @cream-and-tea @touchingmadness

@lockejhaven @marinesocks @wildswrites @the-finch-address

@leighvalentin @inkspellangel @outpost51 @love-whatit-loves

@xoberryblush @bebewrites @365runesoftheamalgamations

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

[studentbyday]

my 🧠 feels like ✨cHaOs✨ and so this post will be ✨cHaOs✨

I went to the biochem Q&A sesh today

and OMG DID I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS I DID NOT EXPECT TO HAVE THAT MANY but I'm glad I attended, else it would've taken longer to get a response but now I have to revise (and by that I mean cut) a LOT from my paper and re-think how I'm doing it, if I'm doing it right or veering off topic (bc one thing when you're researching a disease new to you is that there's sm info out there and you're like 🙌🏻 EVERYTHING IS RELEVANT 🙌🏻 but no- only the biochem-related aspects of the disease are relevant for this assignment). idk how off-topic i actually am or if i'm pretty on the mark, but ngghhh tHe FiRsT dRaFt Is DuE On TuEsDaY *frantically waves arms, noodle-like* 🙌🏻 that doesn't feel like a lot of time to write the whole thing in all the detail i want so i can get useful feedback 😫

catching up on psyc notes (total ch finished this week: 2/5)

idk why but pomodoro and perky jazz music is the only thing keeping me focused for this.

fixing biochem paper

i read somewhere on here about having a document of your cuts in case you need it again later. useful advice, that. 👏🏻 also, i think what i should do first is make notes in a separate doc and THEN decide what to do with all that info...it might sound like it'll take longer but it's more efficient than writing a whole bunch and then realizing half of it is info you don't need. my stupid panicky brain couldn't realize that in the beginning (even tho that's what it had done b4 for other "essay-like" assignments) and was either stuck in analysis paralysis or just editing and re-editing, but better now than later (i haven't written THAT much beyond the intro anyway 😅)...

in other news, i got enough sleep for once bc i went to bed super early and ACTUALLY FELL ASLEEP BEFORE 12AM LIKE WHAT IS THIS MADNESS (ig i finally tired myself out enough these past few days 🤷🏻‍♀️) and despite waking up multiple times throughout the night bc i'm not used to the schedule, i am well-rested 😌 and my back is still being annoying but at least it's a little better than yesterday + i get to study while cozy in bed 🥰

[fairestar]

✿ trying to get into the void ;

i will be trying to get to the void via meditation before going to sleep. here, i will update night to night to keep track of events!

— night O1 (august 23rd, 2023)

intro; will try just laying down on my back, relaxing and counting from one until whichever number until i feel it. when i enter it, i will either affirm or visualize.

outro; i counted from one to 222, stopped there because i wasn't getting any more relaxed and changed to affirming “i am pure awareness”. at one point i did feel very close but got distracted. kept going and got startled by a notification, lost the calm state i had achieved, so i decided to change position and start over, but i ultimately fell asleep. it was the best night's sleep ive had in a long time, though, i even woke up early and felt energised.

— night O2 (august 24th, 2023)

intro; once again, i will lay down on my back, concentrate on my breathing and hypnogogic hallucinations, then affirm “i am pure awareness” or simply “I AM” until i get to the void.

outro; spent ~forty minutes relaxing, when i felt like i was floating i changed to affirming. there were moments where i felt like i was very close, but i kept getting distracted because of that same thing, realising “woah, i'm very close” distracted me and i could feel it slipping away. my legs started to feel uncomfortable and i couldn't stand it anymore, so i changed position and when i tried to start over, i just fell asleep.

— night O3 (august 25th, 2023)

intro; kind of the same as the last two days, i will lay down on my back, relax until i feel floaty, affirm “i am in the void state”.

outro; tried a little earlier tonight. i felt relaxed but, once again, my legs started bothering me so i pulled out of that meditative state to position differently. i didn't feel close tonight, i fell asleep quite a lot during it. i ultimately tried the lullaby method, but it didn't work :(

♡ some notes ;

i think what's making me fail is my limiting beliefs, i really want to live in the end and feel the wish fulfilled but rationality and old habits always get the best of me. i will try to do some research regarding these topics and get better at this!

— night O4 (august 26th, 2023)

intro; well, tonight i will try SATS instead of getting into the void (maybe i should make a different post but let's just leave it here for now). i will relax until im drowsy, using waves for assistance, and visualise waking up to my desired life, trying to make it as vivid (as in: sensory-vivid) and have it on loop until i accept its realness. i will really try to put my all into it, not letting limiting beliefs drive me away from the life i deserve.

outro; completely fell asleep while trying it, didn't get to visualise anything. ive noticed i find it hard to actually relax and keep my mind from wandering.

— night O5 (september O3rd, 2023)

intro; i will try the 61 points meditation, i saw people say they got really good results with it so i want to try it. after finishing it and being relaxed, i will just affirm “I AM”.

outro; i did the meditation six times. yes, six. the first one was the best one, i felt very relaxed after it and was already affirming when i felt a mosquito on my eyelid and it was driving me crazy so i brushed it away and did it again. and i kept getting distracted, my right ankle started hurting badly because of the rain, it made my leg twitchy and it was annoying me, i felt too hot so i took some covers off my bedding, changed into a pair of shorts... so because all of that, i ended up doing it six times. it was very useful, though. as soon as i was finished with a body part it instantly felt heavy and i even felt myself drifting off to sleep sometimes. but i didn't manage to get into the void.

— night O6 (september O4th, 2023)

intro; tonight i will try another meditation i saw get recommended. after i achieve "mind awake, body asleep," i will affirm for the void.

outro; i did it once, if im not mistaken. my body was tingling all over and felt heavy afterwards. i started affirming and focusing on the black behind my eyes, but i fear my mind was too awake and i couldn't really focus. i tried for about 20 minutes and gave up (im not the most patient person, something to change). also, i had a very bad headache too and started to feel nauseous because of it. i decided to take a painkiller, eat something and watch some calm youtube videos until i felt sleepy enough to try SATS. i told my subconscious i was going to enter the void tonight and started daydreaming until i felt drowsy. i dont remember if i got to affirm before falling asleep. but yet again, i didn't make it. but i know im close, afterall, the void is nothing but me in my pure form, so why should it be difficult to achieve?

♡ some more notes: i've been doing some research on different ways to enter the void state and trying to find the one that resonates the most with me. i think that entering either through SATS or meditation is the way to go for me (kind of what i've been doing, really), so this post will most likely concentrate on those two methods.

— night O7 (september O5th, 2023)

intro; so, tonight i will try to enter through SATS. after watching this video, i decided to start by revising my day until i feel drowsy enough to start affirming “i am”.

outro; it went surprisingly well! since my sleep schedule is messed up, i watched some youtube videos until i feel like i could fall asleep in a bit. i got comfortable, started revising my day via visualising and at one point i caught myself almost falling asleep so i switched to affirming and focusing on the black behind my eyes. i spent some time doing that and tried to ignore symptoms and the 3D as much as i could, i felt very close but every time i “meditate” i start feeling uncomfortably hot and this time i could even feel sweat trickling down my back, and i just couldn't stand it so i pulled out of the calm state i had achieved and, if im not mistaken, i tried again but had lost all my focus and eventually fell asleep. but i take this night as great progress! i feel so happy.

— night O8 (september 11th, 2023)

intro; i saw this meditation get recommended so i will try it tonight. i may affirm after relaxing or maybe i will just focus on my breathing.

outro; the meditation worked really well, i did it twice because as has happened before, i felt too hot and my right leg started to annoy me. but the first try was the best one, i think i tapped once but i wasn't aware, although im not sure if it was the void or if i just fell asleep for a few seconds. the second time wasn't as fruitful but that's only because ive conditioned myself to believe that if it's not that night's first time then it won't work as well.

— night O9 (september 12th, 2023)

intro; tonight i will try to enter through lucid dreaming. i used to be able to effortlessly manifest lucid dreams a few years ago, so i know that if i get one i will absolutely be able to get to the void. i used to do it by saying an affirmation before going to sleep, but tonight i will add a subliminal for good measure. i might also try FILD too.

outro; i couldn't, for the life of me, fall asleep until 8am. i listened to the subliminal but i didn't get a lucid dream. i woke up at around 12 and remembered to do FILD but i kept getting distracted, i was too awake.

— night 1O (september 14th, 2023)

intro; i will try the fourth method mentioned on this post (counting and becoming aware after 5 numbers pass by, but i did it after 10). i actually did it yesterday for the first time and it really helped in getting me sleepy, so i want to try it again but with a well-set intention for lucid dreaming.

outro; something weird happened. i didn't lucid dream but at one point while i was asleep i suddenly felt like i was in a weird environment, completely out of nowhere. i thought, oh my god im in the void (as if id woken up in it) and started affirming, then said i was leaving and i wanted to continue sleeping, so i felt my body fall to my mattress as if someone had been holding me a little above it, i remember feeling some parts of my body get really heavy and a few seconds later i fell asleep. when i woke up i realised it wasn't the void because wherever i felt i was was overwhelmingly hot. but it was a really weird experience.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ© fairestar, 2023.

[amostdelectablescribbler]

WIP Intro: Steel Horses and Hot Irons

As requested by @tea-and-mercury, i am writing up a wip intro for the big ‘un. 32k words deep as of writing this. Sooo:

Genre: Action

Setting: South USA, Arizona-Texas-Nevada area. The Mojave, pretty much.

Tropes: Bigass guns, physics that doesn’t really get addressed, a whole bunch of mental illness (poor Becca), romantic sideplot, big plot twist, secondary antagonist scarier than the primary.

Tag (so i can see it): #STHI (it’s gonna work a bit like a signature for me)

Imma just put the prologue and the character work i did in because it’s just that much easier.

Prologue

5 years ago, 2035, the atom bombs were dropped. First at the USA, then Afghanistan, Russia, China, most of the EU, France shone like a strobe light before the nuclear power stations finished exploding. They all fell in the face of nuclear armageddon. All that was left were craters, rubble and uranium. A few survived and began reclaiming the barren, toxic wasteland. In Utah, there was a lot of this. The Krugers, based in Arizona, were dangerous and silent assassins that disappeared into the night when they left. The Mob, the surviving criminals from the surviving prisons. The lowest of the low and barely organised. The Survivors, who can walk off just about anything and were mostly left alone by everyone else. Wandering bands of close friends also formed, finding work as hired guns.

The Motliest Crew were renowned the best. A group of 5; 3 men, 2 women, all balls-to-the-wall insane. They had no known names, only specialties. The Marksman, Rebecca Johansson “Pew.” A sniper who allegedly never missed a shot, but was very shy, anxious and probably depressed. This is to be confirmed as there are no therapists left in Arizona, or in Alberta, Canada. The Scout, aka, Sorren Clark. “Keep up, $#§/stain.” A speedster with a mouth and a shotgun, one get’s him into trouble, the other get’s him out. Not the most useful combo in Australia, but out in the wastes, invaluable. The Brawler, aka, Claudia Vander. “I’m gonna punch him.” A large frame packed with muscle and grit hailing from South Korea and California. Her fighting skills are near unmatched. 

The Demolitionist, aka, Callum Henderson. “I had a dog and his name was… Bingo!” A drunk, black, tartan-clad Scotsman with a grenade launcher and a rocket launcher. And a claymore, he has a sword too. The Gunman, aka, Rasputin Romanov. “Shoot first, ask question while reloading. Spetsnaz 101.” A man of few words and a Spetsnaz soldier from Russia, with a really heavy accent and a really heavy gun. 

Each of these wandering guns-for-hire wore a face mask or helmet to both obscure their identities and filter the noxious cocktail of chemicals in the air in some places. They were all armoured to various degrees with assorted run-down military kit that had been scavenged. The Gunman was clad in hulking Juggernaut military gear, the Demolitionist in assorted pads and plates, the Scout in Moto leathers and a bulletproof vest, the Brawler wore similar kit to the Scout and the Marksman was in ill-fitting, minimalist spec-ops kit. Minimalist because only a third of what they found came close to fitting her. Each suit was tailor-made (except the Marksman) by it’s wearer, each adding their own personal flourishes and decorative elements, like sketchily-woven tartan, tally marks, oil crayon, the works.

Now, the character work i did (and added):

Rasputin and Becca:

Callum, Sorren and Claudia split up to go and have fun, leaving Becca with Rasputin. They sat in the hotel room, looking at each other quizzically. Becca had curled herself up in a blanket nest across the room from Rasputin’s massive frame that was posted on a bed, leaning into the wall, staring blankly into the space between air molecules. He looked around, registered Becca’s comfort ball, cracked his back and shifted his posture to something more relaxed.

“So.”

“Mm?” Becca mumbled from her nest, poking an anxious head out into the dim light.

“Why are you hiding?” 

Becca paused in thought, eyes darting from Rasputin to the floor, to the roof before finally talking, her own indecision caving to his patience.

“I’m worried.” She whispered into her blankets, “I’m worried about them.”

“Hmm. In Spetsnaz, we had a good cure for worries. We would sit and talk about worry. You want to try?”

“Mhm” she slowly heaved her miniature frame out of the blanket nest and towards Rasputin, who lay down on the bed fully, shuffling along to make space, further dwarfing Becca. She curled up next to him, heart rate going from cardio to moving. Listening to his huge heart slowed down hers, his relaxed body position relaxing hers. There was a security in being so close to something so large, like swimming with a whale.

“So. Why are you worrying, Becca?”

“I- I’m worried for Callum and Sorren and Claudia. I don’t know what might happen to them. Even if I was there with them, I would just slow them down, but I like knowing where they are so that I know they can protect me if they have to.” Rasputin’s huge bald head turned around

“I will tell you this, Becca: I have protected all of them before. I can protect you.”

“There are monsters out there than can hurt them?”

“But none them can hurt me. I am Russian. I am Spetsnaz. Nothing hurt me.” Rasputin’s gravelly, broken English was somehow comforting. 

“Really?”

“Da.”

Callum:

Another cold, dark night came as the red sun plummeted below the horizon. In the town, there was a bar. A man sat alone, at the end of the bar, drinking from a flagon of foamy beer and people-watching and checking his watch, waiting. For something or someone to spur him into action. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

An hour passed and he finished his beer, ordering another from the barkeep. The night crept on fruitlessly for the man. The stream of people coming in and out slowed to a trickle as he waited in the dark bar, wooden flagon in hand, beer getting colder, patience wearing thinner. Finally, one man entered who caught his attention. A tall, burly figure with a tartan kilt and sash over his impressive armour and helmet. The man held himself proud and tall, confident in himself and his abilities, but not arrogant. He walked with a muted swagger as he progressed to the bar and made his order, shifting the claymore on his back to avoid the seat. Some whiskey or other on the rocks. He had an enormously Scottish accent and as he removed his helmet to drink, it was revealed that he wore an eyepatch and had a nasty burn scar plastered on the left side of his face, sprawling under the eyepatch and barely visible in the shadow. 

The man stalked forwards silently, sitting beside the Scotsman without making a single quiet sound. 

“So, is it really you?” The hooded man had a smooth, melodious voice, with a noticeable Mexican accent.

“Who’s really who?” Callum replied, unflapped by a stranger randomly appearing beside him. In the better light, the man saw belts of grenades wrapped around the scot’s waist and bulges from beneath his sash. 

“You. Are you really the famous Callum Henderson? Legendary demolition man for the Motliest Crew?” The stranger’s voice somewhere between admiration and mockery.

“So tha’s what they’re callin’ us. ‘The Motliest Crew.’ ‘Bit demeaning, no?”

“Not at all. I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve been watching your antics for a while now and i was wondering if I could get an autograph?” The strange man spoke from beneath a hood, eyes glinting red in the gloom, a crocodile grin on his face as he reached i to his poncho and coat,

“Aye, sure. Tell me where tae sign.” Callum turned to get a pen from his pocket and when he turned back around, a tattered, sun-bleached “wanted: dead or alive” poster of him was placed on the dark wooden bar. The wind whistled as the man tapped the ‘dead’ part, “Just here, please.”

“Yer a bounty hunter, eh?”

“I am. One of the best, too. The Wolf of District 13.”

“So, wolf, is this the best yeh have? Vague, indiscernible threats and uncanny looks?” Callum replied, showing no fear of the man beside him, as he downed his scotch, putting a 5€$ bill beneath the glass. The Wolf chuckled for a second, before going dangerously calm, retreating into the dimly lit bar and drawing himself up to his full, enormous height. 

Cybernetics whirred to life from beneath the wolf’s poncho and hood, as his eyes glowed red and a hiss of steam whistled from his elbows. Callum stood, grabbing his sword, “So this is how yeh wannae do this?”

“Yes.” Hissed the wolf, as his mechanical legs grew a third joint, making them look like the legs of a wolf, lean and strong and good for chasing. Callum stood, taking the poster to inspect it. He looked for a while, put it on the bar, signed it, pocketed his pen and walked out of the bar. The Wolf lowered his guard in disbelief, hunching back over to examine the wanted poster. He had circled “Dead” and signed it at the bottom. The wolf finished his beer and sulked off into the night, after paying his tab.

Claudia:

The Wolf of District Seven stalked down the back alleys of the Last City, following the cheering to a dingy looking warehouse with lights and shouts coming from within. Loud, aggressive music blasted from huge speakers, the bass shaking the walls. The Wolf entered the building by walking through the front door guarded by bouncers without being noticed at all. In the centre of the building, a ring had been made, inside of which, there were two fighters. One was a large man with massive arms and cybernetic reinforcements on his elbows and shoulders and he wore brass knuckles on his ham-fists and a metal plate on his jaw. The other fighter -the Brawler- was a smaller woman with broad shoulders and strong, lean arms. Claudia was still tall, but this other fighter was massive, yet her confident stance, and side-guard indicated extreme proficiency in her trade. The large man wore brass knuckles, she wore steel boxing gloves haphazardly manufactured from scrap sheet-metal and cast-iron. 

The man brought a standard boxing guard up and his opponent steadied herself before bouncing on her toes. The large man angled himself to his opponent and swung a huge haymaker which was caught by the woman, pinned to her side and she started slamming him with crushing blows to the liver and ribs. Each blow made a cracking and a clanging as steel smashed bone. With one final powerful uppercut, she released the mans arm and slammed him in the chin, knocking him unconscious before he hit the cold stone floor.

The Wolf came through the crowd without detection or suspicion of a tall, hunched figure in a black poncho and hood hiding the figure’s face. She called into the crowd, “Who’s next? C’mon, dude! It said fight ring on the poster, not warm-up gym!” The Wolf took his chance and approached Claudia, weaving through the crowd, “I will fight you, if nobody else wants to, that is.” The Brawler looked at her new opponent, weighing up the fighting skills of this strange hooded figure, “Bring it, big dude!” she tapped her chin with her glove, taunting the Wolf. “You know, I’m a big fan of you and your crew, Brawler. Before we start, can I please get an autograph?” The Wolf asked, crocodile grin spreading beneath his hood, red eyes catching the light as he withdrew a pen and wanted poster from the folds of his poncho. His metal limbs glinted in the spotlight, clawed steel fingers on full display. He handed her the pen, “Just here please.” He tapped under ‘DEAD’ in ‘Dead or alive.’

Claudia signed the poster in pen before she realised what it was, stepping back as she realised, “Trying to bring in the reward money?”

“Have to make a living somehow. It’s not personal.” The Wolf removed his black poncho to reveal a body made mostly of metal and machine parts. Steam hissed in the shining pistons operating the Wolf’s arms and legs. Guards were raised and it began.

The Wolf dropped low, correctly anticipating a jab to the face, claws grating on the cold stone floor. “Slow.” He cackled with glee, swerving past a knee aimed to the gut and sweeping the supporting leg from below her. “Sloppy.” He taunted from behind Claudia as she got up and readied herself to fight properly. He took the next punch that came for him, a misdirect left hook into an elbow to the chin and a slam to the ribs. Both massive blows made a sickening clunk as metal was slammed together violently. “Weak.” Growled the Wolf, as steam hissed. Before she could process it, the Wolf’s metal fist was an inch before her face, and promptly slamming hard into said face, pushing her backwards. The next blow came before she was done staggering. A monstrously powerful ridgehand to the lower back, snapping the Brawler back up, only to take a huge uppercut to the liver and a sweeping kick to the back of the knee, bringing her down into a spinning back kick. She was out before she hit the floor. The Wolf drew his clawed hand into a stabbing blade, winding up to deliver the killing blow, before the referee stepped in, stopping the fight. “That’s enough. You’ve beaten her, prize ‘s in the pot.” 

“Fine. I’ll take your bribe, but that doesn’t pull her bounty off the board.” The Wolf growled, cursing under his breath as he left the dingy arena. 

and finally, Sorren:

The Wolf of District 13 sat at the end of another bar with another mug of beer. The MotoGP was on the TV, engines roaring through the abused speakers. One man sat watching, he had a beer in his gloved hand and a confidence in his demeanour. “I know you’re there, mate. I’ll get to you when Ducati finish this lap in first.” The Scout waved a hand in the Wolf’s direction, before retreating it and sipping on a gin. The Wolf stared in awe and bitterness at the scout’s arrogance, he had never been dismissed by a target before. Ignored once or twice, acknowledged every time, but never dismissed. This was not going to fly. The Wolf advanced silently towards his quarry, making no sound, red eyes glowing with malice. The Scout waved his hand again, tutting. “No, I said I’ll get to you in a bit. I keep my word. Sit back down, finish your drink, and put the knife away.” 

“And if I don’t?” The Wolf muttered under his breath.

“Them you’ll go down in history as the most boring assassin ever. If you want to kill me, you’ll do it on my schedule.”

“Idiot.” 

“No, you idiot, I’m reckless. The difference being one is being thick as bricks and the other is having no regard for your own safety.”

The Wolf was a very patient killer, he would wait for days for his quarry to show themself, but after 5 minutes with this intolerable little man he had very much lost it. He went in with his knife and went straight for Sorren’s spine. He missed the spinal cord because of the Scout’s impossible reaction speed, but instead his blade was buried in his lumbar. 

“Ouch. Welp, I’m off to die somewhere pretty. See you in hell.” Sorren groaned as he got up from his stool, blade still stuck in his back, and walked out of the bar bleeding everywhere, hopped on his motorbike, and caned it back to the Hotel California deep within the sprawling city.

-end-

Btw i got more wips to do more intros on, since you’re so desicated and insist on reading to the end of these :3

[leek227]

Screw it, intro, why not.

I'm Leek, any pronouns really, and I'm currently a computer engineering dropout, but will eventually go back to school for an earth science. This is my personal brain dump blog, there are some themes that will be major throughout my whole blog, and there will be some fandom related things that will come in waves as it shows up on my dash. The major things that this blog will have on it are outlined below, although I post about Jewish things the most(being a convert is extremely important to me, and I like being loud about the things that are important to me.)

I was raised in a Holiness Movement Christian Conservative household as the eldest daughter of 3 children, and the one who was supposed to carry on my family's Christian and conservative values. This included me being unschooled for all but 6 weeks in 8th grade(about ages 12-14 for the US). If you don't know what the term unschooled means, it's a subset of the homeschooling community that believes in a "hands-off" education method of children. Kids are left from an early age to decide how they spend their days and what they want to learn. This style of free form study can be useful for some teenagers, but when used for children who are of kindergarten age it leads to an extreme lacking in fundamental skills such as basic math, reading, writing, days of the week even. I was very lucky and I learned to read fast, and enjoyed it. My 6 week stint at a middle school was started by my father sitting me down on my bed and yelling at me that public school would turn me into a crack addicted whore, and ended with him yelling at me that I got a failing math grade on my report card. This 6 week stint made it incredibly clear to me that I didn't know what other kids knew, while I was thriving in English and surviving Social Studies, I couldn't make it through a math class without needing to ask for help with basic multiplication. I found out years later that my parents pulled me out of school because the counselor was threatening to call CPS. I ended up getting my GED at 21 and have been kicking ass since, having gotten into university for electrical and computer engineering I was able to make it all the way through to junior year before I burned out and needed to stop for the foreseeable future.

I'm queer, both agender and pansexual, recovering from an imbalanced marriage that I am now divorced from, and figuring out who I really am. I moved in with my ex immediately after leaving my parents at 20(I kinda sorta ran away and haven't spoken to them since, I won't be speaking to them again anytime soon.) which led to some issues. There was immediately a power imbalance and a stress that the relationship was transactional, with very not fun emotional times if I didn't follow up on my side of the transaction. Divorced back in October, and my self worth(and street smarts) have skyrocketed since!

I am also on the last leg of my religious journey. Having been raised Wesleyan Christian, and being AFAB and loving to read and ask questions, I was both ostracized and put down constantly for wanting to expand my knowledge and also understand where the beliefs I was raised around are based in the Bible. After a particularly toxic experience with community service put on by my church at 14, I decided to start my deconstruction process. This led me to periods of being atheist, agnostic, atheist again, various flavors of neopagan for about 5 years. I made good friends with several Jewish people who were more than excited to invite me to their temples, learn about the culture and beliefs, and if it wasn't for me having moved around a lot in the last six years, I would've settled down into a synagogue already. I'm currently converting at a Conservative temple and I'm so close to finishing the process. I have truly found both a home for my religious soul, and a home for my community in Judaism. I'm very vocal about it, and I won't apologize.

Wow, that was a lot. I hope to absolutely never type that much on this website ever again, and if I do, I'll make sure to put pictures next time cause this is killing my dyslexic ass.

[lilmaymayy]

hey friends! this is just a quick intro post in case you want to know a bit more about me/the blog🤭

** DISCLAIMER**

PLEASE BE KIND in this blog i will not entertain ANY hate/aggressive/mean interactions THEY WILL BE DELETED OR IGNORED, in the past where i did respond, it never left my mind and i never knew how to react, leaving me to be negatively affected by someones fleeting thoughts. so to avoid anyones displeasure please be respectful and conscious of your actions and words!! if not- 👉🚪we dont need that energy here

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*im also on mobile so apologies for any bad formatting😭😭

hello! my nicknames may and i use she/her pronouns. when sending any msgs id appreciate a quick hello but as long as your being polite i will gladly respond. feel free to address me as may or any other (kind) phrase (e.g queen/baddie?? anythings fine as long as youre being nice)

do u see the theme😘

i like to keep my age off of here simply for privacy but i can assure you i am not a minor, but if you are, you are welcome on my page any time just be aware i do swear and the content that i reblog can be nsfw, but ultimately you are responsible for the media you decide to consume.

i do not write fics(i always reblog them tho😉/also beta! so if youre a writer in need just lmk) idk if i ever will(write)but i dont realistically see that happening😭.

in the search bar for my page you can see all these hashtags, i typically tag “give it a read💋” for any fics ive betad and “she speaks🗣️” for any post thats just me yappin💀

and any character names (like finnick odair, peter parker etc.) are the bulk of fics that i reblog and you can find works for that character under those tags!

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im a full time student based in sunny california😍, my favorite things have to be fruits(tops gotta be strawberrys, cherrys anddd green grapes), fics, and folklore (3 fav f’s💋) (and yes i am a swiftie). last time i took the personality test i got ISTJ, but i swearr im still an infp. every single test i took told me i was a hufflepuff (were not lame i swear), and even though i swear up n down that im a laurie.. i might be an amy😔( i want to be great or nothing😫) and a song that i just feel for is probably a three way tie between teenage dream by olivia rodrigo, this is me trying by taylor swift and dreamer by laufey(not someone i typically listen to but whenever spotify puts her song i always love it)

favorite artistss gotta be the big three taylor, lana and ariana (nothing offish theyre just my most listened) and drake.. and bad bunny.. and olivia.. and sza.. and beyonce.. and the weekend.. and rihanna

- if you want a grasp of my music this is a LINK to my most played playlist

- this is a LINK to my more lovey/ sweet songs, its all in the description💋

*if u give em a listen and u wanna put me on.. msg me!! id love to hear your recs

my hobbies include playing music, i play guitar(kinda goodish) and i wanted to pick up piano too (idk if ill ever get to this😭) i also found that i love to do puzzles, and i wanted to start scrapbooking (looks fun af lowk). a few other things i love is definitely just jamming out to my tunes, sleeping😫😫, watching movies, playing w legos😭, PLAYING WITH MY DOGGIESSS (i have two, rocky and lily both are maltese poodles💋💋), baking (hate the clean up tho) i also love selfcare, its always good to prioritize urself but i mean the cassie method of everything showers, lotions, body oils, body mists/ perfumes, face masks, skin care (allllllll the goodies) just to finish the day off with a fic (its deadass my nightly routine to shower, get ready for bed/unwind, tumblr)

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now onto.. CELEBRITY CRUSHES!!

-CELEBRITY not character, but if i missed any lmk😝

-this is a long one so bearrrrr with me

my top 5 currently is🥁🥁🥁

1. sam claflin (been obsessed, still obsessed, i dont see this changing *unless timothee wanna quit playin🙄)

2. tom blyth (tbosbas was life changing.. hes so💋💋)

3. andrew garfield (im considering moving my man up to 2 bc hes an og for this list likee hes been on my brain since he was fan casted as our remus lupin and will stay there😌)

4. jacob elordi (newest addition, saltburn edits is the sole reason why hes here plus hes so fucking tall like i deserve that height difference *for reference im 5 ft😈)

5. timothee chalamet (i love him so much BUT HES DOWN HERE BC OF KYLIE😭*he would be 1 otherwise🥲)

for other hotties ..

OSCAR ISAAC🥵🥵😫-i need this man in bed rn

charlie brushnell😘-new addition but again he is taking over just like pjo is

tom holland- zenny baby he is all yours but that man shirtless? YUMMYYY

tom hiddleston- only rzn to watch the thor series

theo james - YOU THE ONE FOUR ME hes so fine i watched divergent (still a great series) for him n i was not dissapointed

aaron t— johnson- i do not want to mention his 🤐 but he is so fine his calvin klein ads?? KICKASS??

ben barnes- shadow n bone.. YUMMY YUMMY🤭🤭also sirius? likeee runaway to my house?

cillian murphy- ik he lowk looks like he got a bad case of botox.. BUT CMONNN PEAKY BLINDERS???

callum turner- i knew i was hooked since that harry potter movie he has like 10 minutes in🥰🥰

dylan o’brien-ima be honest im not DIE HARD in love but this man was fine since maze runner and teen wolf n will be till hes in the graveee

henry cavill- enola mf holmes.. INTRODUCE ME TO YOUR BROTOHER LIKE😍😍😍 i need this man to investigate all my internal organs

hugh laughton scott- hes just so pretty i just😘

harrison dickinson- love at first sight of darkest minds😍😍( its a discontinued movie (supposed to be) series) i need him in more shit

joao felix- my bestie pmo fifa AND HE DOES NOT DISSAPOINTT

josh hutcherson- i could not make this list without pookie

matthew gray gubler- i need him to read me to sleep, sing me to sleep, talk about anything so i can sleep, he brings me so much joy with that smile and hes so sweetie pie i could go on forever

robert pattinson- TEAM EDWARD FOR LIFEEEEEEEE

drew starkey?- idk his name but hes the hottie who plays rafe cameron IVE NEVER WATCHED THE SHOW (or anything hes in) but holy shit that man is tall and pulls off ANY hair cut

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well if youve made it this far thank you for taking the time to read this! if you want to know some more about me msg me in any way and ill respond, maybe ill add that info here. thanks again for your attention! love you all😘

[yoonjinkooked]

The Last Hurrah | jhs

Part of the House of Lust Valentine’s Day Collab

Title: The Last Hurrah

Member: Hoseok

current CEO former escort Hoseok x client CEO reader Genre: smut, a little angst, escort AU

WC: 25.6k

Summary:  It's been a few years since Hoseok did any of the legwork, preferring to operate his elite escort business from an office and not from a bedroom. But when he gets an email from an exasperated, up-and-coming businesswoman who just needs arm candy for a weekend conference, his interest is peaked - he wants one final mission, one last hurrah, to go out with a bang...

Warnings: legal sex work, prejudice regarding sexwork, reader also has quite a few of them at the start, slowburn in a way, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation (sort of), fingering, mirror sex, cumplay, cum eating, pussy worship? Hoseok is a sex god, soft dom Hoseok. Also, Tae’s an ass, Jin is funny and it’s entirely way too long, the intro is from Hobi’s POV

Beta: good ol’ grammarly

AN: The idea was to post this tomorrow but it’s technically 18th where I live so still counts, plus I may actually have time to properly finish other stuff I have to write. + from now i will try to write bday fics! Enjoy! 💜

Jung Hoseok has always been a workaholic. Ever since he got his first job, as a busboy at a local fast food joint, he always gave 100%. That number would rise to 110%, when it came to his own business, of course. Whether a busboy, an escort, or the owner of one of the most lucrative businesses in the country, Jung Hoseok always gives it his all. 

 It was to be expected that he would hit a wall one day. He was warned, his friends no longer bothering to hide their worried glances, but he ignored them all, thinking that burnout will never happen - not to him, not with this, not yet, at the very least. And here he is, at 3 AM on a Saturday, fighting away sleep as he stares at the screen of his computer in an otherwise dark office. Everyone had long since left, gone home to their families, went out to find someone to warm their bed, or simply to binge their favorite show again. Not Jung Hoseok, oh no. He needed to stay true to his workaholic reputation. 

 Sell the business, was Namjoon’s advice, and while it wasn’t entirely a bad one, to Hoseok, that wasn’t an option. If he had someone or something to return to, a partner, a child, a pet even, he would have considered it, but when he made the business his everything, selling it was taken off the table in terms of possible outcomes. Getting back into the field, was Jimin’s advice, and while the thought tickled him, Hoseok still didn’t budge. Sex work used to be fun, but back then he was younger and at his sexual pinnacle - going back into the field, as Jimin called it, would bring him more trouble than it's worth. 

 Despite what he might have thought before, the wall does exist and he has, in fact, hit it. Now, he either needs to get used to it or find a way to get out of the slump he’d been in for what seemed like months. He can’t even tell, with the slump slowly seeping through and overtaking him, not attacking him out of nowhere. Whether it was weeks or months, he was stuck and no matter what he did, he couldn’t move forward. 

 Perhaps the solution then was to move backward? Take a step back, or two, look around, explore the situation and find a solution? It is what he does whenever he needs to solve a business-related issue - he always steps back and does his best to observe it from the outside. So why not now? What is stopping him from doing it now? 

 Realizing that he should be going home and not spending the night in his office, asleep at the desk with a drool-covered keyboard under his cheek, Hoseok snaps into action, closing the tabs on his browser one by one. He was down to the last two tabs, apart from the ones that were permanently pinned when he noticed that he had a new email - on his personal account, no less. Intrigued, he clicks on the tab itself instead of the X in the corner. 

 The first warning sign is that he doesn’t recognize the name of the sender, which shouldn’t be the case, as he very rarely gives out his personal email address. Especially not when it comes to working matters and based on the subject line, Looking for a Companion, he knows that this is related to work. 

 Briefly, he debates not opening the email, even deleting it - having people use his personal email this freely is one of his biggest pet peeves, and normally, deleting it is exactly what he would do. Something didn’t let him do that, though. Call it instinct or a sixth sense, whatever it is, it did not let him leave it like he normally would. So, against his better judgment, Hoseok opens the email, leaning back into his leather chair as he reads it. 

 To whom it may concern, 

 I have received this email from a trusted source and I am aware that this is a personal email of one of the higher-ups of House of Lust. 

 I’ve gone over all the possible options in an attempt to avoid reaching out to someone who is a complete stranger, but truly having no other option, I have decided to ask for your services in the most inconspicuous way possible. Of course, I do trust you to protect my privacy, as I will do the same with yours. 

 Two weeks from today, I have a business conference to attend outside of town, and based on my previous experience with such events, having a male companion by my side will be helpful, both in avoiding unnecessary questions and unwelcome advances. 

 I am, and I cannot stress this enough, not looking for anything sexual. If House of Lust can offer me a service that suits my present needs, I can assure you that nothing inappropriate will occur. Simply put, I am in need of a companion for a weekend, not intercourse. 

 A put-together man, intelligent and average-looking, would be enough. He would have to follow a backstory that would be as simple as possible - I am also open to suggestions, as I have never done this before. In return, I am offering to pay whatever price is needed, as well as a free-of-charge stay in the presidential suite of the 5* hotel the conference will take place in. We would both have separate bedrooms, making it easy to avoid one another and focus on more pressing tasks and interests we will likely have. All I need is someone to show up there with me and help me avoid people I would rather not speak with. 

 If you can help me, and I was repeatedly reassured that you will be able to, if there is an employee in your company who would do this, please do not hesitate to name the price. 

 Thank you very much in advance and have a pleasant weekend. 

 Best Regards, Y/N Y/L/N

Well. That is a first for him, that’s for sure. It makes him press his hands into a fist, white-knuckled, as he reads over the email once more. 

 Hoseok already knows it was one of his friends that gave away his personal email and he is glad that the sender didn’t mention who. If she had, Hoseok would probably debate whether or not to continue the friendship, but at the same time, he knows none of them would have given the address easily, so they must know the woman well. 

 In all his years of working in the sex industry, nothing like this had ever happened to him. Such a formal email, from what sounds like a very rigid woman, that very specifically points out how she is not interested in anything sexual, almost as if she’s ashamed by the thought of it. That isn’t a surprise, though. It’s been years since the law was passed and sex work became controlled, legal, and treated like a legitimate job, but some people lift their noses and easily turn their heads to the other side, ignoring it, thinking it is beneath them. He has trained himself to ignore it, to not let it get to him, but this one had caught him by surprise. Perhaps it is because she sounded especially ashamed, or perhaps because the email found him in the early hours of the morning - whatever the reason is, Hoseok has found himself once again annoyed to the point of legitimate anger, pursing his lips at the way she sounds, confirming that she is one of those people. One that thinks they are above him and makes sure that he knows it. 

 And those people don’t usually act that way while at the same time asking for a service. 

 Before he can convince himself otherwise, Hoseok finds himself highlighting the signature and right-clicking ‘search Google for’. A part of him expected a complete dead end, especially given how adamant she sounded about her privacy. It is, however, her real name. And her using it to end the email is a sign to him that he is already expected to protect her privacy. 

 His curiosity is pleasantly surprised as he finds a seemingly never-ending amount of results, but he quickly notices how none of them seem to be personal. No social media network to her name, and in the 21st century, that is not something one sees often. What he did find in abundance, however, were the news articles - most of them brief, to the point, praising her and her supposedly sharp mind. 

 Ah. Now it makes perfect sense. 

 Of course, a woman like her would treat something as simple as this like it’s a dirty little secret. An only child from a very affluent family, she took over the leadership position from her father while people her age were busy doing keg stands and figuring out where they want to be in life. All of her business ventures were excellent decisions - and if some weren’t, they definitely didn’t make the papers. 

 As much as he despises reading from these websites, Hoseok doesn’t hesitate one bit before diving into the tabloid side of her life. And to no one’s surprise, there is absolutely nothing. Whatever life she has outside of work, it’s being kept as private as possible. There aren’t even any rumors, minor or otherwise, and someone who was labeled as the top female entrepreneur in the country should have at least some dirt. But nope, she is as squeaky clean as one could possibly. 

 Hoseok has known women like her his entire life - the reason why he sits where he sits today is that he’s an expert at dealing with them. Women like her present themselves as cold and distant, focused on career and nothing else, never letting one hair on their heads fall out of their perfect buns. Women like her were the ones who begged the hardest for him to pull on it, screaming in the perfect mix of pleasure and pain when he did so. They would always be so well put together in public, stoic and powerful, but wanted nothing more than to be told what to do, how to act, and to be completely owned. 

 Of course, there were exceptions to the rule and Hoseok’s talent showed with how well he adapted. Every now and then, a woman like her would show up and wanted to exert the same dominance she exudes in real life. He’d play along, happily, easily keeping the customer satisfied. He has been around and to this day, he’s still one of the best and there isn’t a woman he’d fail to make scream his name. 

 But something is different, between all those women and someone like her, if her email is anything to go by. Yes, they too wanted it to be as discreet as possible, which is the exact reason Hoseok and any of his previous and present employees were champions at discretion. But they… none of them acted disgusted, ashamed, as if it is below them to pay for the pleasure. And he could hear that tone in every single word of her email. 

 It annoyed him if he was to be honest with himself. If someone were to see him, especially someone who has known him for years, they would be able to tell. Hoseok has one of those faces that cannot hide emotions unless he exerts great effort. And usually, when he’s angry, he doesn’t really bother hiding it. It’s written in his scowl, in his pursed lips, in the way he angles his head as he stares at her picture, taken at one of those fancy events he makes a point to avoid. Her email annoyed him, much more than it should have, probably. She was one of a kind and not in a good way. 

 The plan of action seems easy enough. Jimin is his best when it comes to breaking down spoiled little rich girls like these - he would have her eating her words in no time, and Hoseok could rake up the price because he would be giving her his best employee. 

 But… where’s the fun in that? 

 Jimin may be his best employee by far, but Hoseok knows he could do it better. Jimin himself told him to get back in the field, to get the gears going and find the joy in it. And while fucking people for money had lost its charm a while ago, something about this woman and her

r offer tickled him… The mere idea of her, being so full of it and acting like this is the most shameful thing she’s ever done, only to have him turn it around on her, smiling as he watches her drop to your knees, begging him to fuck her the hardest he can. 

 Oh, how she would look good on her knees… 

 Looking at her photo and imagining the sight was easy. After all, he does have a vivid imagination. And the way his cock started to harden at the very thought was all he needed to know that doing this is exactly what needs to be done. 

 She made a point of explaining how she wants nothing sexual from their services, and Hoseok will make a point to change that. Even if it means doing it himself. 

 “Jungkook, is everything that was set for Friday rescheduled? I don’t want a full schedule a day before the weekend conference,” you tell your assistant, remembering that you definitely had a decently packed schedule set and that it needed to be changed. 

 “Of course, Miss,” Jungkook answers immediately, offering you a small smile. “Everything from that Friday is moved to the two weeks that follow the conference. And everything that you may need is organized in our shared google drive, in case you need access.”

 “Good, thank you Jungkook,” you compliment him with a smile, relieved for the nth time that he does his job well. Perhaps the time has finally come for you to stop second-guessing him about every little thing he does, as he is yet to fail you thus far. “I’d hate it if I had to ping you on the weekend to send me something. Friday, as well - you deserve that day off.” 

 “Miss, I’ve been your assistant for more than a year now, and so far, you only ever called me once on the weekend,” he points out with a cheeky smile he sometimes offers you. “Of all the bosses I had, you are the one who respects my working hours the most. Trust me, if you needed something urgently, I wouldn’t mind it at all.” 

 “As much as I double-check you all the time, you still are the very best assistant I’ve ever had,” you tell him, looking away quickly when you catch him blushing. While you have no qualms about complimenting workers that deserve it, Jungkook is someone you work with much closer than you do with the rest - he is a healthy mix of an employee, a casual friend and on hectic days, your lifeline. Praising him doesn’t come naturally to you like it does with the rest of your employees, but he still deserves it. “You did manage to reserve the presidential suite, right?” you check, wondering if any of the resident assholes attending the conference had managed to beat you to it. 

 “The absolute best one, Miss,” Jungkook announces, looking incredibly proud of himself for that. “It’s absolutely huge, I’d argue even too big for just one person.” 

 “Don’t mind that,” you say as you shake your hand. “I like to have my space.” 

 That’s a lie, a total and complete lie, but as much as you and Jungkook are toying with friendship, you don’t feel comfortable letting him know that if all goes well, you will have a professional escort joining you on this trip. There is a point when some information isn’t needed and is incredibly unprofessional, and saying it would definitely cross said line. 

 “Then I think you’re going to love it.” 

 “Thank you, Jungkook,” you thank him and smile kindly at the man. “You may take your break now, I will be neck-deep in paperwork for the remainder of the day, from the looks of it,” you say, frowning at the incredibly thick stack of papers sitting at the corner of your desk. If there is one thing that you hate with every fiber of your being, it’s paperwork and unfortunately for you, that is what you’re stuck with most, especially these days. Making sure that every duck is in its place before the shareholder’s meeting is always what requires most paperwork. It’s unavoidable but if you start today, you will have it all ready before you have to leave for the damn conference. 

 “If you need my help, don’t hesitate to call for me, Miss,” Jungkook tells you. 

 “I will, thank you.” 

Numbers were never your favorite thing to do, but you’ve learned how to navigate through the tediousness of it all and get the work done. After all, you did find some kind of comfort in doing the math in the complete silence of your office, with no noise bothering you other than the one you made, whether by playing with your pen or clicking your heels on the floor in a steady rhythm. It was nice, comfortable, the zone in which you are almost meditating - that’s how it felt like for you. Of course, it’s not always like that but now it is. 

 The only thing that could make you snap out of the zone you were in was your goddamn telephone, and you aren’t surprised at all when that’s exactly what happens - if it’s not the papers, it’s the phone calls, and right now, it’s both. Annoyed, you blindly reach for the wretched thing, answering it without lifting your eyes from the numbers in front of you. 

 “Y/N speaking,” you casually mumble. 

 “Good morning, Miss Y/N,” an unfamiliar voice answers. “I’m calling in regards to the email I received last night; I believe it was sent around 3 AM?” 

 You nearly drop your phone. Obviously, you were expecting some form of a response, whether agreement or refusal, but you definitely didn’t expect it to come in the form of a phone call. Did you even add your number to the email? No way you did that, you are smarter than that. Besides, this is your work number, not the personal one. 

 “Oh. Yes, indeed, I did send an email late last night,” you confirm. Or early this morning, depending on how one chooses to look at it - it was a product of your overthinking mind and one of many sleepless nights in a row. “May I ask how did you get my phone number? I don’t recall adding that information to the email?” 

 “Ah, I took the liberty to look you up online,” the man answers casually. How dumb of you to not predict this happening? You signed the email after all, after a long internal debate. “We tend to run thorough background checks before accepting someone as a client but the subject of your email, paired with the fact that you somehow found the email address I do not use for business, called for a brief check before any further discussion. And your phone number is neatly placed on your company’s profile.” 

 Damn it. You need to tell your IT team to put a burner number there - you were thus far lucky in avoiding random phone calls, but this is a warning sign. 

 “If we do reach an agreement on the services your company offers, I will gladly share the name of the person who gave me your email,” you tell him, choosing to protect Namjoon for as long as possible. As much as he reassured you that the person is his friend, he did give you the contact on a whim. “May I ask who I am speaking with? You know my name and number, it’s only fair I know the same?” 

 “Jung Hoseok,” he answers. God, how can someone have such a cocky voice? You were oblivious of it at first, too surprised by the call itself to organize your thoughts, but now it was obvious. Just the way he says his name exudes cockiness. “I will gladly give you more details on my background but I can’t do that over the phone. As much as you value your privacy, I value mine as well. Now, this entire way of doing business isn’t common for me, but it’s safe to assume that it’s brand new for you, too. Would you feel comfortable meeting me to discuss further details? In a place of your choosing, of course. We wouldn’t want anyone to find out about this now, would we?” 

 The mockery in his tone is painfully obvious. As much as it annoys you, it’s clear that you can’t do much about it. If this was a regular business deal, a situation that you are used to and know how to navigate, you would put your foot down and put him in his place. You’d waste no time in reminding him who he’s speaking to. However, this situation is anything but normal and even if it’s for the duration of this phone call, you need to play it by his rules. Even if you’re completely unaware of what his rules exactly are. 

 “I agree, we absolutely wouldn’t want anyone to find out,” you say, playing along. “How does tomorrow night sound to you? I would send you the exact time and address? May I use this phone number as a way of contact?” 

 “Yes to both,” he answers, drawing out his words in a manner that reminds you of purring - if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was trying to flirt. “I look forward to meeting you in person, Miss Y/N.” 

 “Likewise,” you lie without batting an eye. “Have a lovely day,” you end the conversation as fast as you can, fumbling with the phone as you hang up. Taking a deep breath, you place the phone on the very edge of your desk, as far away from you as possible. You treat the phone as if it’s radioactive, as if touching it would make you burn. 

 As far as conversation goes, this has to be the weirdest one you’ve had in your life. The prospect of what you have agreed to and what you are yet to agree with is brand new and if you were honest with yourself, very frightening. But like you told him last night when you frantically wrote that email out, this is your last resort and you did try to avoid it. 

 You reap what you sow, is something your father always says. Time and time again, you watched his words prove to be true, and this time will be no different. You’ve created this awkward mess for yourself and now you have to learn how to navigate it, whilst keeping a firm hold on the remnants of your dignity. A challenge, if you ever saw one. 

 But first, more pressing matters await - the paperwork isn’t going to organize itself. 

You are early - you always are. Tardiness has been a major pet peeve of yours even when you were a child. If there is one thing that you hate, it’s waiting, whether it's for a potential client or for Santa to bring those damn toys you were promised. 

 The restaurant you choose was one of your favorites, both with the food they serve and the privacy they offer. One too many first dates took place here, and even if the majority never got to the second date, you did know very well you could trust the privacy of the place. You always went for a secluded table, one that is away from prying eyes and unwanted attention. 

 Taking the little window of time before your company arrives, you look over the notes that you have prepared. You are nothing if not thorough - this situation called for questions, suggestions, and a detailed plan. God, the man will probably mock you! The thought itself, of him laughing at you, makes you agitated, flicking through your notes faster, trying to ignore the clicking sounds your heels make as you bounce your legs restlessly. Nervousness is written all over your face and in your movements and you don’t even bother searching for inner stability, as you know there’s no way you’ll find it, and not finding it will likely make you feel even worse. You’re a mess and it’s just something you’ll have to accept. As much as you strive for it, you can’t always come out on top, especially not in an abnormal situation such as the one you are presently in. 

 If this doesn’t end well, you will strangle Namjoon with your bare hands. Taking the email from him and holding onto his promise that the receiver will know how to help you seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it’s anything but. If this backfires, and it easily can, he will definitely be in your line of fire. 

 “Miss Y/N?” 

 So engrossed in your papers, you failed to notice the man approaching you. How stupid of you, really. Not only did you not have a chance to take a deep breath to brace yourself for his arrival, but you completely failed to prepare yourself for him looking as good as he does. 

 Handsome seems like too weak of a word to describe him. Standing, he towers over you, dressed in one of those expensive suits, his head cocked to the side in interest as his eyes scan your form. His face shows no reaction, at least not an immediate one, but his eyes aren’t kind either. For a moment too long, you are lost in his features, especially in the sharpness of his jaw. He took you by surprise and swallowing a lump, you try to save yourself and hold onto what’s left of your dignity, all the while ignoring the way his eyes travel from you to the heap of papers in front of you. The fucking notes. 

 “Jung Hoseok, I presume?” you find yourself uttering, praying to god that your tone of voice doesn’t show what your face and body already uncovered. 

 “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N,” he politely announces, extending his hand to you. You take it in yours, shaking it without hesitation, firmly, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes are burning into you, to the point of it being borderline uncomfortable, as if he has x-ray vision, or knows something that you don’t. 

 “Y/N, please,” you correct him casually, pairing it with a small, firm smile. “The pleasure is mine. Please, join me,” you say, pointing towards the empty chair across the table from you. Watching as he drags the chair and sits down, you give yourself a total of three seconds to gather your thoughts before you start forcing out words with no prior thought, just for the sake of keeping a conversation going. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. Your willingness to accommodate my, for the lack of a better word, request, is much appreciated.” 

 “I must say, it is definitely not a request I get often,” he comments through laughter, casually leaning back in his chair - he even sits as if he owns the place, and by some miracle, it doesn’t seem forced. You see it way too often, men putting on that kind of act. So often, in fact, it becomes easy to tell apart those who truly are that kind of character from those that are acting, desperate to leave a strong impression. It seems so natural with him, his entire persona, physique, and facial expression just oozing confidence, bordering on cockiness. 

 “Do people not want company in social settings? Is it not a service your company offers?” you wonder, suddenly incredibly self-conscious about the kind of service you are asking for. Namjoon had assured you that it is absolutely something that House of Lust can offer, swearing on his life that you wouldn’t regret listening to him. Now, you are a self-conscious mess, pretending to keep shit under control, while melting under the gaze of the man across from you, a gaze that still feels very much intrusive, but somehow not entirely inappropriate. 

 “Oh no, they do,” he responds, somehow managing to confuse you even more with his answer. “They just tend to do it over more common lines of communication - not on my personal email in the early hours of the morning.” 

 “Ah,” you sigh, ignoring the wave of warmth hitting your cheeks. “I again apologize for reaching out to you in such a way. You must understand, this is a delicate subject for me and I would like it to occur in the most discreet of ways.”

 “Yes, you pointed that out quite clearly,” he comments, one of his eyebrows shooting up in a way that confirms that something about the way you approached him doesn’t sit right with him. Is it your approach, however, or was it something that you’ve said? Did you perhaps insult him somehow? “Rest assured, this is as discreet as it can get.” 

 You stay silent, observing his reactions. It was completely useless, as he remained largely expressionless, his eyes focused on yours, waiting for you to speak. As soon as you realized that you won’t be able to read him, you decided to speak on your own. “Alright, then,” you manage to utter, forcing a smile. “If I may ask, how do we proceed from now?” 

 “Why don’t we order something to eat perhaps, and then focus on the details?” he suggests, while at the same time lifting his hand up to call for the waiter — a waiter that shows up as if out of thin air, likely having been watching the two of you and waiting for a signal. 

 You are impatient but order the usual regardless; a simple vegetable pasta and red wine is your way to go. Fast to prepare and difficult to get drunk on. Paying no mind to his own words, you focus on the notes in front of you, where one word is underlined, pointed out like a flashing signal. Backstory. 

 “Did you bring notes?” he asks, not bothering to hide his surprise. 

 “Mind is a fickle thing,” you say, casually shrugging. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it's that it’s better to write things down than to rely on memory. Now,” you pause, checking to see if the waiter is far away, unable to hear your conversation. “I’d like to know who you will pair me up with. I think that the more I know, the easier it’ll be for me to come up with a brief but believable backstory. In case we are asked questions, and judging by my experience, we will be,” you add, not bothering to hide the bitterness in your voice. 

 This isn’t your first rodeo, or to be more specific, conference. There are plenty of reasons why you wanted a companion for this one, a male companion. Sure, his presence will perhaps invoke different kinds of questions but at the very least, it would be a bit more colorful than what you have gotten used to now - why are you single, are you that scary, why don’t we meet, I’m telling you, our marriage would shake the business world to the core, and so on and so on. You’ve heard it all, or so you think. And perhaps this time around, if you have a man by your side, you may actually manage to avoid it. 

 “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you wanted the very best?” Hoseok asks, no longer looking at you in the judgmental manner he did before. He can recognize that now, it’s time for business. 

 “I have, but in this particular situation I must admit I am not picky,” you answer him honestly. “All I need is someone who is charming enough to be deemed likable and good enough of an actor to make our, quote-unquote, romantic relationship believable,” you tell him. 

 “And you want to be absolutely sure no one knows the nature of his work?” he asks. 

 “Oh yes,” you confirm immediately. How could you have forgotten to mention that after making it so obvious in the first email? “It’s very important that no one knows that he works for hire. It’s… As legal as prostitution is, in those circles, it’s still very much frowned upon. It would likely be the finest kind of sabotage if they were to find out about his occupation.” 

 “I’m afraid that limits your pool of choices,” Hoseok laughs, stopping his words just in time for the waiter to serve you your drinks. Both of you stay uncomfortably quiet, only thanking the waiter in low voices, before waiting to be sure you are alone yet again. “This may come as a surprise to you, Miss Y/N, but quite a few successful businessmen, and women, often knock on our doors in search of company. There is a very strong possibility that one, or more, would easily recognize the man keeping you company.” 

 That is not something that you’ve considered, at all. You should have, in hindsight. The vast majority of those on the attendance list is unmarried and it only makes sense that they rent their company, if for nothing else, than to satiate their desires. 

 “How do we go around it, then?” you ask him. “And please, just Y/N,” you remind him. 

“Well Y/N, I’d suggest that you go for a worker that hasn’t been in action for a long while.” 

 “And that is?” 

 “You’re looking at him,” he announces, cocking his head, smirking at you slightly. You say nothing, completely taken aback by his suggestion. You thought that you would be meeting some sort of executive, not the man that you will be renting. 

 “Have you… done this before?” you find yourself asking. “I’m sorry, I’m just confused by this. I wasn’t aware that you thought that you’re the man for the job.” 

 “Because for a long while, I wasn’t,” he chuckles, dramatically pausing to taste his red wine again. You wait in silence for the continuation; what else can you do? “Y/N, I am the owner of House of Lust. Whoever gave you that email address, they’ve sent you directly to the top.” 

 “Oh,” you manage to utter, silently promising yourself that yes, you absolutely will murder Namjoon with your bare hands - this kind of plot twist deserved a heads up. “I was… absolutely not aware of that, my apologies. But, if you are the owner… Why would you bother with this? Isn’t it a little bit-” you struggle to find the appropriate words. 

 “Beneath me?” he offers, the dead expression on his face making you flinch immediately. 

 “Well, for the lack of a better phrase, yes,” you answer honestly. “Why would you do it?” 

 “The main reason is that I, in fact, really am the best,” he casually answers, confidence oozing out of every word that leaves his mouth. It’s the kind of confidence that you feel unable to match, with your hands shaking as you reach for your glass. You are very much aware that he can recognize and read your behavior, perfectly aware of how you’re reacting to him and how nervous he makes you. This is all new for you, he isn’t an equal partner and you are very much out of your depth - you know it, he knows it, and a part of you wonders if he relishes it. If this is the exact thing that makes him tick - the notion that he can make someone feel that way without giving it much effort. “And the second reason is that I haven’t left the office to go in the field in years. The chances of someone knowing I am an escort is smaller than minimal,” he adds. 

 “But they would know who you are, wouldn’t they?” you ask. “There is no way that at least someone who is attending that conference wouldn’t recognize you as the owner of the House of Lust, right?” 

 “Would you rather be arms linked with an escort or with one of the richest men in the country?” he asks, raising his eyebrows, challenging you with his question. The answer is simple, of course. It’s only that you’d rather be seen with neither if you’re being honest. 

 “If those are the only options that I have, the answer is easy,” you tell him, looking away to seek solace in your wine, not wanting to see the reaction on his face, if there is any. To be fair, you are likely giving him much credit to begin with. In order to play games, he’d actually have to be interested. While you may not know much, you can definitely tell when someone is or isn’t interested in you. And he definitely falls into the latter group. 

 “I gave this plenty of thought, Y/N,” he says, offering you what seems like a kind smile, but something tells you it’s not as legitimate as it looks. “That would also make any kind of backstory more believable. We can simply say that we’ve met over a mutual friend of ours, the ones that provided you with my contact, and say that we are still getting to know each other. Being caught in a lie would be virtually impossible in that situation.” 

 “You make a good point,” you find yourself agreeing, nodding your head. “But what escapes me is why would you do that? If you are one of the richest men in the country, someone who does all the business and not… playing the field, why would you want to do that now? Yes, I know you want to give me the best, and apparently, you are that, but what’s in it for you?” 

 “Well, for one, money,” he answers casually, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his legs - he truly goes a long way to make sure he plays his role perfectly. He’s cocky to the point of him being borderline annoying - which is exactly what he would be if he wasn’t as good-looking as he is. “You made it very clear that money isn’t a problem, so I will not hesitate to charge you accordingly. And, aside from that, I must admit that the office gets quite boring. In my former line of work, one has to be an actor - a very good actor, in fact. Many times, you need to pretend that you are attracted to the one who pays for your company. Other times, you must pretend you find them interesting. There’s a whole lot of acting involved and it’s been years since I had to do it. A part of me misses it, in all honesty. And since you were oh so very clear about not wanting anything sexual, I see this as a perfect opportunity to play around just enough to keep myself entertained, while at the same time making sure House of Lust delivers the best to a well-paying customer.” 

 “Wow,” you say through laughter, a shocked one. It’s not every day that you find someone as painfully honest as he seems to be. He just told you that he’d be using you for his own benefit, however harmless that is. And while you would generally have a problem with being used so openly, this is a situation where you both have itches that only the other could scratch. “I very much appreciate your honesty. I think you may be a good choice, if things will be as you say they are,” you admit, definitely feeling more confident about this entire ordeal than you were when you first reached out to him. “Now, the final thing. The price?” you remind him, raising your eyebrow as you prepare for an astronomical number. 

 “I’m afraid I can’t give you the exact number straight away,” he warned. “It depends on many, many things. I could give you a general number, of course, but there is also the little hiccup of me having a benefit in this deal - which obliges me to lower the price. But, if there will be press, and I imagine that there will be, that lifts the price up.” 

 “Oh, there will definitely be press,” you offer, scoffing. “There always is. For some godforsaken reason, everyone is more interested in who is seen, with whom, in what attire, than they are in the actual work we do. Feel free to hike up the price because of that - I know how tedious that part is.” 

 “Very well,” he concluded. “I will send you a general number tonight via email, once I give it more thought if that’s alright with you?” 

 “Absolutely,” you agree without hesitation. When you said that the price is not an issue, you’ve meant it. From the very beginning, despite all your worries and hesitation, you were ready to pay for the service no matter how high the price may be. After all, if this initial meeting is anything to go by, it’ll end up being worth it. 

 “Now, before the food arrives, we should talk about the backstory,” he suggested. “Based on my experience, the simpler we keep it, the better it is for both of us. Less to remember, less room for mistakes. Let’s make use of those notes of yours, Y/N,” he told you, pointing at the papers next to you in a way that you can only describe as mocking. 

 He is a whiplash of a person, that’s what he is. One moment, you think you know exactly where you stand and the next, you are painfully reminded how he has the upper hand. For reasons you can’t explain, you can’t be your bossy, confident self that you are on a day-to-day basis. You can only hope that it’s because he’s essentially a stranger, and hope that in the days to come, especially during the conference, you will gain enough confidence to maybe, just maybe, have the upper hand. Who knows, maybe you even end up surprising him? It’s easy to see how he has a formed opinion of you - lost, perhaps even meek, and definitely out of her depth. And if that is indeed what is on his mind, he is absolutely correct. But there is one thing that he doesn’t know and that you hope he will find out - you can adapt easily and once you do, once you move things to your turf, you can turn unstoppable. 

 “Alright then,” you agree, sitting up straight and reaching for your notes. “I think we should say that the relationship is incredibly new and recent. That way, if someone catches us slipping, or saying something absolutely untrue, we can blame it on us “still getting to know one another”,” you sigh, using air quotes to prove your point. 

 “Smart girl,” he quips with a smile and for a moment, you are frozen in your tracks. The way he says it, the way he puts himself above you… Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. No one “girls” you. No smart girl, good girl, or anything of the sort, no man is allowed to speak down to you like that. It’s one thing if it’s jokingly, in the midst of banter. This way? With a sexual undertone, paired with a smirk, as a praise, he assumes you’re searching for? Absolutely not. He may have a bit of an upper hand, but you are not a pushover. 

 “And what else does our “smart boy” suggest?” 

 You could see his jaw firm at your choice of words. Good. Maybe this way, he’ll be reminded of his place. He may be an alpha male, but he’s also an alpha male you’re paying for. 

 “We could add that what attracted me to you is your feistiness,” he teased, to which you laugh, out loud and unashamed. 

 “Good one, Hoseok. Good one,” you seethed but wrote it down nonetheless. As annoying as it is to write those words down, it’s definitely believable. He wouldn’t be the first person to point out your feistiness. Although, it’s usually in the context of irritation, not attraction. It’s the case now, but you will have to sell it as something sexy this weekend - you can only hope he’s as good of an actor as he claims he is. “What else do we have here? How long have we been dating?” you ask as you skim through your notes. 

 “Hmm, I’d say a month,” he suggests. “It’s long enough to not raise eyebrows at you inviting me as a date for the conference, but short enough to explain any gaffs we may have.”

 “Agreed,” you mumble, noting that down quickly. “And for the sake of transparency, we say that Kim Namjoon is the one who introduced us?” 

 “Ah,” he laughs, rolling his eyes as he does. “I should have known it was him to give you my contact. That’s… very Namjoon of him.” 

 “Oh, I agree - just as it’s very Namjoon of him to not give me the heads up and say that I am contacting the actual owner and not just one of the higher-ups. Would it be too much to assume that one of us will murder him by the time the conference is over?” you joke. 

 “Without a doubt,” he chuckles. “I’ll let you do the honors, though. I’m sure that he will give me plenty of reasons in the future.” 

 “That makes the two of us,” you find yourself commiserating with him, although you both laugh at the idea of Namjoon wronging you in the most random of ways. “Now, where were we… ah yes. So, we met over Namjoon. Should it be a blind date situation?” 

“Good afternoon,” you smile at the receptionist, sliding your ID card over the counter to him. “I have the presidential suite reserved on my name,” you add. 

 “Ah yes, welcome Miss,” the young man on the other side of the counter stutters. Why he does that is beyond you, but you don’t acknowledge it in any way. You simply smile at him as he does his thing, typing on the computer at the speed of light. “I see you will be joined by Mr. Jung Hoseok?” he checks. 

 “Yes, my company will arrive later in the day,” you confirm, glad that you have followed Hoseok’s suggestion of not arriving at the exact same time, as that would draw more attention right from the get-go. “I trust you to accommodate him as soon as he arrives.” 

 “Of course, Miss,” the receptionist nods, still typing away on his computer. “We will have your luggage sent away immediately, and you can enter the suite whenever you decide to, here is your key,” he adds, barely looking away from the monitor to give you one of those magnetic keys, which you take, already ready to make your way upstairs, for a much-needed shower and a period of rest - you are in desperate need of one, it wasn’t a short drive. 

 “Would you look at that!” A booming voice sounds behind you, making you close your eyes briefly and sigh, as you instantly recognize the owner of it - the one and only, Kim Taehyung, successful businessmen, decent competition, and the very bane of your existence. “I was wondering if I’d see you here, Y/N. As always, you are a sight for sore eyes.” 

 You turn around, not surprised to see a cocky smirk on his face. As per usual, Kim Taehyung was being both ironic and flirty at the same time. He always carried the vibe of a man who knows that everybody wants him, and if you were to be honest with yourself, that’s very likely the truth. He’s handsome, incredibly rich, and to some, very charming. Not for you, though. Not when you have been on the receiving end of his backhanded compliments for years now. Handsome and rich he may be, but he is still your least favorite person to mingle with. 

 “Pleasure to see you, Taehyung,” you lie as you force a smile on your face. With him, you didn’t bother much with pretending. Normally, if you were faced with someone you don’t particularly like, you’d give an effort to hide that. With Taehyung, the best he can expect from you is to be somewhat cordial in public. 

 “Did I hear that right, Y/N?” he asks, stepping closer to you and towards the reception counter. “You have someone joining you this weekend?” he asks. 

 “Yes, your hearing is as impeccable as it always was,” you say, trying to keep the bitterness in your voice to a minimum. “I will have a date for this weekend.” 

 “May I know who the lucky man is?” he asks shamelessly, his eyes glowing with either gossip material or competition - you’ve lost count of how many times Kim Taehyung had tried to sleaze his way into your bed. “Or woman? I’m not sure which team you’re playing for.” 

 “I’m not sure how that is any of your business, but to satisfy your never-ending curiosity, it is a man,” you answer, ignoring him for a moment as you thank the bellboy that had already managed to pack your luggage on one of those fancy trolleys. You watch as he makes his way to the elevator, deciding to make a beeline to the suite as soon as you can get rid of the pest in front of you. “And who he is doesn’t matter - after all, you will meet him tonight.” 

 “Ah, but I want to know now,” Taehyung laughs, leaning onto the counter, even going as far as to prop his elbow on it. You notice the receptionist gives him a quick once-over, but he stays silent. Good choice, in your opinion - if he were to try hard enough, Taehyung could and absolutely would try to get him fired. “You know how I am. I want to know it all. Now.” 

 “Eh, you’ll survive not knowing for a couple of hours more,” you chuckle, shrugging casually. For only a second, his perfectly crafted expression cracks and you can notice the trace of frustration on him - it’s in the way his jaw locks. Men tend to do that quite often, which makes it all the easier for you to read them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be making my way to the suite. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up at tonight's matinee,” you say, offering him one last sour smile before you walk away, leaving him there, still propped on the reception counter. The little energy and patience you have are meant to last you the entire weekend - there is no way in hell you’ll allow a Kim Taehyung to test it this early on. 

 The suite is everything you expected it to be and more - the photos on the website don’t do it justice. With one enormous common room, two separate bedrooms with adjacent bathrooms, both you and Hoseok will have plenty of space to avoid one another without making the situation awkward. The style of the suite itself is a little bit too fancy for your liking - it’s the kind of expensive furniture that makes you hesitant to sit on it or use it, in the fear of somehow damaging it. Antique in style and screaming privilege, it wouldn’t be what you would normally go for, but it’s definitely what you need for this weekend. Besides, it’s also what you want Hoseok to have - a stay in the finest suite is something you have promised. 

 You take the room on the left, taking your time as you unpack your clothes - some business casual, what you will be in the most, some elegant with just a dash of sex appeal, what you will wear for dinners and drinks. And among it, of course, just enough oversized cotton clothes that you plan on wearing while here, safely hidden away from prying eyes. Your favorite Snoopy pajamas are calling for you already, but they will have to wait. They will have to wait until you are absolutely sure there is no way of Hoseok catching you off-guard like that. For now, all you can do is rest and wait for his arrival. 

 He was the one who insisted on arriving separately. You agreed easily, simply because it was a long drive and if given a choice, you would rather avoid spending so much time with him one on one. Once the one dinner you’ve shared was over, your level of comfort around him did not change one bit. Yes, he was no longer a complete stranger but he also wasn’t someone that would put you at ease. Besides, his logic is impeccable - arriving together, checking in together, will make your relationship far more serious than it is in reality. After all, you are not planning on renting him out on a regular basis - ideally, this will be a one-time thing. One day, you may end up having an actual partner to join you for these tedious conferences, and then, you’d happily flaunt him. Hoseok is… an unfortunate necessity. 

 Once done with the oddly soothing task of unpacking, you fall face-first into the entirely way too big bed - a king-size bed is undoubtedly going to emphasize the fact that after all, you are alone. At home, with a much smaller bed than this, things like these are easily ignorable, so much so they become irrelevant. Now, the empty space next to you is prominent, noticeable, almost as if a spotlight is shining directly onto the satin covers. 

 If this is your biggest problem in life, you’d argue that you may not have a problem at all. 

The first light tap makes you think you still may be dreaming - you wouldn’t put it past you to have weird dreams, it’s hardly a rare occurrence. The second light tap made you feel annoyed because that’s exactly what it is - annoying. The third tap wasn’t a single one and also wasn’t light - it was a series of louder knocks, and it’s what finally made you realize that this wasn’t a bizarre dream. Opening your eyes, you blink a few times to get used to the brightness - the sun still hasn’t set fully, the light still coming through the large, wall-sized windows, and all the walls around you are a blinding white. As soon as you blink the sleep away, you find the source of the knocks - Jung Hoseok, leaning casually against the doorframe, looking at you in a way that your sleeping self decides is half-mocking, half-pitying. The way his lips quirk at the sight of your sleepy self, you are sure you’re on point. 

 “Did you just arrive?” you ask, flinching at how hoarse sleep had made your voice - you are not a morning person, nor are you a fully-functioning-after-an-impromptu-nap person. 

 “Good morning,” he ironically quips, to which you don’t even bother hiding an eye roll. “And no, I arrived about an hour ago. After I got settled, I took some time to look at the agenda and if you’re planning to attend this afternoon’s matinee, I think you should start getting ready for it, because it starts in half an hour.” 

 “Shit!” you yell, jumping out of the bed so fast, you give yourself brief whiplash. Holding onto the bed’s heading, you stabilize yourself and quickly gather your bearings and plan of action. “Okay. I will be ready on time. Will you be ready, too?” 

 “Of course; it’s what I’m paid to do, after all,” he announces rather theatrically. You give a non-committal nod, waiting for him to exit the room - which he doesn’t. He continues standing there, staring you down, making you wonder if he’s expecting you to change in front of him or something. The staring contest continues for a moment too long before you break it. 

 “Do you mind?” you ask, nodding towards the main room of the suite. Acting as if he had just realized what he was doing, he chuckles and casually steps away, closing the door behind him. A sigh of relief escapes you the moment you are safe from his view. 

 Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for the best. The best tend to be cocky - and Jung Hoseok, in your mind, is the living proof of that. It’s too soon to tell for sure, you’ll give him that, but while he may seem well put together and like perfect arm candy, there’s something about his very presence that makes you wonder if he really was a bad choice. 

 Either way, it’s too late to make any sudden changes. You are where you are, and now you will just have to weather it, hoping that it won’t be as cumbersome as it seems to be now. 

He is dressed expensively, just like he was the night the two of you met - a tailor-made suit, minus the tie, one button too many unbuttoned, just enough to reveal his collar bones for any prying eyes but definitely not enough to raise eyebrows, hair slicked back and the most charming smile that you’ve ever seen. It’s borderline blinding, no matter how fake it is. He is an amazing actor, especially when he links your arm with yours and takes you through the room, blinding you with that smile of his because he knows that everyone in the room is looking your way. 

 “You really are good at this,” you praise him before you could give it a second thought. Once the words are out, you can only hope he won’t take advantage of it. 

 “Good at what?” he asks, but he shows no confusion on his face, still pretending as if the two of you are having the most casual, lovey-dovey conversation. “Knowing how to navigate a room full of people whose ego could make the earth tilt?” he prompts and you chuckle. 

 “I would have phrased it differently, but that’s exactly what it is,” you reluctantly agree, and the reluctance is coming from the notion that you are not that different from the rest of them. Sure, you may not be a carbon copy, but the people he is describing… you’re not too far from them yourself. He must know it, too. At no point will you believe that anything Jung Hoseok says is accidental. “We will only stay here as long as we must - follow what’s socially acceptable and what not. I don’t want to be here one second longer than you do.” 

 “Oh, au contraire, my love,” he chuckles, and the pet name makes you visibly flinch - that was never something the two of you have agreed on, even though in this context, it makes perfect sense; after all, he is pretending to be your partner, boyfriend, lover, whatever it else that is the most appropriate. “I have a feeling that I will be having great fun tonight.” 

 “Hoseok,” you warn him, not bothering to hide a glare you throw his way. “We are doing this the way we planned on doing it. I’m not letting you swing some Don Juan bullshit thing on me.” 

 “Oh, language,” he giggles, wiggling his eyebrows as he looks at you. “Look at you, my love. And here I thought there wasn’t a feisty bone in your body.” 

 “Stop it,” you say, and this time it’s a clear order. “This is not what we agreed on. Now smile, follow my lead, make useless conversation, and as soon as I say so, we leave.” 

 “I should have known you were very bossy, my love.” 

 You don’t give him a response to that one, recognizing that he’s trying to get a rise out of you and that he’s likely aiming to do it in a sexual way. A part of you had expected it, too - in one of those sleepless nights, somewhere between agreeing to hire him and packing up for the trip. A man like him, a man who had spent years in the industry of, well, sex, is bound to flirt up a storm. And while that is not ideal and definitely not something you’d hoped for, it’s something that comes with the deal. So no, you are not surprised when he does just that. 

 But you also know how to shut it down immediately. Not giving in to it, not playing along and most of all, no flirting back. That’s the plan that you’ve come up with in your ‘just in case’ plan that you’ve definitely spent way too much time considering. As long as you stand your ground firmly, his advances will meet a closed door and he will give up. 

 You’re not a quitter. And he’s not about to turn you into one. 

“Of all the people,” you hear his voice before you see him, as he once again decides to corner you, playing on the element of surprise. “Of all the people on this planet, in this country, in this city even, you end up on the arm of Jung Hoseok?” Taehyung asks in complete bewilderment. No, he doesn’t even bother hiding his surprise, and he is not the one to show his emotions easily. Him knowing Hoseok’s full name does induce a tingle of panic within you, but there isn’t much you can do about it. Lying about his identity would have been stupid and if you had done that, Taehyung would have called you out on it, as he had just proven. You may have caught a bullet, but you’ve dodged an automatic shotgun. 

 “What in the world is wrong with Jung Hoseok?” you ask, laughing in fake confusion. 

You yourself could answer that question in your own way, but it’s evident that your reasoning and Taehyung’s are definitely not the same. Looking over Taehyung’s shoulder, you observe Hoseok doing his damn best. He is socializing, circulating the room without you, making his company laugh, and every now and then, he lifts his hand to point your way, likely explaining how he ended up here. He is doing the exact thing you’re paying him to do - act as your shield, as your changing screen, or for the lack of a better term, a body you can hide behind. 

 The only negative is that he still somehow can’t keep you away from Taehyung and his audacious, never-ending questioning. 

 “Nothing’s wrong with the man himself, but the two of you as a pair?” Taehyung scoffs. “I never thought you’d end up with the king of the sex industry.”

 “Oh, is that what he’s known for?” you laugh in surprise. Admittedly, you never heard anyone call him that, but you did know people would know who he is. As Hoseok himself had said, would you rather be called out for renting an escort or for dating an entrepreneur? 

 “You make it sound as if you have no idea what he does for a living,” Teahyung comments dismissively. 

 “I know what he does for a living, Taehyung - it just doesn’t change the way I see him,” you explain. “Besides, why is this of interest to you? Don’t get me wrong, I know you’re the resident gossiper and that for reasons unknown to me, I am one of your favorite topics, but this truly is none of your business. Nor something I want your opinion on.” 

 “I’m just pointing out that you deserve better,” he announces, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. You say nothing for a bit, giving him a good look. Handsome as ever, dressed to the T, every young woman’s dream personified, the most eligible bachelor around. And yet to you, he is nothing but a pest, an annoyance, someone who reminds you of everything you dislike about the world you were born into and chose to stay in. 

 “Maybe I do deserve better,” you say with a noncommittal shrug. “But I’m perfectly alright with what I have right now. Have a good evening, Taehyung,” you say, signaling to him that you hope he won’t be approaching you again. Whether he respects that or not is yet to be seen, but you’ve made your opinion clear. Taking your gin and tonic from the bar, you casually stroll away from him, making your way through the crowd and towards Hoseok. Smiles are exchanged along the way, nods as well, you and others acknowledge one another in passing, but you do not stop to chat. Not now, not when you don’t have your body shield. Taehyung is the prime example of what you were trying to avoid, the reason why you reached out to Hoseok for help to begin with - if you’re paying for the service, you’ll use it. 

 “Ah, there she is,” Hoseok theatrically announces while you’re still a few feet away from him and his current conversation partner, Kim Seokjin, one of the few likable people around. “I was wondering when you’ll offer me your attention, love,” Hoseok tells you with a teasing smile, wasting no time to wrap his arm around your waist when you stand next to him. It’s a gentle grip, one that shows that you are with him but also gives you space to move away from it discreetly if it is uncomfortable. You don’t, all too aware that you have multiple eyes on you, including Kim Seokjin’s, who looks at the two of you with a smile. 

 “I’m sorry love, you know how these things work,” you answer with a sigh. You weren’t acting at all - your social battery is drained and you want nothing more than to run and hide from this crowd, this setting, everyone and everything around. “I have to socialize and work the room, even if I’d rather just be glued to you.” 

 “Ah, young love,” Seokjin sighs, directing a kind smile towards the two of you. “On paper, the two of you would make sense to no one. In practice? I see it, I truly do.”

 “Oh, so the two of you know one another?” you ask Hoseok. You’ve seen him greet others in a manner that confirmed that they have met before, so it should come as no surprise that he knows Seokjin as well - after all, Seokjin truly is the very definition of a social butterfly. 

 “Jin and I go way back,” Hoseok informs you and you realize that you may not want to know how exactly the two of them met - is it a long-standing friendship or if Seokjin is one of the top clients of his company. “Speaking of, ‘’young love’’ is not nearly as accurate, Jin,” he adds, the two of them sharing a laugh and you smiling at the exchange. “We haven’t been considered young in a hot minute, I’m afraid.”

 “Let’s say we’re all young at heart,” Seokjin compromises, pausing to finish his drink. “Now, if you two lovebirds will excuse me, I must, as Y/N calls it, work the room. Let’s make sure to share a table at dinner tonight, alright?” 

 “You can count on that,” you reassure him with a smile. That indeed sounds like a perfect plan, since he is one of the more likable people around and Hoseok seems to be friendly enough with him to ensure that for the duration of tonight’s fancy, 5-course dinner doesn’t pass in pure and utter pain. 

 Waiting until Seokjin walks away, Hoseok turns to you with what you can only describe as a semi-concerned look on his face. “How are you holding up?” he checks in with you. It’s not like it can change anything, but the question does mean a lot to you. 

 “I’ve had better nights, I’ve had worse,” you answer honestly, shrugging. “I can’t complain too much, it’s all a part of the business. Socializing, working the room, all of it.”

 “And it’s okay to hate it, Y/N,” Hoseok interrupts you, definitely showing actual concern now. “I saw that you were speaking to Taehyung and you didn’t seem too happy with that - is he bothering you?” 

 “Oh, that would be an understatement,” you scoff, choosing to ignore the subtle movements that Hoseok’s thumb makes against you - his arm is still around you, his hand still gently holding your waist and now, he is gently circling his thumb in a calming manner. And normally, it would work, but right now you’re too on edge and too aware of his touch to find it comforting in any way. “I’ve known Taehyung pretty much since we were in diapers, and even then I disliked him. I believe the story goes that I hit him with a plastic fork from my kiddie kitchen set. Now I want to hit him with an actual fork.” 

 “I can share that sentiment,” Hoseok chuckles, offering you a kind smile. “He can be a pain, even I know that. But I also know that he will likely avoid you like a plague if you’re next to me, so I think we should stick together for the remainder of the night.”

 “No problem with that but why would he avoid me if I’m with you?” you wonder. 

 “Because I know who he hired,” Hoseok gives you a pointed look. “And I just happen to know exactly what he asked for, how often, and honestly, how kinky it got. If I were in his shoes, I’d be dead scared that I would share that information with you.”

 “Wouldn’t sharing that information harm your business?” you ask him, frowning at the very suggestion of him sharing that kind of information, about anyone, with anyone. You know for a fact that you would be very uncomfortable if you were in a situation where your personal desires and preferences are out in the open, even more so if they’re used as blackmail material. You may despise Taehyung, but you don’t want that done to him. Theoretically. 

 “Ah, that’s the thing, my lovely Y/N,” Hoseok chuckles, winking at you. “He thinks I may share that info, but I never will. The very thought of it is enough to get him on edge. No, I would never disrespect a client like that, but I would easily let him second guess my morality in that department. And I know that despite that, Taehyung will be back next week, booking his usual, because House of Lust is the best place in the business and he knows it, too.”

 “I must say, your cockiness is both impressive and disgusting at the same time and I can’t tell which of the two feelings is stronger,” you tell him; he smirks at your comment, confusing you even further. Impressive or disgusting, sexy or off-putting - the question remains. 

 “I admit, I have heard that before,” he admits, smirking down at you. “Let me ask you at the end of this weekend which one is it. But for now, let’s be good and socialize, love.”

“I swear to God, I can’t handle two more days of this,” you complain, throwing off your heels the moment Hoseok closes the suite door behind you. “So much useless chatter, so many fake smiles, it’s all so… disgusting.”

 “Why are you here then, if I may ask?” 

 “Because my absence would be noted,” you point out the obvious. “Because people don’t always pick who’s the best but who’s the closest. I may be better at my job than, let’s say, Min Yoongi is, but if Min Yoongi goes golfing with them every damn weekend, he’s gonna get it. And this is not me dissing Yoongi - he’s one of the few I can actually tolerate.”

 “Haven’t you been in the industry long enough to not have to do that?” Hoseok asks as he takes off his own shoes - much more gently than you did yours. “Not to mention that you still have the family name to fall behind on. You’re hardly an unknown person, Y/N.”

 “See, that’s the thing you have to learn about me,” you say as you offer him a pointed look. “I do not like falling behind on the family name and try to avoid it at all costs. I’m like… what the kids these days would call ‘manic pixie dream girl’, except in a business setting.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Hoseok deadpans, pure confusion painting his face. 

 “Google it,” you shrug his comment off. “Anyway, thank you so much for today. Everything went exactly like I had hoped it would. Listening to Namjoon was a good idea and you really seem to be the best in the business. So, thank you for keeping me company and I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast,” you announce your own departure, simply nodding your head once before you start to walk towards your bedroom. 

 “Sleep well, Y/N.”

 “Thanks, you too.”

 As soon as you close the door, a sigh of relief escapes you. At first, you thought that you only had the mask on for the downstairs, for the public, but your reaction as you lean against the door at ease proves to you that you had one for Hoseok, too. 

 It’s not that illogical, after all. You don’t know him and your situation is highly unusual. It would be weird if you did feel comfortable enough to be your actual self in front of him, after only spending a few hours in total with the man. No, the real Y/N makes an appearance only when her bedroom door is closed and the day is finally over and done with. 

 Your steps are heavy as you make your way to the bed, plopping down on it without much energy left in your body and proceeding to massage your ankles - even after all these years of doing it almost on a daily basis, wearing heels is still a prominent source of pain. Hours don’t feel as such when you’re on your feet, out and about, but once you can finally sit down, rest, and relax, it all comes crashing down on you. 

 If you keep this speed up, heels or no heels, you’ll be approaching a burnout soon - but that is tomorrow Y/N’s problem. The Y/N of today only has to rest, relax and shut off her mind. 

 A bubble bath sounds like an ideal plan for the evening but you can’t find the energy to force yourself to get up and move, start the bath, and whatnot - for now, you will just lounge on the bed, fully clothed, doing absolutely nothing. 

 Of course, that can’t last long. Before you know it, the phone is in your hand and the scrolling begins. Not even several seconds later, you are face to face with a candid photo of yourself with Hoseok - double-checking the Instagram account that posted it, you realize that it’s the official account of the conference. Noticing that it’s a slide post, you’re not surprised to see other big names being photographed in a similar manner, but the annoyance of your photo being the first one doesn’t miss you. There’s not much you can do about it, seeing as it is a public event, but you have no doubt that there will be questions asked about Jung Hoseok’s arm around your waist. The photo is actually decent if you’re being honest. If he wasn’t a date for hire, you would have been the couple of the evening, without a doubt. 

 But he is a date for hire and you are absolutely nothing to one another. And now, you will have to explain to others, not just the conference attendees. It’ll undoubtedly reach your father too, perhaps even the papers. 

 Of course, the thought did cross your mind before - it’s exactly why you’ve sent the email in the dead of night, all the previous hours were spent with you weighing in your options. When you pressed send, you were ready for this somehow ending up becoming public knowledge, but you held onto the foolish hope that it’ll never leave this hotel. Or, if it does, that it would be nothing more than whispered hearsay, especially if you are never seen with Hoseok again, which is exactly how it’ll end. 

 Oh, how wrong you were. Apparently, you are Instagram official now. Your actual friends, family, prospective future partners, business partners, and potential business partners, along with the press and hence, the public, will all know about your “relationship” with Jung Hoseok. 

 Oh well. As far as problems go, if this is the biggest one you have to deal with, you’re not allowed to complain too much. It’ll end with this weekend, the dust will settle and by the time another conference comes around, no one will even remember you and Hoseok together. 

 Being face to face with that photo of you suddenly gave you the exact amount of energy needed to toss your phone aside and get that bath ready. If you’re not feeling relaxed, peaceful, and zen, you might as well pretend to be. 

For a hot minute, you forgot that you’re not staying alone. Sleepy, slightly hungover despite not exactly getting drunk last night, and with a massive headache, you can only thank your lucky stars that you had enough sanity to put on a robe before leaving your room. And that robe is the only thing that prevented Hoseok from seeing you in nothing but your underwear. 

 You freeze in the doorframe like a deer in front of headlights, surprised by the sight of him - same attire, a robe, the newspaper in hand, and a bunch of food set on the dining table in front of him. And for a second, he looks as surprised as you do, eyeing you from above the paper in his hands - you conclude it’s a reaction to your disheveled appearance. After all, you didn’t even brush your teeth or hair yet, and judging by the amount of food on the table in front of him, he sure as hell didn’t forget he wasn’t staying alone. 

 “Rise and shine,” he announces, the beaming smile there and present, even at seven in the damn morning. Is there a situation when that man can’t bring himself to smile? Jesus! 

 “Something like that,” you grunt in response. “You ordered breakfast?” you ask, too late to realize that you likely look like a fool - of course he ordered breakfast, it’s in front of you! 

 “I took the liberty to do so, yes,” he folds the paper and puts it away. “Something told me that you wouldn’t want to socialize with the bunch of them first thing in the morning. I wasn’t sure what you eat so I got a little bit of everything - I’ve already finished eating so it’s all yours.”

 “Thank you,” you say, it being the only amount of gratitude you can show before you even have your coffee. Sitting down, it’s what you reach for first - piping hot, ready to be poured in a cup you consider way too tiny - you’ll need at least two of those before getting dressed. As you wait for it to cool down, you help yourself to some of the food, ignoring Hoseok’s eyes on you. The feeling of being watched hasn't stopped since the moment he put down the papers. You’re not sure what it is that he finds interesting about you having breakfast, but you don’t care enough to actually ask. 

 For a little while, he lets you eat in silence and ignore him, even though he was obviously either observing your every move for the fun of it or trying to start a conversation. It’s not until you’re halfway through your first cup of coffee that he starts speaking, and for that, you’re thankful.  

 “Did you know that our photo ended up in the entertainment section of the papers?” he breaks the silence between you. 

 “They’re nothing if they’re not quick,” you mumble in-between bites, not quite sure what to say, as it’s difficult to see what he thinks about it. He is neither angry nor elated, he’s not even laughing - he just said it very matter-of-factly. Looks like he doesn’t smile non-stop, after all. “I wish I could say that I am surprised, but I’m not, not really. I wished it could’ve been avoided but it is what it is. If needed, you can charge me extra for that little hiccup.”

 His silence surprises you, causing you to look up and see what’s the holdup. Arms crossed against his chest, he looks at you in a way that seems more like scanning, as if he is waiting for something to jump out of you or for you to do something. “Did I say something wrong?” you ask, even though you don’t think you did, but solely to keep things calm and civil. 

 “No, no,” he immediately answers, shaking his head. “I’m just surprised it doesn’t bother you.”

 “Well, you’ve said it yourself, it’s better if I’m seen with a business owner than with an escort,” you remind him with a casual shrug, focusing again on the food in front of you. There is no use in giving it a second thought - in due time, you will spin a story about how the two of you went your separate ways. If anyone even bothers asking, that is. God knows they find a new gossip topic entirely way too quickly. 

 “Indeed, I did say that,” he says under his breath, his voice so low you can barely hear it clearly. “Anyway, you seemed to have already known the photos were out?” he asks. 

 “Oh yeah, I saw them on Instagram last night. I just didn’t expect them to end up in print this quickly. I’d say we’re lucky not many people read the papers anymore but my father does,” you chuckle awkwardly, already imagining the conversation you’ll have to have with him. Your Dad doesn’t meddle into your personal life, almost not at all, but he definitely doesn’t want to be informed of your relationship status from the Saturday papers. 

 “Interesting…” he looks at you with a frown. 

 “Huh?” 

 “I found no social media profiles of yours when I first received your email,” he explains. “As I told you when we first met, we always check potential clients and I was quite surprised that a woman of your age and status wasn’t active on social media.”

 “Oh, I am,” you answer, waving him off. “I just don’t make a big deal out of it. And I want it to remain private - if people need to know everything else about me, they don’t need to know the theme of my feed. And I’m already a client now, so there’s no need for checking?”

 “No official need, no, but my curiosity has peaked.”

 Oh. Oh. There he is - you have begun to wonder when the flirty side of him will make its appearance known. Apparently, your early morning appearance had shocked him at first but is no longer off-putting enough for him to not unleash his flirting abilities. His smirk, his smirk that is so… telling, so meaningful… It's a dangerous thing. You don’t like it one bit. Yes, it is very pleasant to look at and it only adds to his already overwhelming sex appeal, but that is exactly the thing you don’t want to focus on. It’s the last thing you want to focus on. 

 “I can tell what you’re doing,” you warn him, glaring at him from the other side of the table. He doesn’t flinch, not one bit, but you aren’t expecting him to. You may be a tough cookie yourself, but he is not a weak man, not by any means. “It’s not working. And it won’t work. I suppose you can have your fun in trying to get a rise out of me, but it’ll only remain an attempt. I’ve told you what I needed when I asked for your help. Nothing above that.” 

 There’s one thing you find more dangerous than his smirk, you realize. It’s his silence. His silence, paired with a rather deadpan look on his face, is definitely more frightening than the smirk. Smirks are easy to read, especially his, but when he goes blank on you, a part of you, however small and easily ignorable that part is, actually shakes with fear. 

 “You know, Y/N, I’ve been in this business very long,” he starts, leaning back in his chair, arms still crossed and eyes still glued on you. “Much too long, honestly, I started very young. And I have been dealing with people of all kinds even before that - men, women, rich, poor, kind, corrupted - you name it, I know it. I can do two things better than most. One, I can act. Very well, as you need to be an awfully good actor to succeed in this business. And the second thing I can do well is read people. I make mistakes, albeit rarely. But I don’t think my opinion of you was in any way a mistake. You may seem closed off, quiet, keeping the cards firmly pressed against your chest, but I can read you like an open book.” 

 “I’m sure you’ve dealt with plenty of people, Hoseok,” you reply as you put your cutlery aside and imitate his position, lean back into the chair, and cross your arms. “But so have I. It may be in a different context, but in order to do good business, you need to know people. And the one thing I am absolutely sure of is that you underestimate me. That’s not something you should do. You may think I want something else, but that is your projecting. Because, as much as it is difficult to swallow this fact, you need me to want you. You need it, which is exactly why you’re sitting in that chair and not your best escort. You’re bored, out of it, a bit purposeless even. And I am, at the moment, your only distraction from that. Yes, you may be good but so am I. You can have your fun, flirt a little here and there, test the line and whatnot, but don’t be mistaken about me changing my mind. Once Sunday evening comes, I will sign my check and we will go our separate ways.”

 You know you are too harsh, you can feel it. If those words were said to you, they’d hurt. You are too harsh and while you do regret it, you know that it was needed. Sometimes you need to hurt people, however brief it is, in order to keep yourself safe. Hoseok is, in a way that you were not prepared for, dangerous. You being harsh and brass is what will keep you safe. 

 “Well then,” Hoseok theatrically announces as he sits up, and you have to make a conscious attempt at not looking at the skin of his chest that was visible now that his robe has moved. “We can always agree to disagree since my former opinion will not be changed and I have a feeling that yours won’t either. We should probably get dressed now. After all, you have a speech to listen to, and I have more socializing to do,” he concludes, walking away from the table and into his room, closing and locking his door behind him. 

 For someone who tends to be the one that walks away, this is quite a change, but you don’t see it as a negative. Things don’t always go your way and while Hoseok may grow a bit colder towards you now, at least there’s a higher chance of him putting his flirty side under control. You prefer being at arm’s length to being at risk. And whether you like to admit it or not, Hoseok is much more of a risk than you had initially thought. 

“I swear, I don’t even know why I even attend these conferences,” Seokjin sighs dramatically, sitting down across the table from you and Hoseok. One tiny sprinkle of light in this dreadful weekend is that Seokjin could also keep you company - he is one of the rare ones that are less fake than the others, at the very least. And somewhat funny. “I pay money to have less successful people than me tell me shit that I already know. Why do we do this, Y/N?” 

 “I ask myself that every damn time and I still end up buying a ticket,” you answer honestly, as it truly is the exact thing that happens whenever they announce the annual, monthly, bi-yearly conferences. Every time, you want to say no and every time, you end up going. 

 “Both of you mentioned yesterday how it’s important to circulate, meet new people,” Hoseok offers. 

 “Which I agree with, but at this point, I know every person in this damn room,” Seokjin unfolds his napkin rather violently, making both yourself and Hoseok chuckle and flinch - he is throwing a proper temper tantrum. Oh, how you wish you could judge him, but in reality, you feel the exact same thing. “I know who they are, how much money they have, which of them is addicted to what, and with Hoseok sitting at my table, I can find out which one of them likes it in the ass - I know entirely too much about every person in this hotel!” 

 “Jesus Seokjin, you’re in a mood,” you laugh at the man’s antics. 

 “And who likes it in the ass is going with me to the grave, don’t get any ideas,” Hoseok waves a threatening finger at Seokjin. “Though I must say, you could likely guess.” 

 “Are they that obvious?” you wonder. 

 “Painfully so,” Hoseok turns his head to you enough to shoot you a wink. Despite the earlier coldness between you, he did not let one bit of it show once you were in public. True to his word, he really is a good actor, and for the second night in a row, the two of you are the hottest topic. You’ve felt eyes on you no matter where you went and were blinded by a camera flash more times than you would have liked - and the most important part, the reason why you actually hired Hoseok to begin with - no one approached you for anything other than simple socialization or a specific business matter. 

 No asking about your relationship status, or, to put it better, spinsterhood, no flirting, no offers; absolutely nothing. Well, other than Taehyung, of course, but that weasel can always find his way and can hardly be counted in with the rest. Your idea, your brilliant yet unconventional idea was working almost perfectly, and the little hiccups that you’ve encountered along the way are perfectly irrelevant when you look at the bigger picture. 

 “Wait, the two of you have never told me,” Seokjin suddenly speaks up, holding up a fork with food in mid-air, as if he just suddenly remembered something and froze. “The two of you have never told me how you’ve met?” 

 Ah, that little thing. Hoseok and you have agreed on a simple story - met thanks to a mutual friend. The problem is, you never expected Seokjin to be the one asking that question. He knows you both, moves in the same circles, and likely knows all of your friends, at least in a six-degrees-of-separation situation. With him, that story won’t fly. 

 “It was a blind date,” you answer before Hoseok can come up with an excuse himself. After all, calling it a blind date is somewhat true if you avoid the email and the phone call. “Namjoon was behind it, so we have him to thank.”

 “That we do,” Hoseok agrees, offering you a beaming smile. If he is surprised in any way, he doesn’t show it - you suppose that the circle of people who could have connected you with him was small to begin with, so hearing Namjoon’s name couldn’t have been much of a surprise. “Honestly, it’s too soon to tell where this will go and if our direction will be the one we’re hoping for but it truly feels promising,” he explains to Seokjin, while at the same time reaching for your hand and taking it in his. You fight the urge to pull away, simply because you aren’t exactly used to having your hand being held, but you manage to keep it in his grip, even applying some pressure yourself. For reasons unknown to you, him holding your hand doesn’t feel all that bad. 

 “You weren’t that optimistic about love the last time we spoke,” Seokjin tells him and you know immediately that this conversation isn’t meant for your ears. While he may think that you and Hoseok are ridiculously close and talk about everything, including his skepticism about love, he is still very much a stranger. 

 Seokjin is making it more personal than the two of you are. Talks about personal conversations, deep feelings, and even life viewpoints are so above what you and Hoseok are, even this casual comment of Seokjin’s makes you feel like you’re intruding on Hoseok’s privacy. If you could come up with an excuse to get up and leave, you would, but that would be too obvious. Instead, you reach for your mineral water, avoiding eye contact with them. 

 “I really wasn’t,” Hoseok agrees through laughter, sounding genuine to your rookie ears. “I don’t wanna be too tacky and talk about how the right person can change things. For all we know, Y/N and I may end up falling out tomorrow. But I think it was the combination of time, luck, and a decent person that made me think that hmmm, maybe, just maybe.”

 “I’m amazed I have such influence,” you interrupt the conversation, in the hopes of stopping it before they go into even more personal territory. “Anyway Seokjin, what’s the matter with you and your love life? You’ve decided to stop your search?” you ask him, hoping that the change of topics worked. Seokjin made a fuss a few months ago about how he is looking for the one and how he won’t stop until he finds her. And yet here he is, single. 

 “Nothing will come to you if you hunt it down,” Seokjin answers with his mouth full, shaking his head as you and Hoseok both laugh at the sight. He swallows and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I was making a fool of myself with that little… expedition. If there is someone for me, I’ll find them eventually. Or, Namjoon will set me up with someone,” he jokes, to which you and Hoseok both fake a smile, and you can only hope that yours is as believable as his smile is. 

 “That sounds like a plan. Now, do we want more wine?” you suggest, once again changing the subject, completely and totally uncomfortable with the direction you were on. 

 “Always,” Hoseok agrees instantly. 

A while ago, you read an article about how people chose to watch movies and TV shows that they have already seen because it comforts them in some way. You remember not having particular thoughts about it back then but tonight, when you were surfing the channels, nothing new was able to catch your interest. Not even the movies that are about to begin, the ones that you have read about or seen posters for. None of it worked and you already pushed it into the back of your mind, deciding that you are too distracted to watch anything, but that’s when you ended up on a channel that was playing Reality Bites. 

 It’s been years since you’ve watched the movie, your long-dead crush on Ethan Hawke suddenly ignited and you found yourself forgetting about the world around you and once again becoming the Y/N you were when you first watched the movie. Life was simpler back then. It was also more fun. No, you were more fun. Fewer responsibilities, not a single worry in the world, just the right balance of studying enough to pass your exams and drinking yourself silly at frat parties. Now, with a business on your shoulder, being responsible for literally hundreds of people and them having a paycheck every month, keeping a roof over their head… All of it has eaten you away. 

 And it’s normal, you believe. People grow up, mature, and become more responsible. You knew even then what your future was, it’s likely that you were simply living it up before your time was up, without even realizing it. It’s the way life works. But the current Y/N still very much enjoys Reality Bites, just like past Y/N did. 

 “Am I interrupting?” Hoseok’s question startles you, even though he kept his voice low - looking up from the sofa, the light of the TV shining on his face from where he peeks his head through the door of his room. “Sorry for scaring you, I thought you heard the door.”

 “No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him, shaking your head as you sit up. “Sorry, was the TV too loud? Do you want me to go to my room or-”

 “No, it’s not that,” he interrupts you. “I just realized that you’re up and about and wondered if you’re unable to sleep, too.”

 “Whenever I have one glass too many, sleep doesn’t come easy,” you explain. “If sleep is escaping you too, you can join me. I mean, the movie’s almost over but we can find something else to watch once it’s done? I’m sure some home renovation show or maybe a cooking channel would put us to sleep in no time?” you suggest, returning a smile once he cracks one at your suggestion. 

 “Sure, why not?”

Three hours and two cheese pizzas later, you find yourself in a predicament you weren’t expecting. You’re not often wrong, which you take great pride in. Your read on people tends to be spot on, but if you just so happen to be wrong, well, in that case, you are more often than not horrifically mistaken. That’s precisely what happened with Hoseok. You were, quite simply, wrong. 

 Right now, under nothing but the light of the TV, he is not the smug Jung Hoseok he was the night you first met. He’s not the charming boyfriend he was pretending to be for the last two days. There is no cocky aura, no expensive suit, no charm that serves only to impress. He’s not a businessman, actor, or an escort - he’s just a man who is watching TV, eating while complaining how bloated the food will make him in the morning, cracking jokes with ease. 

 “Can I ask you something?” you ask, the question coming out of nowhere as you have settled into a comfortable silence. Hoseok nods, but you take your time before continuing. “Would it be too much for me to ask you about the craziest thing you’ve done as a sex worker?” you ask tentatively, not wanting to hurt him or his privacy with your prying. 

 “If I tell you that it was spending a weekend pretending to be a boyfriend of a successful businesswoman, would you believe me?” he asks, grinning at you cheekily. 

 “I wouldn’t, no,” you laugh in response. “It’s alright if you don’t want to share it. I understand that it might be too personal, perhaps even uncomfortable. We can change the topic?” you suggest, not wanting to see your curiosity dampen the mood. 

 “I’ll tell you what - if I answer that question, I get to ask you something.” 

 “I’d normally agree, but what will you ask me?” you ask suspiciously. You’re asking a lot, it makes sense if what he wants to know will be weighed equally, and you’re not sure if you like that. He’s an intelligent man and a brilliant conversationalist. If he wants to know something about you, you know he’ll find it easy to corner you and simply ask. 

 “You’ll see,” he promises. “It won’t be anything that’ll make you kick me out of the suite, rest assured.” 

 “Alright, consider it a deal.” 

 He smiles as he pauses for a moment, you assume, to think about your question. “In my line of work, there is no such thing as kink-shaming. So when you ask me for the weirdest thing that I have ever done, I can’t answer it directly. It may have been unusual to me, but it was highly pleasurable for the other party, and I can’t consider that weird. But the most unusual thing for me, which I still gladly did, was to tie up a client and make them wait for two hours while I did some paperwork. It was one of the few times I was doing my job without actually doing anything. But, the client was happy, and so was I. They were very much into edging, and I was happy to comply.” 

 You try to imagine yourself in such a situation, and while the visual is there, it’s not something you consider enjoyable. But, Hoseok has made a good point - just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean that others agree with you. 

 It makes you feel ashamed. You’ve labeled it weird, and now you know that it wasn’t the proper adjective. One doesn’t need to be a sex worker to know that they shouldn’t shame people for their likes and dislikes, as long as they are legal. That’s a lesson that should’ve been a given, but it took you time to learn. And yes, you do feel bad about it. 

 “I’m aware that I’m not the only one who struggled with understanding certain kinks, but do you think it’s something that can develop?” you ask him, unable to hold your doubts. “I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to judge simply because I don’t understand.” 

 “Of course, it can be changed, just like any trait,” he answers with ease, not even stopping to consider your question. “We all grow and develop in different ways, and when it comes to sex, it depends on so many variables. How we were raised, religious aspects, how many partners we’ve had, even the kind of sex we had. People can be incredibly open-minded and ridiculously narrow. I think it’s healthier to be open-minded. At least when it comes to accepting others and what they might be into.”

 “I’m not sure why I even asked,” you admit, unable to hold back a nervous chuckle. “Anyway, what is it that you wanted to ask me?” 

 “It’s connected to your question and this discussion,” he starts explaining, which is enough for your nerves to start acting up. “Ever since I read your email, I wondered, and I’m even more confused now that I’ve met you. I wonder why you are so… formal, I suppose, when it comes to sex? You don’t need me to tell you how your email sounded; you know it already. I just wonder why you see, or at least seem to see, sex as something shameful?” 

 “I’m not sure how to explain it,” you admit. As ashamed as you feel, the kind look on his face is reassuring - he may not like it, but he understands it. “Parts of it are clear. I was nervous about hiring someone because whether I like it or not, I’m a public figure, and having an escort by my side would reach family, friends, potential clients, and as you know, not everyone is accepting. So, even if I wouldn’t mind it, I’m forced to live in this perpetual fear of what others will think of me and how that will affect my future.” 

 “That’s the sad reality,” he comments after you become quiet. “Those who think that way will likely never change, so it’s useless even to try. The only thing anyone can do is just live their life and enjoy whatever it is that they want to enjoy.” 

 “I regret to inform you that such a view only works if someone enjoys sex,” you laugh. “I’m not trying to say that I never enjoyed it - of course I have, I would never have had it more than once if I didn’t. Unfortunately, it was just always something that I’ve seen as overrated. Something that happens for the sake of happening. Yeah, it’s nice, it’s kind of fun, too, but it’s not nearly as special to me as it seems to be to… well, literally everyone else.” 

 “See, that’s what’s confusing to me,” he starts, turning to his side to face you. “Being asexual is entirely valid and understandable, but that’s not your situation. I get that sex isn’t as high on your priority list, but it also shouldn’t be a task. You shouldn’t have to do it just because it’s expected of you. If you do it, you should enjoy every moment, every second of it. Sex is the most basic form of being - it’s how we become, how we create, what we do to bond with our partners, and if none of that is working, it’s what we do for fun. It’s meant to be exciting and enjoyable, and if it’s not, then you’re not doing something right.” 

 “Is this your way of saying that I’m bad at sex?” you laugh, not bothering to hide that you’re using humor to hide from the fear that what he’s saying may be true. 

 “I find that highly unlikely,” he laughs in response, shaking his head at you. “You just didn’t explore your likes and dislikes enough, and based on the crowds you move in, I’m going to take a wild guess and assume that you haven’t found the right partner yet.” 

 He has a point - the men around you tend to either be uptight or use House of Lust’s services on the regular. Hell, he knows that better than you do. And it’s not like you are a frequent user of dating apps or someone who accepts to go on blind dates. Your dating pool has always been smaller than one of those kiddie blow-up pools. Granted, you can’t say that you made an effort to change it, so if there is anyone to blame for it, it’s yourself. But reason tells you that Hoseok may just have a point. And your doubt is saying that he may be trying to prove a point in a not so inconspicuous way. 

 “Is that a preposition, or am I reading the signs wrong?” you ask him without hesitation. You may be wrong, but something tells you that your judgment is spot on, and if it is, you want to know it. You don’t want to beat around the bush any longer than you already have. 

 Good god, if you’re wrong, this will be so embarrassing! You watch his face, searching for an emotion that you can decode, a signal that you could understand, and when he cracks a smile at you, you know that the point wasn’t entirely missed. 

 “It is if you want it to be.”

 Somehow, being right is the worst-case scenario. Stupidly, you didn’t even stop to consider what your answer would be if your suspicions were right. And here you are now, unsure of what to say. You have plenty of questions and very contradicting opinions. 

 “Why?” you ask, shamelessly answering a question with a question. You hate it when people do it to you, yet here you are, doing it to Hoseok. 

 “Because I like you,” his answer is simple, perhaps even oversimplified, as liking someone is never enough. “I’ll admit it, I didn’t think I could ever want you, not with the way our communication started. You were attractive, and I saw this job as a challenge - I saw you as a challenge. That’s all this was supposed to be. A game or a way to get me out of this tiring cycle I got caught up in lately that I didn’t know how to escape. But then I got here, and I got to know you, and I saw how we are completely identical in some ways, yet the complete opposite in others. And I like you.” 

 He had the word challenge written all over him back then, the first time you met. You knew that he was something else entirely; you knew that dealing with him would be unlike any situation you have ever dealt with before. But somehow, you didn’t see him wanting you. 

 You also didn’t think you’d want him, either. 

 You’re not even entirely sure that you do; the only thing you do know is that whether you want him or not, you can’t have him for a plethora of reasons. 

 “Hoseok,” you start, your voice gentle - gentle enough for him to know that he is going to be let down. That much is evident on his face, as his smile changes from a hopeful one to one of acceptance. His change of expression had caught you off-guard, so much so that you can’t find the words you want to say, the words that you thought of as being realistic but still kind enough. You didn’t want to be a bitch, as you’ve been that to him way too often. 

 “No, you don’t have to say anything, love,” he shakes his head while reassuring you, but at the same time, he lets go of your hand. You stare at your empty one, already missing the warmth that his hand had provided. “As good of a reader as I may be, I sometimes make a mistake, and this is one of those times. I understand we’re not on the same page, and that’s perfectly okay. When you sent that email, I could see your real opinion about my profession and business. It was foolish of me to think it could be something easy to ignore, even if knowing me had changed your mind. Don’t worry, Y/N, I understand.” 

 “No, Hoseok, it’s not that,” you sputter, wanting to wipe away those thoughts out of his head immediately. “I’ve already admitted to my former doubts and prejudice, but if anything, this weekend had turned it all around. I would not be here with you if I were… ashamed to be seen with you or something like that.”

 “No, you wouldn’t, but you hired me for a reason,” he counters, and as much as you hate to admit it, you know that he has a point. “And I get it; I get every single part of it, Y/N. Those people,” he nods his head towards the door. “They’re vultures. They will chew one up and spit them out any chance they get. But it’s one thing to have me by your side to serve a purpose and another to want me there. And I don’t blame you one bit for wanting only one of those things. I get it - I likely would have done the same thing if I were you, too.”

 “Hoseok, you don’t get it,” you shake your head, desperate to make him see sense. “This has nothing to do with your job or my view on sex work. Like I’ve said, it has changed, and if I were to dwell deeper, I would even go as far as to say that I’m ashamed of my former views on it. But I’m not saying no because… I’m not saying no at all. I’m not saying yes, either. I’m just… surprised. I didn’t… Am I blind to signals or something?”

 “No, you’re not,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I was very meticulous. You were a challenge - I would never have accepted your offer if I thought I could fall for you in the process. Here I am, your resident fool. You were just a challenge - remember?”

 How could you ever forget? This is not how events were supposed to unfold, and you can see that he knows it, too. He accepted this job to prove a point, perhaps even to change your mind. Liking you definitely wasn’t something that he was expecting. 

 For a while, you stay silent, going over his words. Guilt over insulting him and his occupation is definitely something you can’t move past easily, but his confession also leaves you confused. You can tell that it is honest, but you can’t ignore the bitterness in his voice. It’s clear that he isn’t happy about being in this position, but he’s putting all his cards on the table regardless. It’s both admirable and frightening. 

 “I’m not quite sure where to begin with this, but I think the one thing that I can tell you is that I don’t blame you for accepting the job for reasons you did,” you begin talking, unable to focus on anything except him. He is not looking at you, and for that, you are glad because you know that getting words out of you would be more challenging if you had his deep, brown eyes staring through you, through every mask that you put on and hind behind, right down to the real you not even you see looking back at you in the mirror. “I could spend the next hour apologizing for the tone of my email, and it wouldn’t be enough.” 

 “There’s nothing to apologize for, Y/N,” he interrupts you, shaking his head as he stares at the ground. “You just said what everyone is thinking.”

 “No, that is not true,” you immediately deny. “I know that for a fact because I no longer think that way either. And those who do likely hide behind their shame. You’ve said it yourself, half the people who act like that, who think like that, are the same ones that pay for the service. And also - fuck them. Fucking fuck them. Fuck what I thought, too! You know who you are and what you stand for, and you should never have anyone question that!” you all but yell, wanting to put out any doubt that you have planted into his head. 

 “You’re right.”

 “And about what you’ve said about liking me,” you continue, pausing almost immediately because once again, you’re not sure what to say. It’s not every day that you hear something like that, and it’s also not every day that you have to… turn it down. The underlying proposition in his words, however tempting, is something that you have to refuse. “I have all the reasons to embrace it, honestly. You are smart, kind, funny. The most genuine man I’ve met in a very long while. But one of the reasons why you’re here with me is because I didn’t want to look, and I wasn’t trying to find. I’m nowhere near ready to share my life with someone in that manner. And I know that isn’t exactly what you’ve asked for, but it’s the way I look at things like those. I don’t invest my time if I don’t see it lasting, and I don’t have to look for that now because I know I’m not there yet. I’m just not ready.” 

 You’re not even sure if you even believe your lies at this point. How do you know you’re not ready? You don’t; you’re just hiding behind that reason, making it an excuse. In this situation, one can’t know without trying. And if you refuse to try, the math is simple. 

 “Even with relationships, you’re a businesswoman through and through,” he chuckles, looking up at you with a sad smile. A lump forming in your throat nearly makes you choke when he reaches for your hand. You embrace it, squeeze it tightly, scared at how it is the only source of comfort in this dark, soulless hotel suite. If you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t even remember the last time you felt comfortable in any shape or form, much less this strongly - it’s borderline overwhelming. “It’s okay, Y/N. I understand you completely. Besides, I told you - I knew I missed my mark as soon as I fired.” 

 “Hoseok…”

 “Don’t you dare try to look at this with pity,” he threatens you jokingly, but behind the joke, you actually feel some sadness. You’re amazed that you can even recognize it, but you can - it’s right there, written clear as day for you to see. “We’ll be great friends, you and I.”

 “Hoseok…” you try again, not knowing what you even want to say. All you know is that you have to try, that the words won’t stay in you. 

 “Woman, it’s okay,” he laughs, still continuing, no matter how forceful it seems, no matter how easily you can see behind it. He squeezes your hand once more before letting you. “It’s okay, don’t let this eat away at you. I’m gonna go and try to sleep a bit before we have to be up tomorrow. You should try the same. By what time is the checkout?” he asks you. 

 “Um… I wasn’t sure how long the conference would last, so the suite is ours for tomorrow night, too,” you answer, your mind making you all foggy and confused because you don’t want to focus on that right now, but you also don’t want to leave him hanging. “We can check out whenever we want to, or by Monday at noon. So you are free to leave as soon as the events of the day are over. But Hoseok, I really-”

 “See you over breakfast tomorrow,” he interrupts you, sitting up from the couch and turning towards his room instantly. “Sleep well, Y/N,” he tells you as he walks towards the door. 

 “Yeah, you too,” you answer, but by the time the words leave you, you’re saying them to a closed door. 

 What have you done? 

 Half an hour later, you still don’t have the answer to that question. The more you think about it, the worse it becomes. You were so sure that you’ve left your overthinking days in the past, that you are no longer the woman that questions every decision multiple times, only to end up regretting it. Yet here she is, going over every word that she has said over the last hour or so. And the worst part of it? You know that you’ve made the wrong choice. 

 What you can’t explain to yourself is why. Why? Why have you done it, and why it’s the wrong choice?

 You know. You know what it is and why you can’t explain it to yourself. You’ve let fear get to you; you’ve let it freeze you and stop you from doing what you really want. And as if that wasn’t enough, you’ve allowed yourself to go into full denial. 

 Fear of what, though? What will people say? You don’t care. What will your family say? You don’t care about that either? Being hurt? That fear is always present, but it’s something that isn’t going to leave you. That fear will always be present, whether it’s Hoseok, someone else, or no one at all. Running away from that fear is not going to do you any good. And if you live your life in fear, you’ll never fully live it. You’ll be sitting in a dark room of your overly expensive suite while the man you want to be with is ready to pack and leave in the morning. 

 The man you want to be with. How? You don’t know. Whichever way he’ll have you. For good, forever, only for one night - whatever you two decide. But you know you want him. And if you don’t do something, he will leave, and so will your chance. 

 You can’t let that happen. You’ll never forgive yourself. Before stopping to find a reason that will change your mind, before you find an excuse that isn’t worth shit, you are up and walking towards his door, silently praying that he isn’t asleep already. You open the door without bothering to knock, startling Hoseok - he is simply sitting on his bed in complete darkness, his eyes widening at your entrance as he leans over to the bedside table to turn the lights on. You can’t even imagine what you must look like to him now - like a madwoman, wide-eyed and determined but still scared that she is doing too much, too soon. 

 “Y/N?” he calls your name in confusion. “Is everything okay?” 

 “No,” you answer, shaking your head frantically. “None of this is okay, honestly. I’m a tool, and you are legitimately a good guy, and I have this sinking feeling that if I let you leave without letting you know I like you too would be a huge, horrible mistake.”

 The words spill out of you without a filter, and usually, you’d chastise yourself for that but right now, you’re too hyper-focused on him not leaving to actually worry about yourself. 

 “Y/N…” Hoseok starts, sighing as he rubs at his eyes. In the dim lights of his room, it’s easy to notice how tired and frustrated he looks, and it feels so wrong to watch him rub his face in frustration - it’s even worse given that you are the cause of it. “I know you like me. I’m sorry if this bruises your ego, but it’s obvious. In my mind, that was never the question. But you liking me means nothing. Any of what I have to offer is of no interest or benefit to you. And you liking me doesn’t change that.”

 “You can’t say those things,” you disagree with him, shaking your head. “You may think that you know what’s going on in my head, but in this case, you’re actually very, very wrong. And yeah, maybe the version of me I was two weeks ago wouldn’t see any interest or benefit in this, but I do now. And as far as I’m concerned now is all that matters.”

 “So what exactly do you want now?” he asks, and although he looks frustrated still, he isn’t snappy. He is genuinely asking you, where do you go from here, what do you do now? 

 “I… I haven’t really gone past the part where I march in here to try and stop you from leaving,” you answer him honestly, grimacing when you notice the look of disbelief on his face. He needs more; you need to say more. “That sounds off - I don’t want you to leave; I want you to stay here with me tonight. And the next night, too. I want to…” you pause, trying to figure out what exactly you want and how to say it. “I want to get to know you more. Find out more about yourself. To spend time together, see where things go, and try if you want to try. Try and see if there could be something here. I can’t put it into words, and I will take all the blame for it, but honestly, the most I can do is tell you that I want more with you than I have ever wanted with any man, ever.” 

 It’s vague, you know it is, but right now, vague is all you can give him. You have no idea if Hoseok just wants to fuck you and be done with this or if he is legitimately interested in pursuing some kind of a relationship with you. At this point, you’d gladly agree to both, but you can’t say that. Not if you don’t want to overwhelm him, not unless you know that both of you are on the same page. 

 “What you’re trying to say here is that you want to be with me?” he asks. 

 “Yes, in a way, I am,” you answer honestly. “I can’t read your mind any more than you can read mine. I don’t know if you just… want a friend or a quick fuck or if maybe, at night, you too feel lonely,” you continue speaking and as much as you are ashamed of it, you could feel tears filling up your eyes. “It’s all good until you get back home, you know? During the day, you’re too busy to pause and think, much less think about it an unhealthy amount of time. But when you get home, the lights are dark, and there’s no one to greet you; all this empty space hits you right in the chest. If you wanna fill that space for me, I… I’d want you there. And if you want less, I’m fine with less. The only thing I’m not okay with is us moving on as nothing had ever even happened. That’s the only scenario that I am not fine with.” 

 His silence is killing you, but you can’t blame him for it. You did the one thing that you’ve tried to avoid doing - you’ve overwhelmed him. In your defense, it was impossible to do it differently, not if you wanted to be honest, and you did. So you take the silence, mentally preparing yourself for direction as you look at him, trying to memorize the way he looks now. Just Hoseok, not a wealthy businessman, not a former escort, not even a current escort - just a man in the sweatshirt he sleeps in. He’s just a man and not some superhuman, intimidating figure that you have painted him out to be from the day he joined you at the table of your favorite restaurant. 

 “Okay,” he finally speaks up, after what feels like an eternity and then some. “Okay, I hear you. We’re on the same page. I’d very much like to get to know you better and see if we can make it work. It’s entirely way too soon to tell, but I want to explore it. Take you out for dinner and spend time with you. None of this bullshit conference and pretending.”

 “I know,” he laughs at your confusion and the way your words are stumbling out of your mouth. You have no doubt that he finds this side of you very amusing, and you can’t blame him; your act of a tough, cold business bitch is a perfect one indeed. He knows it all; you have no doubt he’s seen it all before, but you’d like to think that something about this particular situation is as different for him as it is to you. “Yeah, I do want to see where we can go. Should we have dinner on Tuesday? I think that’s a good start?” 

 You are… confused. On the one hand, you are ecstatic - he has agreed and is asking you out on a date, an official date. But at the same time, you find this somewhat anticlimactic and as if it doesn’t do justice to the connection you two have. You wanted to barge in here like a madwoman and kiss him until you’re both desperate to catch your breaths. And you didn’t because you had many things to say before you got to that. Not getting to that at all was not something you saw happening, and you are somewhat disappointed. 

 “Yeah, that sounds good,” you answer. “But like… Do you not want to stay? Is this where it pauses until Tuesday?” you sheepishly ask, too whiplashed to keep your doubts to yourself. His laughter doesn’t help - it’s never, ever, a good thing when someone laughs in a situation like this. Your mind immediately goes to the most negative alternative, even if it isn’t real. 

 “Y/N, I may not be able to read your mind, but I have learned a thing or two about you during this weekend,” he starts, and as if a switch in his mind had flipped, he is no longer the casual Hoseok you tried to commit to memory - he is a smirking, cocky man that is slowly approaching you with a purpose, likely knowing that every step he takes in your direction is increasing the speed of your heart. “I will take you out Tuesday night. And I am also staying here tonight and tomorrow night, too,” he says, almost as a threat, continuing to approach you, and due to you being frozen in place, there’s entirely way too little space between you. Or is it too much? Yeah, it’s too much - the way he towers over you, a smirk on his face and desire behind his eyes, you know it’s too much space between you. “I will spend the night in your bed, where I will make sure to have you laughing, blushing, moaning, and coming all night long. And right now, I’m going to kiss you. If you allow me, of course.”

 For a moment, you are frozen, too shocked by his words and promise. If he’s half as good in bed as he is at describing it, there’s a solid chance you won’t want to leave this suite on Monday, or ever, really. But once you process his last sentence, his promises to ruin you in the best way possible but still emphasizing consent, as much as he knows you are willing to agree to anything at this point… Yeah, you’re a goner. 

 But you’re a goner with nothing to lose and a goner that just happens to be incredibly horny, thanks to him. That’s precisely why, once you snap out of it, you are the one who kisses him, you are the one to grab hold of him and pull him closer, and you are the one who leads the kiss, not even bothering to hide the desperation that pours out of you. 

 There is nothing gentle about the way you kiss him - you kiss, bite, moan loudly, panting as you do, not bothering to hide anything about the way he affects you. Even the way you hold him - you are not gently caressing his back. Oh no, you hold him so hard that you are pretty sure you will leave marks. The ever gentle, romantic you had become a wild animal, and if Hoseok minds it, he does nothing to show it. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. He matches your energy, not bothering with gently caressing your face and peppering you with kisses. Nope, his hands are grabbing at your ass shamelessly, and his tongue soon takes over the lead. He takes over completely - as desperate as you were, he is quick to assert his speed, his dominance. And you don’t mind it - not one bit. 

 Time passes in a way where you can’t tell if it’s been seconds or full hours. The two of you only part for breath, slowly but surely making your way towards his bed. You’re not surprised in the slightest when he gently pushes you onto it - what you are surprised with is how pissed you are at the simple fact that your lips are no longer attached to his. You want him glued to you, above you, and under you, in any which way he prefers. 

 “Now,” he starts speaking, his voice sounding even more like a threat. “Now, we get to the part where I want you to tell me what you want.” 

“What do you mean?” you ask, frowning as you purposefully part your legs, an action he notices immediately. “I want you; I thought that was clear.” 

 “Oh, it is,” he chuckles, his words sounding like a promise. “But not even an hour ago, we were talking about sex, and you went all shy on me. You told me how you’re not sure what even is that you like. So now, I want you to tell me what you want me to do. Whatever it is, we both know I can make it feel good. But I need your instructions, sweetheart.” 

 “I want you to fuck me.” Your words sound more like a question than a statement - he laughs, likely noticing the same. Slowly, he moves so that he towers over you, leaning onto the bed with his arm placed on both sides of your head, only an inch or two separating your lips from his. 

 “I’m going to need you to be a bit more specific than that.” 

 His little game will be the end of you, but you understand why he’s playing it. He is right, your views on sex are warped, and if there is a time to try to repair them, it’s now. If you’ve ever had a partner who knows what they are doing, it’s Hoseok. You have to play it, not only for the sake of your personal growth but also for the promise of enjoyment that he gives. 

 “I want you to fuck me however you want,” you finally speak up, finding the courage to give up all control and hand it to him. “I don’t care how, as long as it’s the way you want it. If it’s not something I’m comfortable with, I’ll be sure to voice it. But I want you to take me how you want me. I want you to show me how good sex can be when you don’t let irrelevant shit hold you back. Don’t hold back with me; take the lead and show me pleasure.” 

 You can’t tell if he likes your answer or not, as he has his poker face firmly in place. You want him to like it, you do, but you can’t do better than this. It’s impossible to tell someone what you want when you’re not even sure about it yourself. You need him to show you first, and he needs to accept that. 

 “I can work with that,” he finally decides, and you don’t even bother trying to hide your relief - it makes him laugh, the way you exhale, and how your shoulders slump. “But before we get to that, I want you to show me.” 

 “Show you what?” you timidly ask, despite already having a strong suspicion of what his answer is. 

 “You know exactly what I’m asking for, so stop pretending like you don’t,” his words are strict, but the smile he gives you is confirmation enough - he is teasing you, having fun, perhaps even trying to show you that you can have fun, too. “I want you to take off your clothes, spread your legs, and pleasure yourself like you usually do.” 

 In an ideal world, you would have a snarky reply ready for him. Well, perhaps not snarky, but definitely teasing. You know how to, you do - it’s just that you can’t. The authority in his voice is enough to make you close your mouth, hold back on the reply, and do exactly what he said. With your eyes glued to his, you take off your sweatpants, followed by your underwear. Despite your naked bottom half, he maintains eye contact, and he does so right until the moment you spread your legs further, shamelessly putting your hand between them. 

 You go easy on yourself - you always do, preferring it slow and gentle, especially now when you have someone watching. With two fingers circling your clit, you pay close attention to his reaction: his eyes widen, if only just a little. His breath hitches, a lump forms in his throat, and he swallows hard as he observes the circling motions you make. You focus more on him than you do on your pleasure, finding that the two aren’t mutually exclusive. Watching him like this, seeing his reactions and the want behind his eyes - it feels almost as good as, if not better, than the fingers on your cunt. 

 Taking your time, you move your hand so that your clit lies under your thumb - you press on it, resuming with the circular motions. At the same time, you slide your index and middle finger against your opening, not surprised in the slightest when you immediately feel wetness coat your skin. Your fingers slide in with ease, but you don’t move them immediately - your body may be ready for it, but your mind isn’t, not yet. Focusing on the movements of your thumb, you keep your two fingers still inside you until you feel like your cunt is no longer fighting the pressure. Slowly, you slide the fingers in and out of your body, watching how Hoseok reacts to it. You barely even start the movements when you realize that you can see his erection growing, his cock hardening under the cotton of his sweatpants. 

 “Am I going to be fucking myself with my fingers the entire night, or are you planning on getting involved at some point?” you find the courage to ask, knowing that no matter how good you feel now, you’d feel even better if it were his fingers inside you instead. 

 “Do you even realize how hot you look right now?” he asks, and you laugh in response. 

 “I’m sure it’s hot to you, but I don’t have a particular interest in seeing this,” you tell him honestly. It’s understandable - while you’d love to see him jerking off, seeing you fingering yourself would be like watching yourself as you brush your teeth - something you know, something you’re not surprised with, and definitely not something that would ignite arousal. However, watching himself as he rubs one out sounds like a sight you’d pay to see. 

 “Baby, you’re missing out,” he chuckles, but you focus more on his hand as it starts moving towards his cock, subtly rubbing at it through his clothing. Now that’s a show. “Sex doesn’t have to be about the visuals at all, but sometimes, it’s the most exciting thing about it. You should try watching - fucking in a position where you can see it all, experimenting with mutual masturbation - kind of like what we’re doing right now.” 

 “And I’d gladly do it, but right now, I’d much rather have your cock inside me.” 

 Arousal makes your verbal filter disappear, slowly but surely. You no longer struggle with getting the words out and telling him exactly what you want him to know, and right now, that’s just how much you want him inside you, fucking you into oblivion. 

 “Not before I enjoy this, first,” his words are both a promise and a threat. “Stop fingering yourself,” he orders you, and you oblige, removing your hand from between your legs. Feeling the arousal sticking to your fingers, you don’t hesitate before you pop them in your mouth, surprised but incredibly pleased to see his reaction to it. “Fuck!” he snaps, as he obviously wasn’t expecting you to do that. Who would have thought - there was something you can do that can surprise him, after all. 

 “I love how you liked that,” you admit as you move your body further up the bed, hoping he’ll take it as a signal to finally lay on top of you and start fucking you. “Could be your fingers, you know,” you tease, knowing how both of you would prefer it that way. 

 “Oh, they will be,” he chuckles. “But first, I need to see this,” he tells you, and that’s all the warning you get before he presses your legs to close at the knees, propping them up with both his hands. Confused, you hug them close to your chest, not wanting to try and tip backward on the bed. It turns out; it’s precisely what he had wanted. He curses at the sight, and you feel his hand graze your cunt in a way that makes you squirm - it’s almost ticklish, but you don’t care. “Now this - this is a beautiful pussy. And this position is the best because when I fuck you, not only will you squeeze me tighter, but I’ll also be able to see it all. Do you know how hot it is to see a wet, ready cunt being filled?” 

 “I’ll take your word on it,” you gulp, completely giving in to arousal. “I’m clean and on the pill; please just fuck me. I need you. I want you, badly.” 

 You never were one for begging, but you find out something new about yourself every day. 

 “I will,” Hoseok reassures you. “But I want you to see the beauty of this, too. And I think I know what we’ll do - we’re going to fuck in front of a mirror,” he announces. 

 “Fuck!” this time, it’s you who’s cursing - it’s not something that you’ve ever done. Hell, it’s not even something you even considered an option before. But now, when you hear Hoseok say it like that, when he promises you a good time and when you know he’ll deliver on the said promise - it’s easy to be turned on by the very thought of it. “I want that. I really do.” 

 He says nothing, choosing to put one finger inside you instead. You moan at the feeling, moan for more, but he removes it as quickly as he put it in. When he puts his hand in front of your face, you don’t need to be told what to do - you just take his finger in your mouth, licking and sucking at it, just as you would if it was his cock. It’s easy to tell he likes it, but he also stops it quickly. “Take your clothes off and come into the closet.”

 He walks into the closet before you can say anything. Not that you would - the room he is staying in is identical to yours, and you know how big the closet mirror is. You drop your clothes as fast as you possibly can, all but running into the gigantic walk-in closet. There, you see that Hoseok is completely naked - your eyes glued to his hard cock. He’s bigger than you thought he’d be, but then again, is there anything about him that can surprise you? 

 You already knew that he is physically perfect, and seeing him naked only reinforces that opinion. Like a living, moving sculpture, he walks around casually, turning on the bright lights that would usually make you shy away. In fact, this entire setup would make you shy away on any given day. You’re standing stupidly, waiting for him to make a move, completely naked and entirely way too horny for your own good. If it were anyone else, anyone but Hoseok, you wouldn’t be here, going along with all of this. But it is him, and you don’t want to question it - you know he will live up to your expectations. 

 “I’m going to lay down on the ground, and you will sit on my cock,” he instructs you matter-of-factly, something that would typically pull you away from the arousal but now, it pushes you even deeper in it. “You will ride me until you cum, and then you will keep on riding me until you cum again. We will be in front of the mirror. And I don’t want you looking away from it for one second. If you don’t like this, say the word, and we’re stopping it. But if you’re game, you’ll let me navigate you through it. Okay?” 

 He gives you a clear way out, a chance to change the setup if you need to. You debate it, albeit briefly. For a moment, you wonder if you really want to do this, if this is something you want to try or not. And as soon as the moment is gone, you find yourself nodding your head. 

 “If I change my mind, I’ll let you know,” you reassure him. The moment he kneels to the ground in front of you, you know there’s no way in hell you’ll end up changing your mind. He shuffles around, maintaining eye contact with you as he lays down on the soft carpet, his legs right in front of the mirror. He doesn’t have to instruct your next move - you move, standing with him between your legs, and with one final nod, you turn your back to him and face yourself in the mirror. It’s not a sight you’re overly familiar with, that’s for sure. When naked, mirrors usually aren’t your favorite sight - you don’t mind this one now. Staring at your reflection, you know why he wanted you here; he wanted you to see yourself like this, naked and vulnerable, but in control and confident at the same time. Because that’s what you are, as you crouch down, taking his hardened cock in your hand - you’re in control. 

 A control that isn’t easy to keep a hold of once you take him in fully, grabbing hold of his knee for support; you should have told him earlier that it’s been a while since you’ve had sex because you straight up forgot what it feels like to have a cock inside you. Going on muscle memory alone, you let yourself take a few deep breaths before you start moving; his hands find their way to your waist as he helps you move. And whether or not he knows this or not, that gentle grip gives you the reassurance that you need to finally look up. 

 You can barely recognize yourself - the woman in the mirror, the woman whose face contorts in pleasure as she rides Hoseok… she doesn’t look like you. Or, perhaps even worse, she looks more like the younger version of you - the one with fewer worries, the one without a mask to wear constantly. But once you realize that it is you and that you are really doing this, you can’t look away, not even as you start rolling your hips faster. 

 “Keep looking,” Hoseok encourages you - he must know that you can’t get yourself to look away, not even if you wanted to. “Look at yourself. Look at how beautiful you are. Observe your movements against my body. Accept that you know what you are doing and find every second of this enjoyable. Remember that I use sex as a weapon for a living - and you have me under your control. Think about that - think about how that makes you feel.” 

 “It’s not actual control,” you manage to speak up, shaking your head frantically as you continue with your movements, letting his hands direct your hips at the speed he prefers. It only proves your point - this is not actual control. “You’re the one in control, Hoseok. You’re just pretending to let me have it so that I can get off.”

 “You’re right,” he admits through ragged breath. “Do you not like that?” 

 “No, I love it.”

 You do. You are not saying it to satisfy Hoseok or make yourself believe in it - it’s the truth. You never wanted power in sex; it was never something you were too hung up on, but now that you have it, even if it’s make-belief, it feels fucking amazing. 

 “Good - keep riding me, use a hand on your clit and keep your eyes glued to the mirror.” 

 You take his order without question, doing exactly as he said. At this point, he could say just about anything, and you would have gone with it, especially if it ends in your pleasure. And this will - you can feel it. A consequence of being sexually deprived is catching up with you, making you lose any last semblance of your sanity as you watch yourself bouncing on his cock, your eyes focusing on the way your pussy takes him in, leaving his cock all sticky with your arousal whenever his hands help you lift your hips, over and over again. 

 When the orgasm hits you, it hits you hard. Your entire body shakes as you desperately try to keep yourself balanced and not fall face-first into the ground. Unable to keep your eyes open any longer, you lose touch with the woman that looked back at you in the mirror - but you don’t let her slip away from your mind. You are her, you are here, and you have never felt as good as you feel now. No wonder Hoseok is the best at what he does - it took him one glance at you to know exactly what it is that you wanted and needed, and just a handful of days to make you realize it yourself. He is magic personified, and you were a fool to deny it. 

 “Baby, are you okay?” he asks after you stay silent for god knows how long - it could be seconds, minutes, or hours, for all you know. 

 “Mhm,” you mumble in confirmation, words being too big of a challenge. He must know it, as his hands are now rubbing soothing circles into your skin instead of helping your body move. You can’t open your eyes for the life of you, too tired to move and wanting to just… be. If you could stay here forever, just like this, even if you’re still sitting on his cock, you’d die a happy woman. You’d do just about anything to stay in this place for a good while. 

 “Can you move?” 

“I can, but I’m not sure if I want to,” you admit, a tired laugh escaping your chest of its own free will. “I know this goes against your plans for the evening - you made a point of this happening multiple times in a row, but I don’t think I can handle it.” 

 “It’s okay,” he reassures you. “This won’t be the last time you sit on my cock anyway; it doesn’t matter if you can’t pull more than one orgasm out of you tonight. You’ll have plenty of them in the hours, days, perhaps even weeks to come.” 

 “Is that a promise?” you laugh, even though those words cause goosebumps all over your body. God, you hope it’s a promise. 

 “It is,” he laughs, and the sound of his laughter makes you realize how far he is from you. He had made this all about you, in how you see yourself, in the power you hold or willingly give away to him. Now that you’ve seen it firsthand, you want him closer. Pressed up against you, impossible to pull away, never letting you go. As if he can feel it, he sits up, and you flinch at the way he moves in you; Hoseok puts his arms around your body and starts kissing your back and shoulders, and for the first time since you started having sex, you can see him in the mirrors’ reflection. You’re too dazed to focus on his features, on whether he is sweaty or not, or whether he is red in the face. Your mind simply isn’t cooperating with you, and there is not much you can do about it. “Do you think you can ride one out for me? I’m dying to fill you up if you’d let me?” he suggests, raising an eyebrow as he stares at your reflection. 

 “Yes, please,” you find yourself begging for him again. “Please do all the work, though. I can’t move,” you admit through laughter. He gives you a quick smile before he starts moving his hips, and just like that, it all begins again. This time, it’s him moving, and this time, it’s his fingers on your cunt. You didn’t think you could have the strength for one more, not after the earth-shattering orgasm he gave you before, but surprise, surprise - you do. He knows it; he knows it better than you do. Your own body betrayed you and swore allegiance to him, and before you know it, another orgasm ripples through you, even more violent than the one before, as he holds onto your body firmly, like letting you go would make you lose your mind. 

 You didn’t even notice that he was coming, not until you saw cum dripping out of you and around his cock. It’s a fascinating sight, and no matter how much your body wanted to tip over and have you faint from exhaustion, you couldn’t stop staring. He noticed, of course. Smiling, he moved his fingers around, catching some of the running cum, circling it against your clit, rubbing it into your skin. The stimulation isn’t enough to push you into overdrive, but it does feel pleasurable. Nice, almost. Incredibly filthy, without a doubt, but kind of nice. 

 “See this? This is beautiful,” he nods towards your reflection, using his cum almost as paint, dragging his fingers against your lower stomach and leaving a sticky trace behind. You laugh, remembering how way back when, you would have been grossed out with this, and now, you can’t think of anything hotter. Except, maybe… 

 “Can I have a taste?” 

 A curse muttered into your ear tells you he likes it, and with no objection, he moves his fingers and places them in front of your face, waiting. You lick at them, taking them into your mouth and letting remnants of his cum stain your face, too. It turns out that there always has been this filthier, sexual side of you. No one just knew how to let her out. 

 “Dinner on Tuesday?” Hoseok asks. 

 You burst into laughter and fall back into him, following him down as he lays down on the floor. You laugh at it all, at the absurdity of how you met, at how good the sex was, and at how you owe Namjoon a solid for bringing Hoseok into your life. 

[allywritesforfun]

hey i really enjoyed your nightly routine post with wilbur? i was wondering if you could do something similar but in the morning instead?

awe my love! I'm glad that you enjoyed the nightly the routine... here is the morning routine!

{Morning Routine} Wilbur Soot x Reader

summary: you and wilbur made a nightly routine video that blew up more than you have thought, so now its time to do a morning routine!

pronouns: not mentioned

word count: 2280

trigger warnings: swearing, mention of a knife for going chop chop, this was too cute for even me to handle and it came from my hands

a/n: my god is this long! I really got carried away. I could've made this into two parts but whatevs

a/n pt 2: takes place after the “Nightly Routines” but not directly connected 

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

You deeply groaned as you fluttered your eyes open. This was not a great time to wake up. You really wanted another hour of sleep, but you knew you had work to get done today.

You looked behind you. You smiled at the sight of Wilbur in his sweet slumber, his arm lazily draped over your waist. Wilbur very much loved to be in bed with you. If he could, he would spend all day there, just you in his arms and some soft lofi in the background. 

That was something very rare to get. Being a streamer and musician, Wilbur was busy almost all the time and rarely took a day off. Mornings and nights were dedicated to you. However, there were times that you would stream with him, or stop by the office to give him food, but nothing was compared to waking up with him.

“Oh shit,” You whispered, “We’re supposed to do morning vlog today.”

You looked around for Wilbur’s camera, which was no where to be found. You settled on stretching over to nightstand and unplugging your phone. You looked back at Wilbur to make sure he was still sleeping. You could tell he was by the gentle raise and fall of his chest and subtle “Ah-woo”. You just knew that was the perfect way to start the vlog. You recored him for about ten seconds of him doing his ‘not really a snore but definitely something’ and giggled almost the whole way through.

You would think that after living with him for two months and the multiple sleepovers that you’ve had with him, that you would be used to it by now. But even today you still giggled just like you did when you first woke up with him. 

You snuck yourself out of bed and made your way to the kitchen. Once arrived you did the intro, “Good morning chat! It is currently about 6:30 in the morning, and as you realize, I am the only one awake. As you saw, Wilbur is still sound asleep and that how it is every morning. So we’re going to vlog our morning routine today, which I promise is way more interesting than the nightly routine vlog. So, Wilbur is literally the best person ever and deserves the world. And his world, besides me of course, is his morning coffee. So I’m going to use our Keurig to get his coffee started.” 

You stopped the recording and decided to get some of your creativity out. You weren’t musical like Wilbur and can't draw for shit, so videography was your way of being creative. You set your phone the in the corner and opened up the blind to let a little bit of light through. It still looked basic so you moved your plant to the background, which added the perfect look. You started brewing and hit record. 

While that was going, you measured out the creamer and syrup and grabbed your sippy cup for your chocolate milk. No judgement here. We all know chocolate milk tastes better in sippy cups. 

The brew came to a slow stop and you grabbed the camera, “Wasn't that a satisfactory angle chat? Now, I am more of an iced coffee person, so in the morning I have water or chocolate milk, and today is definitely a chocolate milk day.” You raised your cup to the camera and fake ‘clinked’ it, cutting the recording when it was closest to the camera. You finished up making Wilbur’s coffee and set it on the living room table. 

You looked at the time, 6:50 am, now was a good time to get Wilbur up. You always let his coffee sit out for a little bit, that way he could drink it the second that he woke up. You threw some napkins under your drinks and moved another plant over there. You wanted your place to look aesthetically pleasing, even if it was a little bit staged. You did a transition with your cup, this time now on the table.

“Okay chat, we all now mr. simpbur is a snuggler so we don't have breakfast in the kitchen, instead we share on the couch, that way we can get all of our snuggles in before he has to leave for the office. I have everything set up, normally I would prepare breakfast too, but I feel like cooking with Wilbur this morning. We’ll do this about once a week for some bonding time, so let's go get him up,” You decided to keep recording, just in case Wilbur woke up from your loss of presence. 

You creaked the door open, Wilbur was still asleep. He adjusted his body for that he was hugging a pillow, who you assumed was your replacement. You laid down next to him and just took a moment to admire him. It was moments like this that you forgot that you were internet personalities. This was you. This was Wilbur. Both of you living your life without needing to exaggerate yourself. This was Wilbur at his purest form. He was all relaxed, not even aware that he was being recorded.

You scooted closer to him and intertwined your legs with him. You brushed his bangs with the back of your hands and gently placed your lips on your forehead. He stirred a little bit, but not enough to wake him up. You took the pillow from him and wrapped your body around his, “Wilbur, my love, it's about seven, you need to get up.”

You could tell he woke up by him pulling you closer and burying his head only you neck. You gently massaged his head and twirled his curls between your fingers, “Come on Will, I got your coffee made already. We need to start breakfast.”

He shook his head and kissed your shoulder, “Mine.”

You laughed, “Yes Will, and ‘yours’ is hungry, let’s get up and eat.”

He slowly nodded and pulled you closer, “Mmmm... I love you.”

“I love you too, simpbur.”

He snapped his head up at the nickname and saw the camera, “Fuck-that’s today?”

You giggled and detached yourself from, “Say good morning to chat.”

He shook his head and buried it in his pillow out of embarrassment. You stop recording and put your phone on the stand. Just seeing Wilbur all flustered was enough to make you go back to bed. You laid back down with him and pulled him on top of you.

“We’re gonna have to re-record that part,” Wilbur mentioned.

You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, which he happily leaned into, “No bubs, we gotta keep it in. It was a very cute moment.”

He shook his head aggressively, “No! That was embarrassing!”

“Too bad, it’s on my phone so I get to chose what goes in.”

He huffed and grabbed your hand, accepting defeat, “You said you made my coffee?”

You two got up and sat down on the couch. Wilbur took you into his arms the second he took his first sip, his personal way of saying ‘thank you, you’re the best person to ever exist’. 

“What are you feeling for breakfast?” You asked.

“You,” Wilbur joked, kissing your temple. 

You gently pushed him, “No actually, I really want yogurt, so pick something that goes well with that.”

“Can we just make a fruit plate?”

You excitedly nodded, if it wasn't for Wilbur, you would not be eating healthy. He really made sure that you were going to live as long as he did. Neither of you could live without the other. If something crazy didn't happen to you, you were going to die from a broken heart.

Wilbur grabbed your phone and started recording, “So um, good morning chat, I’ve had some coffee and more awake now. What you just saw- no you fucking didn't. We’re on the sofa right now and we decided on a fruit plate with yogurt this morning, trying to be a little healthier considering we had ice cream at one am last night. So we’re gonna make that off camera, because if you guys get us to six million subs, we’ll do a cooking stream!”

“Oh we are now?” You questioned. “I was never told about this.”

Wilbur laughed and kissed your temple, “Well you know now, that's good enough innit?”

You shook your head and placed your hand over the camera, Wilbur stopped the recording. You go the fruit out while Wilbur prepared the sink for rinsing and knives for chopping. 

You made the plate look all nice and took it back to the couch. Wilbur placed his arm back over you and grabbed the remote with is free hand while you centered your phone.

“Okay chat, we’re gonna eat and watch tv for a bit, then you're gonna get ready with us. Wilbur has a test shoot at the office today, so we gotta make him look all pretty and obviously personal hygiene is a must... so yeah, brb.”

You two set up another game show to watch, it sorta became your go to show. Especially because there was no storyline and you could talk when you wanted. This was a pretty chill morning, you two enjoyed each other's presence. 

When you finished up, Wilbur took the dishes and you went to the bathroom and cleaned up a little bit. You heard Wilbur go into his closet, so you started recording, “Okay chat, last thing we do before he leaves is actually get ready. Wilbur is getting changed right now so I’m gonna brush my hair out. I can get a little aggressive with the snarls and Wilbur always thinks I'm ripping my hair out so I always do it when he's not around to make sure he doesn't get worried.”

You set the phone in the corner and set it up to record a time lapse. You heard off in distance some light pop type of music, so you knew that Wilbur got his speaker out.

“Are you playing copyrighted music?” You called.

“It’s released Lovejoy!”

You smiled, you always got giddy seeing how happy Wilbur was able to make himself with his own music. You set your brush down and started to wet your toothbrush, Wilbur slid into frame, already jamming out to his own music.

You covered your mouth with your hand stifled your laughter. Wilbur laughed with you and tugged on your waist, trying to get you to dance with him. You aggressively shook your head no, you hated dancing. You would think by now that you would be used to Wilbur and his random dance breaks, but you never came around. 

You looked down in shame as Wilbur attempted to get you to spin around. Once you made it clear that you were not in the mood to dance, Wilbur turned down the music and waddle over to the counter.

You grabbed the camera, “If someone wants a very tall British man, you can come get him. Warning: not fun dance outbreaks.”

“Oh come on now, y/n!” Wilbur wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head on yours, “Stop pretending like you don't like to dance.” “You know I hate dancing,” You reminded him.

“Well chat, apparently I’m not allowed to have any fun in the morning? But anyway, that was a joke, but- we do really have to get ready. Should we do this Disney Channel style?”

You laughed and shook your head, “No, I think I just want to make sure you don't miss your meeting.”

“That’s at nine! We have time! Please let me have fun with you! It’s going to be such a stressful day!” He pouted with the cutest puppy dogs eyes.

There was no way that you could say no to him, “Alright, what fun we having?”

Wilbur said nothing and prepared his toothbrush like yours, “Last one to finish brushing their teeth has to do the dishes tonight.”

You hated dishes. You were winning this one. You didn't even wait for a countdown. You instantly grabbed your toothbrush and turned on the water with lightening speed. 

“What?!” Wilbur yelled. “That’s not fair!”

You did your best to bump him away, but it literally did nothing. Both of you were laughing very hard but Wilbur quickly caught up. You both fought with your hands, trying to cup a decent amount water. You both managed to get the water into your mouth and you turned to face Wilbur, it came down to who could rinse the fastest. You two just stared at each other, wishing the water around. You were dead serious. You were not doing the dishes tonight. Wilbur kept flaunting his hands around trying get himself to go faster, which ended up in him completely breaking out in laughter and spitting all over your face. It took you by surprise and all that you could you do was laugh to yourself, you eventually spit the water out in the sink, raising your hands in victory. 

“I am so sorry, love!” Wilbur took your hand and guided you into his arms, gently running his hand up and down your back, “I didn't think that would be that hilarious.” “It’s okay,” You laughed and looked back in the mirror. You were completely drenched shoulder up, “It was fun. Better to happen to me than you, you look really nice today for the shoot.” “Thank you,” Wilbur blushed and turned you around, “I think that is enough recording for today. All that we have left to do is leave so... thank you for watching! Subscribe now and remember, cooking stream at six mil! Bye guys!”

[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins���

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

[a-purple-lizard]

Mortal Kombat S/O Kombat intro’s (Part 1)

I will be making this into a series of post, I plan on having each mortal kombat character so Please request any Mortal Kombat character that I missed! All reader intros are gender neutral!

Ermac

[S/O] Did you know talk in your sleep?

[Ermac] No, we hope we said nothing that would cause you to think less of us?

[S/O] No, nothing like that, you say sweet things.

____

[Ermac] The souls within our being have been cooing and whispering lately.

[S/O] Oh? About what?

[Ermac] You.

____

[S/O] Tell me more about your recent vision.

[Ermac] We are on Shang Tsungs island, somthing attacks, we are helpless, we fall down onto a field of death below.

[S/O] Perhaps sparring would take your mind off of it for a bit?

____

[S/O] Ermac, you seem distressed.

[Ermac] Nobody in this strange future seems to know what happened to us.

[S/O] Based on Shang Tsungs obvious smirks when you pass by, I have a pretty good idea where to look for answers.

____

[S/O] Tell me Ermac, do all ten thousand souls in your being share your love for me?

[Ermac] Explaining emotional projections of ourself and the role the souls have in it, is a complicated process.

[S/O] You know, I knew were going to say exactly that.

____

Quan Chi

[Quan Chi] What do I owe this little act of rebellion, pet?

[S/O] Just looking to stretch the muscles.

[Quan Chi] There are many ways to accomplish that.

____

[S/O] Shang Tsung told me a horrible lie, you’re going to tell me that it’s not true, right?

[Quan Chi] What horrible lie would you be referring to?

[S/O] The one where you plan on turning me into a revenant should I ever leave your side.

____

[Quan Chi] Tell me pet, where have you been sneaking off during the night?

[S/O] You know about that!?

[Quan Chi] Nothing happens in my realm without me knowing so.

____

[S/O] You don’t seem to care for working with the mighty sorcerer anymore.

[Quan Chi] I am finished with that snakes lies.

[S/O] So is this the end of the deadly alliance?

____

[Quan chi] Prove yourself worthy, pet.

[S/O] Worthy of what?

[Quan Chi] Worthy of the right to sharing my bed.

____

Scorpion

[Scorpion] You... you are my spouse in the future?

[S/O] Yes... Wait. Where is your future self?!

[Scorpion] I can explain!

____

[S/O] How strange, my face is getting warm.

[Scorpion] Perhaps it’s simply the heat of my hellfire in the air.

[S/O] Perhaps.

____

[Scorpion] The fire gardens have been restored...

[S/O] They are just beautiful as you described.

[Scorpion] Yet, not the most beautiful thing I’ve seen today.

____

[S/O] My future self is heartbroken over your death.

[Scorpion] Is that an accusation I hear in your voice?

[S/O] I simply wish that you wouldn’t let your anger guide you to your own destruction.

____

[S/O] You know, you and Sub Zero become allies in this future.

[Scorpion] He murdered my family!

[S/O] The only thing he murdered was the darkness corrupting your soul.

____

[S/O] What D’Vorah did is unforgivable.

[Scorpoin] It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been such a reckless fool.

[S/O] Quit sulking and help me squash a bug

____

Sub-Zero (kuai Liang)

[Sub Zero] You are shaking, darling.

[S/O] Well since you arrived, there seems to be a chill in the air.

[Sub Zero] How odd, shall we warm ourselves up?

____

[Sub Zero] Hanzo has been quite troubled recently.

[S/O] You are worried, love?

[Sub Zero] His soul burns with hatred, I can only hope he can learn to forgive.

____

[S/O] You have been thinking of Bi-Han?

[Sub-Zero] At times, I wonder if there was something I could have done.

[S/O] He chose his own path, all we can do now is hope he realizes what power has done to him.

____

[Sub Zero] Why do you protect frost?

[S/O] She is a child throwing a tantrum, let her mature and learn from her misdeeds

[Sub Zero] She is lost, nobody can save her now.

____

Raiden

[S/O] So, you become a tyrant god in the future?

[Raiden] Attempting to deny this would only seal my fate.

[S/O] Accepting it won’t help either, Raiden.

____

[S/O] I’ve noticed many scars on my future self.

[Raiden] Many battles are in your future.

[S/O] Why are so many of them Lichtenberg scars?

____

[S/O] Sindel is flirting with you again?

[Raiden] You think me the type to wonder, S/O?

[S/O] With one such as the traitor queen, one can’t help but worry.

____

[Raiden] Do you fear me, S/O?

[S/O] I fear what you will become.

[Raiden] And I fear what we will become.

____

[S/O] Quite a storm out today, any reason why?

[Raiden] With all that has happened recently, I feel lost.

[S/O] Then let us search for a way out together.

____

(Dark) Raiden

[S/O] Oh gods, what have you done?

[Dark Raiden] I have become the god that earthrealm needs

[S/O] You have become a monster!

____

[Dark Raiden] Do not abandon me my love.

[S/O] And of I decide to leave your side?

[Dark Raiden] Then I cannot guarantee your protection.

____

[S/O] You could have showed mercy to shinnok.

[Dark Raiden] You dare question my judgment?

[S/O] You once invited my input.

____

[S/O] Raiden... do you still love me?

[Dark Raiden] Have I not proved my love numerous times?

[S/O] Is that what you call the things you’ve done to me?

____

[Dark Raiden] Sacrifices must be made, when will you understand that!?

[S/O] What if it were me that you murdered on that building! Would I just be another “sacrifice”?

[Dark Raiden] Is... is that how lowly you think of me?

____

[Dark Raiden] Tell me it isn’t true...

[S/O] I’m sorry, but you need to be stopped.

[Dark Raiden] You were the only one I trusted!

____

[S/O] What the hell are you doing!?

[Dark Raiden] I am sorry, but to ensure earthrealms safety, you must be destroyed.

[S/O] Fuck you!

____

Kung Lao

[Kung Lao] Come to see the great Kung Lao, love?

[S/O] Heh heh, the great Kung Lou? What gives you that tittle?

[Kung Lao] Allow me to show you.

____

[S/O] I spent the day with your nephew.

[Kung Lao] Please tell me he didnt-

[S/O] I saw ALL the baby pictures.

____

[Kung Lao] According to Cassie cage, after Raiden gets me killed, you die under mysterious circumstances.

[S/O] Do not become obsessed over a possible future, and do not lose faith in Lord Raiden.

[Kung Lao] How can I keep my faith when it’s your life on the line!?

____

[S/O] I must confess, your family breaks my heart.

[Kung Lao] How so?

[S/O] Their harsh words about your nephews choice of love.

____

[Kung Lao] Why so focused on my clothes today, love?

[S/O] I simply thought that a higher neck collar would cover those... marks.

[Kung Lao] Why assume I want to hide them?

____

[S/O] Mind if I try on the hat?

[Kung Lao] Think you can wear it better darling?

[S/O] Only experience will tell.

____

Mileena

[Mileena] My love, your lip is bleeding!

[S/O] What can I say? You’re one hell of a kisser

[Mileena] I did that? My apologies my love!

____

[S/O] Mileena, perhaps you should reconcile with your sister.

[Mileena] You do not think I have tried!?

[S/O] Give her time my love, she has been through hell.

____

[Mileena] ooo don’t you look delicious~

[S/O] Why don’t you come take a bite?

[Mileena] Gladly.

____

[S/O] Mileena... about your father...

[Mileena] What!? Has he hurt you!?

[S/O] From the way he watches me, I fear he might.

____

[Mileena] Ha! Baraka is still practicly humping my leg!

[S/O] You plan to use him?

[Mileena] Only until that fool realizes I belong to you.

____

[S/O] Exactly forty three pieces of pure perfection.

[Mileena] And what exactly would you be referring to, love?

[S/O] Your teeth of course.

____

[S/O] Can’t lie, I have started to get attached to the new outfit.

[Mileena] Why? Because it shows my cleavage AND inner thighs?

[S/O] Something tells me you did that on purpose.

____

Shao Kahn

[Shao Kahn] Come to me spouse!

[S/O] You have need of me, emperor?

[Shao Kahn] I need somebody to take my mind off of my minions failures.

____

[S/O] Shao Kahn, is that you!? Your back!

[Shao Kahn] It’s been years, yet you have stilled remained faithful.

[S/O] You dare question my vows?

____

[Shao Kahn] Once I reclaim my throne from that fool, you will sit on it with me.

[S/O] Surly the throne isn’t big enough for both of us?

[Shao Kahn] Oh, I believe we’ll make due.

____

[S/O] Whats all this about sindel killing jerrod to earn your love?

[Shao Kahn] I have no damn clue what that woman has been spewing since she was resurrected.

[S/O] You told me she was nothing but a trophy for your power!

____

[Shao Kahn] They tell me you were in-prisoned after my defeat.

[S/O] Kotal Kahn wanted to make an example out of me, but reptile convinced him to spare me.

[Shao Kahn] That false king will pay for your suffering!

____

Kano

[Kano] Mmm I’m loving the new look

[S/O] You like all my looks

[Kano] cuz your one hell of a looker.

____

[S/O] Kano, maybe you should stop getting drunk before Kombat?

[Kano] You know I get stronger with the booze in me system.

[S/O] Then show me.

____

[Kano] Come on, come sit on daddy’s lap.

[S/O] I can literally smell you from here, hell no. Take a shower.

[Kano] Such a tease.

____

[S/O] How long do you plan to work alongside D’Vorah?

[Kano] Whats wrong? Scared of a bug on my foot?

[S/O] Just worried that it won’t be long until that bug EATS your foot.

____

[S/O] Kano, put on a shirt.

[Kano] oh cmon luv, don’t cha know, the less clothes on, the more damage ya do. You should try it.

[S/O] This was just an elaborate scheme to make me wear some skimpy outfit, wasn’t it?

____

Part 2

[amive2567]

Characters: Tamaki Amjiki x GNReader; Izuku Midoryia x FemReader; Shouto Todoroki x GNReader; Hitoshi Shinsou x GNReader; Katsuki Bakugou x GNReader

Warnings: mention of period, pranks, fluff, swearing, OOC characters (maybe?), suggestive themes in Bakugous part,

Summary: As a famous Herowatcher(Youtuber), you wanted to film a video about how your boyfriend's reaction to your prank.

Words: Tamaki:366 Izuku:532 Shouto:590 Hitoshi:416 Katsuki:528

In the last few weeks, you saw a lot of videos about partners pranking each other. There were different pranks they did, and you decided to pull the fainting prank on your boyfriend.

You both planned to train outside today. To record your prank, you set up a camera in a bush so that Tamaki wouldn't notice it. You felt a bit guilty about that what you were going to do. But still, you wanted to execute your plan. The sun was pretty warm, which gave you the perfect conditions to do this. You were doing jumping jacks but suddenly stopped.

Your prank is starting now. "Are you ok?" asked Tamaki, who noticed your behavior change. You nodded but stumbled to your water bottle. Before you could reach it, you "passed out". "Sunshine?" he froze in his tracks and was paralyzed as you tried not to react to his anxious cry for you. He kneeled beside you. His thumb caressed your cheek, and you felt that his hand was shaking. "Are you ok? Oh, I had to watch out better. If I only had reacted immediately, I am so sorry." his voice was breaking. He took your legs and held them high. He tried to stabilize your circulation. "Please wake up," mumbled Tamaki anxiously.

Now you decided to clear things off. "Darling, it's a prank," you said. "What? Why would you do that?" he asked, confused. "I saw it on the internet and wanted to try it, but I didn't want to scare you." You sat up and hugged him tightly.

After a couple of minutes, you broke away from him. "See, there is the camera." You pointed to the bush. Embarrassed, he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

After the two of you finished the actual training, you edited the video and posted it on Herowatch. In the next few days, the video had a couple of thousands of likes, views, and comments:

SuneaterfanNo.1: God, he was so worried about them. I wish I had such a boyfriend.

User219: I am feeling like a single pringle right now. :(

FanfictionAdict: Because of your videos, my expectations of getting a partner are way too high.

Precisely you tried to adjust the camera on a shelf between a bunch of All Might figures. You hoped he wouldn't notice the camera you put there. Izuku was still working, but he had to be home soon. That was the perfect moment to prepare your prank. You switched patiently between the different apps on your phone until a message popped up.

I am only changing and showering at the agency. After that, I will come home.

Alright, see you soon, love. Oh, could you please bring some chocolate on your way home?

Sure, see you, honey.

See you too.

You laid your phone on the nightstand, patiently waiting for your husband to come home. You feel bad pranking Izuku after his stressful day, saving the lives of probably many children and adults, but special situations needed special measures. It was probably totally worth it to see his reaction to your "horrible cramps". He was such a sweetheart. It would probably give him a heart attack. Well, now, with this thought, you felt a bit worse.

After some time passed, the door opened, and your boyfriend entered your decent flat. Now was your time to show the world that you didn't suck at acting. "I am home." shouted the green-haired pro hero through your flat. "In the living room." You tried to sound like you would be in pain.

Apparently, it was convincing in less than a second Izuku was next to you. "What happened? Where does it hurt?" Sometimes he was too observant for his own good. "My stomach hurts so much." "Oh, can you think of a reason? Did you eat something bad? I will get you a hot water bottle." He rushed to the open kitchen to prepare the hot-water bottle. "I am probably getting my period." You grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly. "Ahhh." you groaned extra dramatically. "Do you want to take some painkillers?" "Yes, please." He took the hot water bottle out of the microwave. With quick steps, he got back to your side. Gently, he took away the pillow and replaced it with the water bottle. "I get you the painkillers." With those words, he rushed to the bathroom.

"We don't have any painkillers." Shouted Izuku apologetically. "That's fine." "I can buy you some. You shouldn't have to be in pain, honey." He came back to you. "There is no need to." A mischievous smile spread across your face. "How can you smile when you're in pain?" "Because I am not." If you got asked who best embodied a question mark, it would be your husband. "What?" "It was a prank." you laughed. "See, there is the camera." You pointed toward the pile of All Might figures. His shoulders lost the tension, and he hugged you tightly. "I am glad you are alright."

On the same evening, you edited the video and uploaded it on Herowatch. Since you were the wife of the number one hero of Japan, the video went viral.

ASinglePerson: The poor man was so worried. He is such a cutie.

Deku'sgreatestfan: Ahhh, Deku is so great. I love him.

SomeoneYouWillNeverMeet: We need more Y/N x Deku videos. You guys are so cute.

Balancing on a ladder, you tried to mount the camera on the high bookshelf. You hoped Shouto wouldn't notice the camera you put on there. Since he was still working, you could prepare perfectly for your prank, or rather reaction video. The number of times you had already pranked him wasn't high, but every seldom time it was funny to see his reaction.

While waiting for Shouto to come home, you filmed your intro and arranged your new sleeping place on the couch. You waited patiently for him, and when the key in the door turned, you knew it was time to pull out your acting skills. Habitually you would greet him with a hug and a kiss, but today everything had to be like you planned it. "I am home." You needed to pull yourself together that you didn't answer. The silent treatment was the best thing you could think of at the moment. If you started to talk, you would probably tell him the truth. "Y/N?" asked the heterochromatic man again. You heard his tranquil steps coming closer to the living room.

As he entered the room, his eyes immediately locked with yours. His eyes were filled with confusion, seeing you on the couch covered in your blanket that you usually use to sleep. "Are you ok?" You nodded. Now it was getting serious. "Everything is fine. I merely want to sleep on the couch today." "Why?" "I think you can answer that yourself." The poor man had no clue what you were talking about. He knew he did the laundry, helped you with your documents at the agency, and made your food. What had he forgotten?

You pulled the blanket over your body to signal to him that this conversation is over. Without a word, he took out a book from the shelf, and you worried that he saw the camera. He sat down in the armchair next to the couch. The only sound you could hear was the flipping of the pages. At that moment, you loved him even more. He respected your privacy and decisions more than every other person in your life ever did. "I am going to sleep now, have a blessed night." He put a bookmark in the book and put it back on the shelf. You felt strange not to go with him to bed.

As he said, he went to bed, and the flat the two of you lived in was unusually quiet. It was strange laying alone in the dark. You were so used to his presence that you couldn't sleep. Now you regretted not clearing the prank. A ruffling sound in the darkness caught your attention. "Shouto?" you asked into the dark. "Y/N, I am so sorry. Whatever I did, I did it unintentionally. I never wanted to hurt your feelings. I can't sleep without you. Can I sleep next to you?" Quietly Shouto came closer to your unusual sleeping place. "Of course you can. I am so sorry. It was just a prank." You swung the covers aside and ran into his arms. Gladly, the moon lit up the living room so didn't walk into the furniture. "Let us go to bed," you suggested.

The next day, you edited the video and uploaded it. Since you were the lover of the number two hero in Japan, your video blew up.

randomperson: Where can you get a bf like this?

NoName: He is such a sweetheart. I wish I had such a boyfriend.

SingleLikeAPringle: I feel so single with your videos.

It was finally your day off of hero work, so you decided to drag Shinsou to a cat café. That was one of your two intentions. Your second intention was to prank him a bit. Your Foryoupage on TikTok particularly exploded with "What would you do if I go back to my ex." - Pranks. Since you developed a big community on Herowatch, you wanted to make a short video about it too.

Secretly you recorded the two of you entering the cat café. You know how much Hitoshi hated the attention, so you often recorded your videos alone. But not today. Today was the day the whole world can see that Y/N L/N has a boyfriend. Well, not today exactly, because you had to edit the video so that Hitoshi can't be seen properly. Besides, you didn't want him to make him feel uncomfortable. This was just a way to get rid of the creepy people of the internet.

You ordered your drinks, and Hitoshi was already occupied with stroking the first cat. You placed the camera inconspicuously on the floor, so only Hitoshi's legs could be seen. "You know if we broke up, I would go back to my ex." you suddenly said and waited for his reaction. He casually looked up from the cat and nodded. "That's fine. I would also like to go back to my ex." "What..?" you stuttered, trying not to choke on your saliva. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "You heard right. I would go back to my ex." "You're joking." "Maybe. Maybe not." Now he couldn't hold back small laughter.

"Alright, jokes aside. You're practically binge-watching all those "What would you do if I go back to my ex." - Pranks. I know what you were trying to do. We are both aware that we are the exes with whom we get back together." He said calmly. "You retrolled me," you exclaimed loudly. "That's what you get when you mess with me, kitty cat." he winked at you. "Yeah, whatever." you scoffed and petted the cat in your lap.

The next morning, you edited the video, and looking back on yesterday, it was a bit funny.

InternetAdict: He is a smart guy. You are a lucky person.

VoiceKink: His voice is so soothing. Can I get his voice somewhere?

LoveYou: Your videos are so great. We need more of your secret boyfriend. We don't even need to see his face. His voice is enough to make someone go weee.

It was a rare occasion that your boyfriend Katsuki was at home, but today was the day. Because of that, you had to take your chance. Since your boyfriend is the most observant person on this planet. There was no way to hid a camera, so you used your phone instead.

He was currently next to you in the kitchen and cooked dinner for both of you. You often volunteered to help him, but he said your cooking skills were worse than Todorokis, which was something you had never thought. The Bakusquad, and you still believe that he watched too many shows with Gordon Ramsay as a child. He definitely adopted his behavior in the kitchen. Only today, you tried to ignore him, only for the sake of seeing his reaction. You sat on the barstool in front of your kitchen counter and pretended to do something on your cell phone. Even if you were actually only filming. Let the fun begin.

"Oi, babe, pass me the curry." Usually, you would have corrected him about the way he demands things, but now you just ignored him. He turned around and watched you. "Alright, I am getting it myself." You looked so concentrated on your phone that he didn't want to distract you. It went on like this for what felt like hours until Katsuki was done with cooking your food. He put the steaming plate in front of you, then he sat down next to you. You were still on your phone, so Katsuki snatched it out of your hands. "Hey." You exclaimed and immediately covered your mouth with your hands. Great, now the prank was ruined. "Why are you covering your mouth like that. Are you finally gonna talk to me now?" Still, you wanted to last a bit longer, so you kept quiet. "Fine, then not."

The two of you ate in silence till Katsuki had enough. "Alright, dumbass, what's wrong? You usually never shut up, and now your all quiet and stuff. Did somebody hurt you? I'll beat their ass. They're gonna die." he growled. You had to suppress a chuckle. Sometimes he could be so caring. Well, at least in his own individual way. "Then don't talk to me. I didn't want to know it anyway." Now you couldn't stand it any longer. "Why are you laughing, dumbass?" he asked bewildered. "I was just kidding. Everything is fine. Never thought you'd care so much about me." "Yeah, I care about your stupid ass. Now I want an apology. A good one with physical effort, if you know what I mean." He winked, and you got it. The video you wanted to film was long forgotten as you dragged him closer to the bedroom.

In the evening, you found your phone on the counter. Immediately you started to edit this whole thing. You finished late at night and finally got to upload the video on Herowatch.

Tsunderefan123: He is such a tsundere, but a lovely one.

SingleMom: Every time I watch your videos where he is involved, I feel so single.

Adviceseeker: Tell me a secret, how can you get a guy like him?

[adorethedistance]

READING MY BOYFRIEND’S FANFICTION?? - Owen Joyner x Influencer!Reader

JATP masterlist

Requested: OMGGG!! Could you do a an Owen fic based around his girlfriend being an armature youtuber/social media influencer (shes also an actress and they met on set and have been dating for a while) and it’s “reading/reacting to my boyfriend’s fanfiction” ? You can do whatever you want with the fanfic part it’s just a concept that has been running around in my head for a while. LOVE ALL YOUR WORK!!

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, very mild

Words: 1460

A/N: A fic?? From Ace?? Hi. I’m off spring break officially and so my stress has dissipated immensely. School was becoming so much these last two weeks and I thought I’d be stressed or worried, but I’m actually fine? It’s weird lol so I decided I could be productive with my stress-free moment and post a little fic for y’all. I love this prompt, and before any of you writers panic, I’m using my own fics for the fanfictions because I wouldn’t want to put y’all on the spot like that. Also this is my 3000 post! thought that was cool lol

“Do you wanna do the intro?”

“I think I have to do the intro.”

“Okay, go for it.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out a heavy breath in exaggerated preparation for my (some would say lengthy) intro. “Hello, hi. Yes, okay, this is Y/n Y/l/n vlogs, welcome or welcome back to my channel!” Once Owen finishes his statement I’m so stunned I can’t generate any sort of response other than a slacked jaw semi smile.

“That was not even close. Do you know my intro?”

“I got the first part right!”

“You’ve lost intro privileges,” I turn back to the mess of lights and tripods in front of me and ignore the disaster of an intro Owen offered. “Oh, hello, hi! I am Y/n and this is: Reading My Boyfriend’s Fanfiction!”

“That’s basically what I did.”

“No, it is not! It’s ‘oh, hello, hi. I am ‘name’ and this is: ‘title of video’.”

“You don’t ‘welcome to my channel’?” Owen’s voice has dropped to a hushed volume as he genuinely inquires about the segments of my usual introduction.

“I do not.”

“Don’t use any of this,” he pleads when making direct eye contact with the camera. “Mister Sid. Editing Sid, please don’t embarrass me.” His pleas fall on deaf ears, knowing that I’ll be using the footage in full.

“Anyways. Butchered intro aside, I am Y/n and today I am here with my lovely “So Many Stars” costar and scene partner, Owen Joyner!”

“I’m also your boyfriend.”

“That too,” I give Owen’s pointed comment a soft place to land, “So, yesterday--it was actually like, two weeks ago, I don’t know why I said yesterday--a little while back, I came across a tweet telling me someone had written a fanfic about us-”

“Did you read it?”

“On Wattpad. Of course, I read it. There are only three chapters up right now and they’re all in the 2-3k range so it was a quick read.”

“2-3k?”

“Words,” I reply nonchalantly as I unlock my phone. I bookmarked a few one-shots beforehand for us to read, and I’m slightly cocky about my selections. Owen then responds with an outburst of shock.

“2-3 thousand words is a short read?” I merely give him a blank stare.

“Judging by that reaction, Owen hasn’t read any fanfics in his life.”

“Is that not long to you- That’s what she said.” Owen cuts me off with his own stupid joke and I briefly sigh before answering.

“No, that isn’t long. Baby, I’m here for that 130k slow burn enemies to lovers on AO3 with the ‘only one bed’ and ‘locked in a closet’ tropes.”

“The what?”

“Oh, we have so much to catch you up on.”

__________________________

“So I saved three fics, an angst, a fluff, and a smut. Which do you want to read?”

“Wait, what does that mean?”

“Oh my- okay. Angst is the sad shit, it’s what you read when you need your heartbroken and a good cry. Smut is pretty much in the name, it’s explicit content that will undoubtedly get this video demonetized, but that’s okay because we do have a sponsor. And fluff is the cute moments, domestic and sometimes mundane romance that makes you smile like an idiot and put the device down to screech into a pillow.” Throughout my whole explanation, I can tell Owen was becoming more and more lost, so I opt to give him a few moments to collect his thoughts.

“Let’s start with the fluff just to ease into things.”

“Smart choice. This fic I have saved is called ‘Baby Fever’ and the summary says ‘you and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own’.”

“That sounds so ominous.”

“Here, I’ll read the narration and reader’s POV, and then you’ll read your own dialogue.” Owen nods and leans over my right shoulder to read off of my computer screen.

“You actually start the fic.”

“‘You ready, little one?’” The instantaneous actor mode Owen slips into has me howling with laughter at which he looks at me confused. My gasping for air makes Owen laugh empathetically despite still being unsure as to what’s killing me at the moment.

“Why are you laughing?!” He yells, dramatically shaking my shoulder.

“Just the way you jumped into that, I wasn’t prepared for you to turn on the acting charm. Okay, uhhhh, ‘I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat’.”

The two of us go back and forth between reading the narrative, bouts of laughter, commentary on the accuracy of Owen’s character, and we finally manage to finish the 2.5k fic in about forty minutes.

“‘When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple-’.”

“‘I told you so.’”

“That was cute! I like the tie-in of having us watching over Baby Shada- or, sorry, you and ‘y/n’ watching over Baby Shada.”

“They wrote me kinda funny, I don’t think I’d ever fabricate a life to make conversation with a stranger due to baby fever.” My jaw drops slightly and before Owen can respond to my reaction, I cry,

“That is such a lie!”

“What?”

“You absolutely would do something like that, are you kidding me?!”

“No, I would not!” Owen punctuates every word with the utmost offense. He has the same look in his eye as when he was proving himself to be the cleanest phantom of the three on the Sunset Drive podcast.

“You literally told the guy at Home Depot yesterday that we were buying plants for our child’s nursery!”

“Okay, that’s different-”

“How is that different? That’s the exact same thing as fanfic you!” Owen’s furrowed brow and dropped jaw are a sight to be seen as he leans away from me, bending at the waist to stare at me with defiance. I raise my eyebrows pointedly as I await a response. Instead of actually producing a response, Owen lunges forward, grabbing my waist in his hands and squeezing gently. The feeling makes me screech and gasp of laughter from surprise and also being ticklish.

“Owen! Owe-STOP, I’m gonna drop my laptop!” I manage to say through my laughter and with one final grab, he releases me from his hold. It takes a minute for my laughter to settle but once I do, the two of us are simply breathing heavy and staring at one another with giddy smiles on our faces. In a moment’s clarity, I turn to look into the camera lens to talk directly to my editor,

“Sid, don’t use any of this. And please don’t cut to this after we finish reading to make it look like- things were happening.”

“Actually, I think you should, Sid. Just cut to right there and make the world think we-”

“OKAY, thanks for watching, bye!” I quickly stop the recording before Owen says something we’re unable to recover from. I hear him laugh gently behind me as I set my laptop down on the coffee table behind the tripod. Coming back to the couch, I move to plop down but before landing successfully on the cushion next to my phone, Owen grabs my body and moves me to sit on top of him.

“You are crazy, you know that?”

“Hmm. Crazy for you, maybe.” His cheesy line makes me scoff but smile nonetheless. I reach my right hand up to caress the side of his face as we sit cheek to cheek.

“Remind me to never film with you again.” The gesture is sweet and the sentiment is not which makes Owen laugh and he presses a soft kiss to my cheek. I lean back into him so my back is pressed flush with his chest as he lazily wraps both arms around me.

“You say that now but you’ll regret it when you wanna do a ‘boyfriend does my makeup’ challenge video.”

“Nah. I’ll just call Charlie to-” Without allowing me to finish my sentence, Owen is digging his fingertips back into the tissue of my sides and I squeal with laughter once more. This time the torment is short-lived and Owen releases me after a sweet, reconciling kiss. “Do you have baby fever now?”

“It was cute and all, but not really, no.”

“That’s too bad,” I stand up from my spot on his lap to grab my computer and hold it to my chest, “I was gonna say we could practice some baby-making.”

And with that, I turned on the balls of my feet, heading for my bedroom when I heard Owen stand up eagerly, quick to follow.

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayennefertyrell@n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki@vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​

[softomi]

now accepting boyfriend applications.

based on my fic idea: you’ve just become newly single, in a drunken fit, you posted a status indicating you’re accepting applications for your next boyfriend. Oddly, three boys take you up on that; sending in their most professional resumes for the position. It seems there’s some fierce competitors. 

next up: literature

It hurt, why wouldn’t it hurt. Your boyfriend of almost two years dumped you over text message with no warning and his reason? He just wasn’t feeling it anymore, what the fuck. Well, twenty phone calls, a hundred text messages sent to him, and a pretty nasty voicemail. The moment you realized just how crazy you were being was when you began pounding on his door at almost ten at night. His neighbors poking their head out to stare, and it really smacked you in the face how stupid you were being.

So you threw caution into the wind. it’s a Wednesday night, your first class tomorrow didn’t start until noon and you’re literature teacher was more of a lecturer so she probably won’t notice if you’re hung over. If anything, you could always ask the guy next to you for the notes.

Thus, you decide to throw back shots to your heart’s desire, sitting in the middle of your tiny studio apartment, on your bed to scream and cry at the romance movie. Love is dead. You groan loudly when your neighbor knocks against the wall, trying to tell you to promptly shut the fuck up.

Halfway through the movie, your mind is already swaying. Your throat stings just momentarily and you sip your cheap wine in hope it’ll dull the shots you had taken previously. When the male protagonist kisses the beautiful female of his dreams, you promptly chug the rest of the wine in your glass. Upset at their love, you wrap your lips around the tip of the wine bottle, drinking straight from it.

“I can find someone better.” You’ve reached a different point in your post break up sadness, you were mixed with anger, sadness, and an overall feeling of I’ll find someone with a better dick.

It’s never a good decision to post on social media while drunk, but it’s a great decision right now. You were going to post a ‘newly single’ status. Just to be nice and not spam everyone, you think you’ll just post it to your private account for your five friends to see. You’ve clearly neglected that step when you press post and it uploads to your public twitter account.

The urge to hurl takes priority over the sudden notifications on your phone. Your hair disheveled as you’re trying to hold onto the toilet, hold onto your hair, and throw up at the same time. The romance film comes to an end once you’ve fully emptied your stomach. You shove all the things off your bed, food falling onto the floor, empty bottle of wine rolled under your bed, remote lost somewhere. You fall asleep despite your cell phone going off.

The alarm jolts you, it causes you to scream, your palm slapping the snooze button and you aggressively pull the wire so that it comes out of the socket. Your head is throbbing and your cell phone is ringing at the same time. Annoyed, your hand stretches along the bed trying to find your cell. When you come emptyhanded, you sit up. Your hand steading the pulsing of your brain and you spot your phone ringing and vibrating on the ground.

“What?” You spit out, not bothering to look at the contact as you try to block out the sun.

“What do you mean what?” The voice snaps at you, “You post about boyfriend applications all of a sudden, did you guys break up?”

Of course he would be the one calling you, the person who loves gossip more than you do, “Tooru, can you like shut up for a second.” Your brain is dying and he’s over here trying to get the latest dish on your love life, “He dumped me okay.”

“That asshole.” He gasps, “Do you want me to come over?”

You look at the time on your cell briefly, “No. I have class all day. If you’re free later?”

“Of course!”

The phone call ends and rather than getting ready for the class you have in an hour, you’re checking your notifications. You have about twenty missed calls from Oikawa, another thirty text messages from him, he even left a voicemail; god he must have been desperate. Facebook is bland, you spent most of your time on Instagram deleting the photos of your now ex, and rarely do you ever get Twitter notifications. Oddly, you have fifteen notifications; all coming from your public account.

haha, boyfriend applications are official open. only taking serious apps lol

“No.” You sit up.

It wasn’t your post that freaked you out, it wasn’t that somehow it ended up on your public account, no you could delete it and pretend as if no one saw it but people saw it.

Is she serious?

If she is, I’m down.

What does serious applications mean?

Three comments, five likes, and four retweets.

And three unread messages.

Your finger rushes to delete the tweet before it can be retweeted even more by random classmates. All was good now. Your finger presses onto the message icon, you’re confronted with the icons of three of your classmates.

The most recent is from Miya Atsumu, a terrible flirt in your biology class. He chose the seat next to you in lab when his friends ditched him and hoarded their own table. He spun around in his chair, shooting you a cheeky grin when you briefly looked at him.

His first sentence was, “Hey you’re cute.”

And yours was, “I have a boyfriend.”.

You skip over his message upon spotting his use of sweetheart in the preview.

The next icon is of the guy in your intro to business class, Kuroo Tetsuro. The first time you saw him was outside of the classroom, you two ended up accidentally reaching the doors at the same time. He lets you go in first and the both of you chose the seats farthest from the board, and closest to the door. Despite his bed hair that made him look like he was going to sleep the entire class, he was a rather studious guy; chill but smart, he was a business major after all.

“Did you understand anything he was saying?” You murmur to him as you grab your bag.

“Of course!” He states, “I don’t look at twitter on my laptop when he’s lecturing.” Ah, he caught you.

Your eyes briefly scan the preview, he’s saying something about a resume and you think he’s talking about the homework assignment. You’re about to click on his first when the last catches your eye.

It’s from Akaashi Keiji. On the first day of class, you were late due to waiting in line for coffee. You awkwardly opened the door to the classroom, everyone turning to stare, and you lower your head, choosing a random seat that now you’re stuck with for the rest of the semester because that’s just how college works. The professor goes over the syllabus and suddenly announces that the person sitting to your right will be your revision partner for the semester.

“Hey.” You stop him and for a brief minute you feel your heart skip a beat because he was absolutely pretty, “Sorry, I’m Y/n. Since we’re going to be partners, do you want to exchange info?”.

“Uh. Sure. I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“I’m going to be late for my business class. Do you have twitter?” You were never a fan of giving your phone number out. Before he can answer, you’re scribbling your username onto a piece of paper, placing it on his desk before running out to catch your next class.

His message is brief: Did you get my email?

You click his message first; it must have been urgent if he messaged and emailed you. There’s nothing else to his message, his previous one dates almost a week before his current one, telling you that he finished reading the book you recommended and that he enjoyed it.

The screen is pulled up with your finger, alternating apps to your personal email. The subject of his email simply reads Application.

Curiously, you click the attachment he’s sent with no body text. Your jaw dropped, hand placed over your open mouth and a small scream emitting.

“Is he fucking serious?”

His name is displayed at the top, along with his birthday, star sign, zodiac sign, age, even the pronouns he uses. There’s a short sentence under it. I am submitting an application for the position of Boyfriend. You’re internally screaming, blinking fast hoping that this was a joke but his ‘application’ reads like a resume. It lists his education from middle school to his current, his previous jobs, his skills, and his own personal goals for the future.

Your blushing profusely, you want to pull your hair, scream, even throw your phone but you shove down the feelings that want to have you die of embarrassment. You don’t have the energy to sadly explain to him that you were drunk and weren’t serious; ugh and you’re going to have to continue seeing him for the rest of the semester.

You revert back to twitter; your heart suddenly drops when you think about Kuroo’s message. Quickly, you pull up the messages, clicking his and suddenly you want dig yourself a grave because he’s sent a link to a pdf and it’s simply titled Resume. He probably used a resume template and never changed the title.

And sure enough, it’s a fucking professional resume declaring the certain skills he has to be your boyfriend. In fact, like the professional business major he is, he includes a letter of intent; indicating his reasons of interest for the position. It details the little quirks he finds cute about you. You want to break your phone in half with how red in the face you feel.

As you exit his message, you’re slowly praying that Atsumu’s message is just a random flirty comment that he occasionally likes to throw you once in a while or perhaps you’re hoping that he fell in a ditch and you won’t have to work with him for the rest of the semester since he almost blew up the lab station last time.

Nope, it’s a link to a google document. Oddly, you click it. Your heart has sunk to the pit of the earth because when you open the document, you see his fucking name in the upper right corner indicating he’s still on the stupid document.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re running away from the document, aggressively leaving the page but it doesn’t help that when you end up back at your twitter messages, you can see the three dots, telling you he’s typing.

Morning sweetheart hope you enjoy the app

He sends it with a flirty wink and you stare at it for five full minutes. Curiosity gets the best of you and you click back onto his link, he’s no longer on the same document and you sigh safely. For someone who’s barely passing biology, his document was rather professionally detailed. Damn, he’s on the school’s volleyball team? Weirdly the page cuts off halfway, you continue to scroll until the next title page boldly states: Bedroom skills.

It didn’t help that you were scrolling a little too fast and caught sight of an image showing off his toned upper body. There goes his professionalism.

Your phone suddenly blares low battery, your screen turns black and now your anxiety is through the roof. You jump on your bed, trying to plug in your phone and you’ve just now realized that it is thirty minutes until your first class starts and it is literature. You’re scrambling to find your laptop, you trip on the bag of chips from last night, awkwardly trying to stand as you reach for your school bag.

“Shit!” You scream. You suddenly remember letting your stupid ex-boyfriend borrow your laptop.

You fall to the floor, fingers pulling your hair as you suddenly think about the deep shit your in. First, your boyfriend dumped you, now you randomly have three guys who sent you applications to be your next boyfriend and you’re still going to have to see them for the rest of the semester if you reject them. Lastly, you’re going to have to go to your ex’s place to get your laptop after having made a scene yesterday, and your phone is dead so you can’t cry to Oikawa about the deep shit you’re in.

[bustyasianbeautiespod]

Episode 1 Transcript: Not Exactly Like the Tom Bradys

G: Hello, everyone, this is post-edit Grey. I just wanna inform you all that for this episode and a couple of the few ones after this, the audio quality is not exactly the best. However, I hope you guys still stick around, because it does get better. Thank you!

-

[intro guitar music]

G: Hello! My name is Grey.

C: And my name is Crystal.

G: And this is Busty Asian Beauties, a Supernatural commentary podcast where I, someone who has seen the show several times

C: and I, someone who only knows the show through social media, discuss every single episode of Supernatural, from start to finish. Also, we are both Asian.

G: We are both Asian.

G: So, first episode of the show, the pilot. Crystal.

C: Yep.

G: Since you've never seen the show before, I am going to ask you: what do you think will this episode be like?

C: Okay, so I feel like I've seen honestly probably most of the plot of this episode through social media already. I know it starts with a flashback and Mary burning on the ceiling and John screaming, "Mary, Mary," whatever, and then we go to Sam at Stanford, and then Jess is there and she's hot. And then Dean shows up, and they have to go find their dad, and then there's like some creepy ghost lady or something-

G: You know so much!

C: - I guess they kill her at some point? I guess I assumed it would probably be through burning or something. And then Jess dies at the end of the episode. Yeah. So I feel like I know what happens in this episode already.

G: Yeah, sounds like.

C: Next episode, though, no clue.

G: Well next episode, we can't even say the name of, so, Supernatural, go!

C: Right. Next episode, redacted.

G: So let's start talking about the episode now. The intro screen, right? It changes every season. Did you know that?

C: Yes. I don't actually remember what the intro screen was for this episode, it wasn't particularly memorable.

G: It's very forgettable, yes, it's not memorable. It's just a black screen and "Supernatural" in bluish-white, so it's not significant. I suppose every season we have to talk about the intro screen.

C: Right.

G: So that's going to be our thing.

C: That sounds like a good idea. Graphic design is their passion.

G: Graphic design- [laughing]

-

G: First off, we open up in Lawrence, Kansas, and it's a happy family intro. Okay, I have a question. I have a question for literally every scene in this show. Do you, in your family,for example, do you put babies in another room?

C: I think like when I was little, my crib was in my parent's room for a bit.

G: Yeah, exactly!

C: Because it seems a lot easier to do that than to have a baby monitor set up next to your bed and get out of bed and walk to another room every time the baby's crying. Like I don't know what the point is.

G: Like what if the baby chokes in their sleep? You have to have the baby beside you! What if the baby has a demon feed them blood?

C: Exactly! Exactly! If the Winchesters were just Asian and kept Sam in their room, none of this would have happened.

G: So, Sam is in a separate room, and the clock stops, and the lights flicker-

C: Can we talk about the decor in his room, actually? Because he has this baby mobile, right? And you look up. And it's like little baseballs and baseball bats just hanging around? Like, what is with that? Like, they were like, "this is a boy baby, and therefore, instead of having cute animals like the average baby mobile, we're gonna have sports so he knows to sport"?

G: Yeah, it's a baby. It doesn't care about sports.

C: And then later, John asks Dean, "Hey, do you think Sammy's old enough to kick around a football?" which is like, a joke I guess, but Sam is six months old, stop making him kick around a football!

G: Okay. It was kinda cute, okay, Crystal?

C: Fine.

G: It was kind of cute, so I'll give them a pass.

C: Alright, this is just the establishing scene, right, and they decided the establishing fact about Sam is that he is boy and does sport.

G: Yes. [laughing] It doesn't do wonders for our trans Sam agenda, but

C: I guess they just knew early. At six months old, their afab little baby was like "I'm a boy now" and they were all like, really supportive.

G: So, Mary thinks that John is in the room, so she goes out, and I must say, the shadow effect in this episode is exceptional. It looks really good.

C: They did a good job with it.

G: Like, every time that they do a shadow scene, so like, the Dean-Sam fight scene later on, the one where they're in the staircase, it always looks gorgeous. It looks amazing. And Mary walking around looks amazing as well. And then, you know, it's the usual. She finds John in the living room, sleeping, and then she runs upstairs, a scream, and then John, and then- we all know what happens. This is the pilot episode of Supernatural! We all know what happens.

C: Right. He looks up, there's blood dripping on his hand, he looks up, it's Mary, stabbed to death on the ceiling. He screams, and she bursts into flames.

G: And then there's the iconic line, you forgot it!

C: Oh right. [in unison] "Take your brother outside and run-

G: -as fast as you can, now, Dean! Go!"

Dean takes Sam outside and they're sitting outside and there are firefighters everywhere, and then we cut to black, and it's Stanford! We are at Stanford. Present day.

-

C: Good for Sam. I don't know how he got his rec letters or how he got in without any extracurriculars, but I don't know, but maybe 2005- or I guess 2001 was when Sam applied? I guess maybe it was easier back then.

G: So we're at Stanford, and we see Jess, first and foremost. She's wearing a-

C: - sexy nurse outfit.

G: Sexy nurse outfit! And she looks hot.

C: Right, she does.

G: She looks amazing doing it.

C: And they specifically pan up from her legs, like they're trying really hard to sexualize her.

G: I actually did not notice that because I was looking at the foreground, at the Mary/John portrait. I was focusing on that, and I thought it was, you know, it's Mary and John! What more do you want?

C: The perfect marriage!

G: And then we have the iconic- it's not iconic, but the first line in the show by a main character, well I guess Dean spoke earlier, but by Sam. "Do I have to?" Which, you know.

C: Poor Sam.

G: Really embodies Sam's character. It's just "do I have to?" over and over again.

C: Sam's getting dragged around all this episode.

G: And then they go to a party and they talk about Sam's LSAT score, which I have no idea what a high LSAT score is. Do you?

C: No, what did Jess say it was? Like 176 or something?

G: 174.

C: I'm assuming the LSAT is out of 180, but I can check. Oh, yeah, it's 120 to 180, so 174 seems pretty good.

G: Good for him! Good for Sam.

C: Congrats, Sam.

G: And then, this is the beginning of one of our little segments inside the segment which is talking about the actual show, which is "Grey doesn't understand Americanisms." Because I don't, and there's a line here where Sam goes, "We're not exactly the Bradys," and then the dude he's talking to goes, "Well, we're not exactly-" and then a name that I did not catch. Do you have any idea what that means?

C: The Bradys is referencing The Brady Bunch, which I think is like a show- oh, okay, so Luis said, "I'm not exactly the Huxtables," and I've not heard of the Huxtables, but Urban Dictionary says-

G: I thought the Bradys were like, Tom Brady? Because he's the only Brady I know!

C: Oh, no, no. No, it's like, The Brady Bunch, I think it's like a family show where everyone's really close? Okay, so the Huxtables was a family on The Cosby Show and it's used to reference upper-middle-class Black people or families.

G: Oh, 'cause he's talking to a Black guy, yes?

C: Right, right, I guess Luis is Black and Sam is white, so he is talking about the Bradys and Luis is talking about the Huxtables-

G: Oh. I really thought it was Tom Brady! Because they talked about, like, home run, right? And that's- I'm sorry, that's a baseball thing, right?

C: Yeah, it's a baseball thing.

G: And Tom Brady is a baseball player.

C: Is he?

G: Or, I don't know, football? American football?

C: Yeah, he's a football player.

G: [laughing] I am failing at understanding references.

C: It's all good. Honestly, I'm not great at references either.

G: When I was younger, 'cause Dean spouts references, right? Like, later on, he also says references that I took note of. When I was younger, I thought the reason why I didn't get anything that Dean says is because I'm just young. I haven't been cultured enough, so that's why I don't get it, but now I'm like, "no, he just really says shit, though."

C: Yeah, he really just says shit.

G: Later on in the show, he really will just start referencing whatever. And you know Cas's famous line, like [in unison] "I don't understand that reference." I feel that incredibly deeply.

-

G: We have Jess and Sam sleeping for the next scene. They kiss, and then they go to bed and sleep.

C: Yeah, and they're sleeping back-to-back under no blankets in late October where it's probably cold! What are you doing?

G: For real? Amazing. And then we get the next shadow scene, as I say, which is Dean walking into the... dorm? Is this a dorm?

C: I think it's an apartment because if Sam's a senior, then he probably has the chance to live off-campus, and a dorm would not allow him to live with Jess, probably, like I think school dorms are usually quite separated by gender, so I think it's an apartment that he and Jess are renting.

G: We get the Sam and Dean first fight scene. Yes! And then we get the iconic-

C: I love how we're supposed to-

G: Sorry. Go on.

C: I love how we're supposed to be scared of Dean when we first see there's an intruder or something, but then you see his silhouette. He has his stupid spiked-up hair, and honestly probably his stupid prettyboy eyelashes in the silhouette; that is not a threatening figure.

G: Literally, like, he was doing a pout! He was doing a pout with his mouth! He was like, pouting! Like he's not threatening at all.

C: Like, I'm not scared of this little man, he's 26, dude!

G: We get the iconic line, the first adult Dean line, which is, "whoa, easy tiger." I love that line.

C: It's the Year of the Tiger, by the way! Right? So, very opportune.

G: Yes. We are in fact Asian and we know that it is about to be the year of the tiger.

C: Right. It's not started yet.

G: So we have Sam and Dean talking. A line that I noted there was Sam says, "You should've called." And then Dean says, "Well if I had called, would you have picked up?" which is like oooh. Ouch. I feel bad for Dean. So like, throughout this episode I was like, "Dean is so fucking annoying! Sam has an interview, don't you get that?" And then towards the end, when he was like, "okay, I'll drive you home," and then the shot of the camera is just showing him- It's weird, because I've never seen them do this shot again in the show, I don't think. The shot where Dean is sitting- we're skipping ahead, but that's fine. So the scene where Dean is sitting and the camera is literally perpendicular to him, I was like, "I've never seen this shot anywhere else in the show." It's weird that they only use it once, if they only really did use it once.

C: Yeah, maybe it's a pilot thing.

G: But also, it's weird 'cause it separates them, you don't see the brothers together. So I guess the whole point is the separation or whatever.

C: Yeah, yeah. Good catch.

G: And then Dean says the Smurf comment...

C: Right. Love a man whose third line is sexual harassment.

G: [laughing] Oh my god. And then Sam pulls this thing where he's like, "If you wanna talk to me, you have to talk to Jess, too," and Dean was like, "Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days." And Sam's like, "Excuse us. We need to go outside." And it's like, “Sam, are you stupid?” Like, you know.

C: Like what did you think he was gonna say?

G: Yeah, what did you think?

C: "Hi, Sam, can I borrow some money?" Like what did you think was happening here?

So they go outside, right, yeah?

G: Yeah, they go outside, and we get exposition, exposition, exposition. "Ever since Mom died," blah blah blah.

C: The most unnatural dialog ever.

G: But at least it looks pretty! Compare it to season 15 of Supernatural.

C: Sam looks real pretty with the shadows on his face.

G: Yeah, he has the K-pop boy mullet hair cut-

C: [laughing] No, he literally does!

G: Like it's like a middle part and then a little bit of a mullet thing going on. He looks good! He looks pretty. But it is exposition. And Sam says, "You think Mom would have wanted this for us? He raised us like warriors." And I was like, ah!

C: Yeah, I never understood why they said "warriors" instead of "soldiers." Warriors sounds quite heroic and noble, soldiers sounds more like "ugh, we're sludging through the trenches."

G: Well, you know. Actually, I don't know. I have no idea why they said warriors instead of soldiers.

C: Yeah, I guess maybe they were still trying to set up the glorification of hunting even though Sam is currently against it?

G: Yeah, the heroism of it all. Dean asks Sam, "What, are you just gonna do this? Live a normal life?" And then Sam says [in unison] "Not normal, safe." Safe, yes. And then Dean's like, "You ran away! Is that why you ran away?" And then Sam says, "Dad told me that if I should go, I should stay gone." And like, agh! Sam! Because when I first watched Supernatural, I was a Deangirl. I loved Dean. I started watching Supernatural again last year from the start. Because usually I just pick episodes I like and then I watch those. But this time I was like "let's do it chronological." And watching Sam now that I'm older and closer to his age at the beginning of the show, I'm like, "Oh! This hits!" 'Cause like his plot, I understand now why a lot of people gravitate towards Sam in the first seasons. 'Cause his plot, just in this first episode, is just like, agh!

We get Dean saying that- he says, "I can do this alone, but I don't want to," which is such a Dean thesis statement.

C: It is, yeah.

G: And then we get the iconic "I'm 26, dude!" Like Sam's like, "Okay, tell me the lore."

C: [laughs] Iconic.

G: Well, he doesn't say "lore" yet.

C: Yeah, I don't think lore happens until later.

G: I can't wait for it. I'm looking forward to hearing Sam say the word lore for the first time.

C: Yeah, me too.

G: But Dean does list the lore.

C: And I'm also looking forward to "So, get this" as well.

G: Yeah. "So, get this"? Ah! Sam! And then he lays out the voicemail, and I wrote in my notes, "I do not care," because I really do not care about the plot. I do not care about the hunting plot of any episode of Supernatural. So in this podcast, if you're expecting us to go into detail about the hunting plot of every episode of Supernatural, well, unfortunately, we really only care about the characters.

C: Yeah, very very true. And I only really care about Cas, so it'll be until season 4 when I'm really engaged.

G: [laughing] So Dean's like, "It's been two years, I've never asked you for a thing."

C: Right, which is weird because college is four years.

G: Yeah, and Sam is a senior.

C: Right, I mean unless Sam sped through his classes...

G: I think it's been talked about. I've read about it, this is a mistake in the script. 'cause they were supposed to age down Sam and Dean, and then they aged them up, but they forgot to add the two years in the dialog. But because they said it already in canon, it is canon that for the first two years of college, Sam and Dean were in contact! That could be interesting. Of course they never explore it, but it could be interesting.

C: Right. Right. Is that the end of the conversation?

G: Yeah, I think so.

-

C: Sam's like "okay," and then goes back in and he's packing, and Jess is like, "Are you sure you wanna do this? You never talk about your family or you seem to have issues with them, tell me where you're going" and Sam's like, "It'll all be okay! And I'll totally make the interview!" And then- I don't know, was there an issue with the way it was shot? Because it seemed like he just totally abandoned his bag of knives on the bed and then just walked out empty-handed.

G: [laughing] I did not notice that at all. Maybe he just forgot. Maybe later on he'll come back.

C: And then Jess yells after him, "At least tell me where you're going!" and then it cuts.

G: It cuts to Jericho, California.

C: And Sam's gonna feel really bad about walking out on Jess by the end of this episode.

G: Yeah! At least they have that call in the middle. Is that even a call? That's a voicemail, right?

C: You don't say I love you at the end of a voicemail though, right?

G: Okay. Here's a fun fact. In my country, we don't have voice mails, so I've never received or given a voicemail. It's just never occurred, never happened. So I don't know the etiquette of voicemails.

C: Or, okay, maybe- I think maybe actually you do sometimes say I love you at the end of voicemails. Yeah, maybe Sam was just listening to a voicemail. It seemed weird that he didn't reply to the I love you, like that seems rude, so perhaps...

G: Perhaps it is a voice mail. So this is the last time they spoke to each other. That is so sad.

C: Right. Sam didn't answer the question, and he just left all his knives!

G: He just left without his knives!

C: What if Brady went and stabbed Jess with one of the knives Sam left behind?

G: You know what's interesting? You know about Brady, and I don't. I don't remember Brady at all. But I know who he is.

C: The Samgirls are really into him.

G: Yeah, I know. The Samgirl nation is really into Brady. Unfortunately, I am more of a Casgirl myself, so... But I love Sam. Let it be known by everyone that I love Sam.

C: Yeah. Let it be known by everyone that I love Cas.

-

G: So we go to Jericho, California, and we see a dude come across this woman in a white dress.

C: Right. And at first I was like "Why the fuck would you let her in? She looks gray!"

G: Because it's Halloween. It's Halloween.

C: Right, it's Halloween. He was like, "This woman has creepy vibes, but that is on purpose and not as a result of her ghostly nature."

G: So the guy is obviously flustered, and the girl asks the guy to come home with her.

C: Right. He stares at her boobs a lot and then says, "Hell yeah!"

G: Yeah, and her thighs... It's, it's, you know. It's a scene from Supernatural.

C: Yeah. It's a scene from Supernatural.

G: So, they stop-

C: Do we know why she's in that dress? 'cause I'm assuming she didn't kill herself while wearing her tits-out dress.

G: Yeah, I mean, is it a nightgown?

C: Is it a night gown? Are nightgowns usually this tits-out?

G: Because it's like, thematic if it's a nightgown because Mary dies in a nightgown. Jess does not wear a nightgown, but she dies in a nightgown, right?

C: She's in some kind of white dress. There's like a sash on it though, right?

G: Maybe it's an oversized shirt.

C: Yeah.

G: We're just making excuses for Supernatural at this point.

They stop at the house at the end of- and I highlighted this- Breckenridge Road. I don't know why. It's irrelevant. But the woman says, "I can never go home" and disappears. Ooh! Creepy! And then [laughs] a bat attacks the guy.

C: Right.

G: Which I thought was so funny. And then he goes running away in his car, ends up on a bridge, and we see a blood splatter.

C: Well, first there's like the panning shot from him in the driver's seat to her in the backseat and then her in the mirror, which I thought was a little classic horror move, but I thought it was fun. And then screaming, car shaking, blood, uh oh!

-

G: We cut to Sam and Dean... Okay. I have another Americanisms question. Do gas stations like this really exist?

C: I mean, that one looks pretty run down, like grimier than the gas stations I usually see.

G: Because like, this gas station looks like it's from fucking Red Dead Redemption. [C laughs] Like it looks so old and run down... Isn't that dangerous?

C: You know, it definitely looks like it got attacked by the Dust Bowl and then no one bothered to fix it afterwards.

G: And this is in California, right? California, what is California?

C: Yeah, California doesn't have dust bowls.

G: Is it a desert state?

C: Yeah, well it's called the Golden State, I think is the nickname, but yes, it is mostly desert and also-

G: Yeah, so maybe it is in the desert-y area of California.

C: Yeah. Yeah. That makes sense.

G: But all I was thinking was, "It looks dangerous." Like, it looks so dangerous.

C: Yeah, I don't think it's really up to building code standard.

G: And Sam is talking about credit card scams just like, out loud.

C: Right, and also like in the sloppiest exposition known to man after the first sloppy exposition of the episode.

G: Yes. So he's talking about scams out loud for everyone and God to hear. Just, out loud. And then he dunks on Dean's cassette collection, which is always funny. We get the iconic line, "Driver picks the music-

C: "-shotgun shuts his cakehole."

G: Yes, amazing. And then we get our- is this the first music cue? It is, right?

C: Maybe, yeah I think so.

G: Yeah. We get "Back in Black." Which is a good song, I must admit. I have rocked out to it multiple times after watching Supernatural when I was thirteen.

C: I feel like I haven't really listened to any music that was made before 2000? So, is ACDC- is "Back in Black" from after 2000?

G: ACDC, yes. It's an old song.

C: I've heard of ACDC. Okay, yeah, I just don't know classic rock, like at all.

G: I only know classic rock because I watched Supernatural [C: Supernatural!] young. Literally. You know what, a friend of mine, a British friend of mine was like, "You are the prime victim of the American dream." Because like, I watched Supernatural once, and immediately I'm like "I'm gonna listen to classic rock, I'm going to do all of these things that are considered American."

C: Ouch.

G: It's, yeah, yowch.

C: Yeah, instead of yassification, USAfication?

G: Yeah, it's very unfortunate. And you know, we are pushing back against the USAfication of Grey.

C: Yeah.

-

G: Okay. So they drive some more, and they end up [in unison] on the bridge.

C: And for some reason, all the blood splatter that was there before is gone.

G: Yeah, totally gone.

C: And they're like, "The car is completely clean, there's no sign of a struggle..."

G: The car is clean. There's nothing on it.

C: Do you think she just licked up all the blood? Like what do we think happened?

G: No, because like, if the body is gone, it's not a leap to say the ghost

C: - disappeared the blood -

G: Disappeared the blood as well. Because it is also part of the body, so.

C: Right. That is true.

G: Yeah. It's not a continuity error at all. So, you know, we have federal marshals telling Sam and Dean that they're too young and Dean saying, "Aw, that's awfully kind of you mister!" or something like that, which I was like, "Ah! This guy is charming." Unfortunately. [both laugh] Okay. So they talk a bit to the marshal about what's going on.

C: Dean has his ACAB moment.

G: Yeah. Do you remember the line?

C: "Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys."

G: Yeah. [laughing]

C: And then Sam stamps on his foot. Very siblings.

G: Sam stamps on him. And afterwards, Dean hits him on the head and is like "What was that for?" It's like, it's very funny. It's very siblings. Like, I have done that with my siblings.

C: It is very siblings. Absolutely.

G: It's very fun to watch. And then, you know, they go out. They go looking for this girl.

C: Right. Troy's ex, Amy?

G: What's her name? Amy? Amy.

C: And they find her.

G: They say they're Troy's uncles? Did you catch that?

C: Right, yes. Which, like, you know what? Is fair, because I'm the aunt to people who are older than me 'cause my dad's the youngest out of seven siblings, but like...

G: Yeah. My mom's the youngest out of ten siblings.

C: Oh, wow, nice! High-five!

G: It's, it's you know. I have cousins that are super old. Like, older than my mom.

C: Yeah. I think I'm technically a grandmother? One of my nephews is in his twenties and had a baby?

G: Yeah. It's the natural order when you have a big family. It just happens. But like, would you introduce yourself as like "I am the grandmother," "I am the great-aunt," you know?

C: I would not. Like, cousins works so much better. I don't get it.

G: Yeah. We're his cousins! "We're his uncles"? You're 26, dude.

C: [laughs] Also, like, it's weird. Amy says "He never mentioned you to me," like how often do you talk about your uncles to your partner? Like, not often.

G: Yeah, that's why they were able to get away with it! So it's fine.

And, you know, they're talking in the cafe booth. And you know, they mention the pentagram, Sam mentions it's actually to ward off the devil, etc etc, and then Dean- there's only one thing that I remember from this scene, and it's that Dean says "ladies," like he calls the girls "ladies," and I find that so annoying.

C: I remember that too. Yeah, I was like- I think I wrote down "Dean misogyny tally number 2" or something.

G: It's so annoying! Don't- I don't know.

C: Yeah, it seems condescending.

G: Yeah, it is.

C: Right, and like, her boyfriend just died? Be a little nicer.

G: But they do have that cute moment where the girl- or Amy says, "Oh, they talk about... something" and then Sam and Dean both go "What do they talk about?" at the same time. And I was like, “Ah! Siblings.”

C: Siblings.

G: Look at them.

C: Yeah. Still in-sync after many years apart.

-

G: And then they go and research about what Amy said, which was that someone got murdered on Centennial. And then when researching-

C: Using the world's oldest Google-

G: Dean's researching, and he can't find jack shit. So Sam pushes him aside and does the research for him. Dean calls Sam a control freak,

C: Which is so ironic, given that Dean is absolutely the control freak.

G: They find out that-

C: Constance Welch-

G: Constance Welch committed suicide after her kids died-

C: Both her kids drowned in a bathtub or something.

G: Yeah, her kids died on the bathtub, she died on the bridge.

C: Oh my god, wait, sorry, um, I'm looking at the transcript now, and it says that the last line of the article is, "'Connie might have been quiet, but she was the sweetest, most caring girl I ever knew,' said Deanna Kripke, a neighbor"!

G: [laughing]

C: Eric just namedropped his own wife into this article!

G: Yeah, well he's in love.

C: Oh, right. She's not like that hateful Jessica that broke his heart in college and now must die on ceilings.

-

G: So they go to the bridge and it's night now, it's nighttime. They go to the bridge and they start talking about- Sam is like, "I'm not gonna do this forever," which agh! Oh my god.

C: Sorry, Sam.

G: Sorry, Sam.

C: Sorry, bud.

G: Dean was like, "You're one of us," and Sam's like, "I'm not like you, I'm- this is not gonna be my life," and then Dean- the ic- I keep saying iconic, but it's actually not that iconic- but like the scene where Dean's like, "Well, you have a responsibility" and Sam's like, "What? To you? To Mom? Mom is dead, and she's never coming back." And Dean gets mad at him.

C: Right. That scene is so interesting to me because earlier we see like the brothers roughhousing around with the foot-stomping and the head-smacking, but this is a moment that feels actually dangerous, like it no longer feels like siblings, like I'm like scared of Dean, like I'm realizing there's a hierarchy in this relationship, you know?

G: I don't know. I didn't see it as that. I didn't see it as Dean being like-

C: I- as a Dean- as a Dean hater [laughing]- as a Dean hater-

G: Are you ready to alienate half of our audience?

C: Sorry. As a Dean- as a complicated feelings about Dean person, I felt- I think, it's also, I'm an older sibling, and I would never do that to my younger sister. I would not do that, like that's so bad! Like, they're on a bridge!

G: You have never had your sister on a chokehold? Are you-

C: No.

G: No? Well, I am the younger sibling, so-

C: Once she bit me until I bled because I was singing a song that annoyed her, but like-

G: [laughing] I think it's the sibling hierarchy. Like if you're older, and you're much older, you're not allowed to be an asshole.

C: I'm only two years older. I think I'm allowed to be an asshole, I just never really was.

G: You're kind of allowed. Meanwhile, [laughing] I have literally gone on wrestle fights with my siblings.

C: I've definitely fought my sister before, but it was never just a sudden- like there was always a chance for her to fight back, like the chokehold- there wasn't really a chance for Sam to fight back, you know?

G: Yeah, I guess so. But it wasn't like a serious threat, he was just like, holding him against the post.

C: Yeah, I think it's also that I'm scared of heights, so I'm like "Oh god! You're shoving him against a bridge! He's going to die!"

G: Anyway, they do jump off the bridge because they see Constance Welch. And then she jumps off the bridge, and she turns on the engine of the car, and she drives them off to the side of the bridge.

C: Right. Dean gets covered in mud-

G: Sam holds on-

C: Sam's hanging off the edge-

G: Right. Sam's hanging off the edge because he's smarter than Dean. [both laugh] And so he's holding off the edge, and then he does this little laugh, which is the first time we see him, I guess, laugh in Dean's vicinity. Like he does this laugh of relief, and that was very sweet.

C: Yeah, I was like "Oh, that's sweet! Because aww, you were just fighting, but you still care."

G: Yes. And then, you know, Sam gets off the bridge- Dean, I mean, gets off the bridge-

C: Dean says, "That Constance chick, what a bitch!" which is Dean misogyny tally number 3.

G: And he shouts it so loud, too.

C: It's so loud.

G: It's like, every single time I watch this episode- and I've watched it a bunch- I always am like, "Oh! Oh! He really just says it! He really just shouts it!"

C: It's so loud. Right. And it's like- I feel like in 2005, the word "bitch" was way worse than it is now? I feel like now, people just say it to talk to their friends all the time, I feel like in 2005 it was more of a swear word, so, truly Dean misogyny moments number 3.

G: If you keep that tally up, we will never- until the end of the show, I am interested if we keep this up.

C: Yeah, I'll try. I'll write down the numbers.

-

G: [laughing] So they go to the motel and they find John's room because of the credit card whatever. And then, you know, they find that John actually already solved the thing. He already solved the mystery! So why is this Constance "chick," as Dean says- do you say chick, by the way?

C: Yeah, he says "that Constance chick, what a bitch."

G: No, no, you. Do you say chick?

C: Um, no, I do not say chick. I feel like there was a reckoning in like maybe 2010 that it was kind of misogynistic and then it sort of like tapered off. And I was too busy being in elementary school before then to say chick.

G: I actually- in my country, you call a group of beautiful girls "chicks," and that's like, a bad thing. That's not something you should do.

C: Like a catcalling thing?

G: Yeah, it's a catcalling thing. So, "oy, chicks!" Like that. It's not good. So every time Dean says chick, I do flinch a little bit because of the way it is used in my culture. So...

C: I don't think it's necessarily as bad in America, but like it's definitely-

G: It's something.

C: -definitely a little bit condescending.

G: They have the no chick-flicks moment-

C: Right. Also- why is Sam apologizing? I think Sam did nothing wrong, I think Sam said things that were completely correct, and then Dean freaked out on him. Why is Sam apologizing?

G: Well, because- okay, to put myself in Sam's perspective, he did insult their mother. Like, he was like- And that's a sensitive topic for Dean.

C: I guess. But he said she wasn't coming back, which is a true statement.

G: Yeah, that's true. Yeah.

C: Like, he wasn't like, "that Mom chick, what a bitch!" Like- he just said she's not coming back, even if we get this revenge, which I think is a fair point.

G: But, you know, it's a sweet moment, and it's referenced in the show, you know, again.

C: Right, everyone's really a big fan of the line "no chick-flick moments." Oh, is this Dean misogyny moments tally number 4?

G: Why? Is it because he said chick-flick? I think chick-flick is fine. Or is it because he says "jerk" and "bitch"?

C: Can we combine "no chick-flick moments" and "bitch" and also when he calls the men who were killed by the woman in white "you sly dogs"- can we combine that into one misogyny tally? Like they're all kind of small, but can I combine that into one?

G: Yes. I approve of this combination.

C: Alright. Dean misogyny tally number 4.

-

G: So Dean finishes up showering and then he goes out to buy food, and it's morning. I don't know how the time works; was it midnight when they went out to the bridge? So like, it's morning now?

C: Yeah, maybe. Did they get to sleep? I hope they got to sleep a bit, but I don't think they did.

G: Probably not. We know Sam and Dean.

C: Oh, and we also see that John had a picture of him with Sam and Dean in the room-

G: Yeah. Sam finds it.

C: Which is quite sweet honestly-

G: Yeah, it is quite sweet.

C: But it's probably also quite sad for Sam to see, given that his dad kicked him out and hasn't spoken to him in four years.

G: [laughing] Yeah. So, Dean has his iconic putting on the jacket- the leather jacket moment, that he steals off his dad's room.

C: Right. Transmasc AF.

G: And he, you know, work work fashion baby. He looks good! And then he gets caught by the police. And he tells Sam to go.

C: And then the iconic "my boobs" line.

G: Yeah. "My boobs." "You got anything that's real?" "My boobs." Which is, you know.

C: Yeah, trans Dean moments. But also, [laughing] Dean misogyny tally number 5?

G: Hm... Ehhh...

C: No, I won't. I won't.

G: Yeah, it's. He's, you know. He's got boobs!

C: Yeah, you're right, you're right.

G: He is- This is like AMV fodder. Like if you make a Dean AMV, you put this scene. And I support that.

Anyway, so we find Dean in the police office. He's being interviewed. And then he says a bunch of words that mean nothing to me. He says, well first, I'm assuming that Nugent is a reference?

C: Um, I don't know, but-

G: Well, we'll never know.

C: Yeah, I mean, doesn't he take a lot of- Okay, so I'm looking it up, and Ted Nugent is a hard rock guitarist, so yeah, I think it's just Dean's thing of taking names off of music artists.

G: Yeah. And then he- the police says, "You're in trouble," and Dean's says, "Misdemeanor kind of trouble, or squeal like a pig kind of trouble?" And I'm like, what do those words mean?

C: I- okay, so a misdemeanor is just like- it's below a felony in terms of crimes-

G: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

C: So I know- "Squeal like a pig"... Right, at first I was like, "Is this sexual?" or like, maybe he just means "you will be slaughtered" kind of trouble, like a pig squealing before it's slaughtered. I'm not really sure.

G: I thought it was like a song reference or something, but I guess it's not. He's just saying shit at this point.

C: I think this is just Dean saying shit.

G: And then we see, for the first time, John's journal, which will haunt this show for eternity. This journal will be here for the rest of time. Something I noticed was, when it pans to the journal, and it pans to the coordinates, you see the grain of the film, and it reminded me that this was shot in film.

C: Right.

G: And I was like, yeah, it's good. It's a good choice to shoot. Especially because of the vibe of season 1 to 3. I think it really amplifies that vibe. So I commend that.

C: Definitely. It attempts to be a gritty show, and by using gritty film, that helps.

-

G: So Sam on the other hand is out there interviewing Mr. Welch.

C: Being the worst fake reporter in the world.

G: Yeah. He's saying that John and him are partners, and he's fact-checking- oh my god, king of fact-checking! [both laugh] Dean has the paperclip escape, after Sam fakes a 911 call. And in my notes I wrote, "Dean is soo pretty, he is so handsome, so charming." And he is. Like in this scene, he looks so good.

C: Sorry, I just think his hair looks too stupid in this episode for me to be attracted to him. His hair is so spiky.

G: Well, he's having a moment. He's having a hot boy moment. [both laugh] He escapes, and he calls Sam, and they figure out that Dad has already left Jericho- why am I calling John “dad”? [laughter]

C: Dean and Samcoded.

G: John already left Jericho. And then, Sam is like, "What's going on?" and then he almost- well, he hits the ghost, but it's a ghost, so he doesn't hit it. And then the ghost appears on his backseat, right? And then is like, "Take me home" or whatever. And Sam is like, "You're scared to go home!" And so he drives her to the house. And then-

C: Yeah, but, well first, she forces herself on him.

G: Well, no. He drives her to the front of the house, and then she, like, assaults him. Because to make Sam vulnerable to her, he needs to be unfaithful.

C: -unfaithful, and apparently, sexual assault is equivalent to cheating.

G: Yeah, well, you know, it's a ghost. It's an evil ghost. It goes to Hell afterwards, so, you know.

C: Right, yeah, her morals are not pleasant.

G: Dean shoots at the woman in white. Sam drives the woman into the house.

C: Yeah. He crashes the Impala into the house.

G: Yeah. Which is such a moment. It was good.

C: Yeah, how badly-made is this- are cars really that strong?

G: It's wood, right?

C: Yeah, I guess. So I guess cars are that strong.

G: I don't know. But like, he was kind of fazed afterwards. Dean was like, "Are you alright?" 'cause, yeah. And then-

C: The ghosts of the kids show up.

G: The ghosts of the kids of Constance shows up and then sends all of them-

C: Going "Why did you kill us, Mommy?" or something.

G: No, I think they just say "Mommy, you're home!"

C: Oh, and somehow they all die via group hug?

G: They die via group hug, in a scene that looks like they're all being sucked in by the Empty?

C: Yeah. No, I remember writing down "the CGI here is not great."

G: Yeah. And then, 15 years later, they will use the same CGI to get Cas into the Empty, so, you know.

-

G: We get "Highway to Hell" again- well, no. That's later.

C: We get ACDC again when they start driving back, and it is "Highway to Hell," which is a new song.

G: But like, Dean says like, "If you damage my car, I'll kill you," which is, you know, classic Dean moment. And then they do that "Highway to Hell." Dean's like, the scene that we talked about earlier, that he was like, "Oh, are you going? Are you going?" And Sam's like, "Yeah." And Dean's like, "Okay." And they do the classic buddy cop comedy scene where Dean goes, "We make a good team" and Sam's like, "yeah," and then just walks away.

C: So Sam comes in, he's looking for Jess, there's a note on the table over some cookies, like "I miss you, I love you." He's like, "Yay! Great! Time to eat some cookies and leave crumbs all over my bed while my girlfriend's in the shower, and afterwards we'll have hot return sex before my interview!" But then blood starts dripping on his face, and he looks up, and there's Jess.

G: Jess is on the ceiling!

C: Stabbed in the stomach on the ceiling, just like Mary. And then she bursts into flames. He screams. And then Dean runs in and he drags Sam out while he's screaming and trying to get to Jess, I guess sorta like a parallel of Dean taking Sam out of the fire when they were little-

G: Yes.

C: And then they're outside and Sam's like "Well, there goes my hopes at a normal life. Goodbye, Stanford Law School. Time for guns. We've got work to do."

G: Yes. "We've got work to do"! My question is, what are they doing with a carload of guns and weapons in a crime scene? Like, it's just open!

C: Right! I was like, it's just open, and there are like, firefighters and police right over there.

G: Literally you can see the sirens. The sirens are in the background, you know.

C: Yeah, like, my dudes. My dudes.

G: They were having a moment. And they needed the "we've got work to do" because it is an iconic scene.

C: Yeah, and the whole trunk closing shot is also iconic.

-

G: So that's the end of the episode! So, what did you think about this episode?

C: Um, I thought for a pilot it was pretty good, it established the family relationship pretty well. I mean, I thought the hunt was kind of boring and also I'm aware they "adapted" the monster of the week from... Mexican folklore? was it? and probably botched it a lot, but I liked the cinematography, I liked the shadows...

G: Yeah, the shadows were amazing.

C: Yeah. And I feel like it set us up for a good season where I know what's going to be happening, it's going to be monster of the week while they try to find John and more brother moments. So yeah, I feel like it was a decent episode.

G: So, we have this segment called "Guess the IMDB Rating," and I already looked at the IMDB before this because I was trying to figure out what we're going to do the segment about. So I know the IMDB rating of the pilot, but just the pilot, I don't know anything else about the other episodes. So, for this episode, I'm just going to ask you, what do you think is the IMDB rating of this episode?

C: Okay, so, well, the pilot is gonna be the most widely-watched and most widely-rated episode, which I guess makes it a bit fuzzy. I think it was decent, and I feel like people who are very into the show would go and rate it as a nostalgia thing, so maybe like a 8.7?

G: You got it like, right. Did you look?

C: No, I didn't! Is it literally an 8.7?

G: It's literally 8.7, yes.

C: Oh my god! Good for me!

G: You're very good, yeah! I would have guessed a little bit lower. Like maybe an 8.5. 'cause like, I guess I've just watched it so many times already, it just doesn't have any impact on me anymore 'cause I've just literally watched it so many times already.

C: Right. Yeah.

G: So, I'm like, eh, it's an episode!

C: Right. Those lines that I already know sure do line!

G: Yeah. So like, yeah! That's it for this episode of [both laughing] Busty Asian Beauties.

C: No Asians in this episode.

G: Yes, no Asians in the episode.

-

G: So next week, we're going to be doing season 1 episode 2, [together] redacted.

C: So- I don't know- subscribe?

G: No! It's follow, I think.

C: Follow? Follow. Follow us.

G: Yes, follow us on social media and on your podcast whatever, and then, yeah! Send us asks, whatever.

C: Recommend us to your friends 'cause we're very interesting to listen to and everyone loves us.

G: Yes. We did not just alienate all our Dean audiences.

C: Right. Um, I love- I love Dean, he's super totally hot and his eyes are pretty- what- what do Deangirls like about him?

G: I don't know.

C: He's serving absolute mother figure? Is that something they like?

G: He's serving absolute eldest daughter? Like, that's what they say, right?

C: Yeah! Serving absolute eldest daughter syndrome, he is also bisexual, and-

G: I mean, he is, so-

C: Well, he is, yes.

G: Good for him.

C: And also a- a babygirl?

G: Yeah.

C: There we go.

G: Yeah. We- we love Sam, we love Dean, we love Cas, you know. We will cater to your interests.

C: Yes.

G: Okay, that's it!

C: Oh, and you can email us?

G: You can email us.

C: At bustyasianbeautiespod@gmail.com.

G: Yeah. That's it!

C: Have a nice night or morning or day, guys.

G: Have a nice day, guys. Bye-bye!

[guitar music]