#so I will simply listen to a different podcast instead :)
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Don't Play Games (my heart is too fragile)


Pairing: Streamer!Seungcheol x Reader
Genre: Fluff, smut !MDNI!, s2f2l (kinda)
Tags: Fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, smut, Streamer!AU, former college classmate!Seungcheol, very short period of angst, slow burn
WC: 21k
Summary: Getting addicted to watching hot men play video games was definitely not on your year's bingo card. Getting addicted to watching Choi Seungcheol of all people? The idea would have been laughable.
Warnings: Smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (theyâre dumb, you shouldnât be: wrap it before you tap it), pet names (princess), bigdick!Seungcheol, praise, some angst, lmk if I missed anything
taglist: @christinewithluv @cherry-zip @orngejuic @duckieo
The first time you stumbled upon Seungcheol's stream, it was an accident, a shocking one at that. It was just another boring day at work, your normal podcasts weren't doing it for you- listening about murders while writing a report on "harassment" between two employees who were simply arguing gave you some ideas that would not be very HR Manager of you- so you instead decide to go on twitch, your coworker had once told you it was perfect background noise.
You clicked on the first stream in the gaming category: Val w/coups by 'everyone_woo'. The stream had opened and the face of your old college classmate filled your screen and you nearly got whiplash from the double take you did.
Apparently the aforementioned "Coups" was the former infamous president of Chi Beta Zeta, Choi Seungcheol. It makes sense, you suppose- that they'd be friends- having been in the same frat, but the idea of shy Wonwoo from Engineering and not-so-shy Seungcheol, your fellow Communications major, was a little off-putting. That is, until you remember the other thing they had in common along with the rest of CBZ: sex.
Rumors constantly circulated: who Seungcheol brought upstairs at the last party, what girl Wonwoo was seen dragging into the supply closet near the library; although you were never a part of the rumors they spread like wildfire.
You shoved those thoughts aside as you finished the report, and when the rest of the day went by quicker than normal, you reminded yourself to thank Jeonghan later.
(And you definitely maybe went home and looked up "S.coups" on your computer before deciding his gravelly voice would be your new favorite white noise machine.)
Soon enough listening to him had become a habit; you were working? He was raging over a new fps he was trying; you were cleaning the house? He and Wonwoo were trying a new game pre-release.Â
â
On Wednesdays you, Minghao, and Jeonghan have a tradition: the three of you meet at a whole-in-the-wall cafe to gossip catch up with each other outside of work-talk. It started back in college, an agreement to always meet in the middle of the week for a break from everythingâstress, assignments, life. Even now, years later, with jobs and responsibilities pulling you in different directions, Wednesdays remained sacred.
Today the three of you find yourselves in the same dimly lit restaurant youâve all sworn by for years. Itâs not anything fancy, but its quiet, comfortable, and, most importantly, they have a bartender who never questions the amount of time you all spend loitering at a table long after the food is gone.
Minghao is already there when you arrive, scrolling through his phone with the slight air of disinterest he always carried. Jeonghan shows up moments later, his usual carefree smile in place as he slid into the seat across from you.
âYouâre late,â you tease, setting down your bag.
Jeonghan waves a hand dismissively. âTraffic.â
Minghao snorts, locking his phone. âWe chose this place because itâs closer to your office so you can walk here.â
âExactly,â Jeonghan says, grinning. âToo many people in my way.â
You roll your eyes but let it slide, already used to his antics. The three of you order your usuals, conversation flowing easily between catching up on work drama and not-work drama. Itâs comfortable, familiar.
Then, as if on cue, Jeonghanâs eyes gleam with mischief, and you know what is coming before he even opens his mouth. âSo,â he starts, resting his chin on his hand, âhowâs our favorite Twitch streamer?â
You groan. âWeâre not doing this.â
âOh, we absolutely are,â Jeonghan counters. âMinghao, did you know our dear friend here has been religiously listening to Choi Seungcheol rage at video games?â
Minghao raises a brow, intrigued. âSeungcheol? That Seungcheol?â
You huff, sinking into your seat. âItâs just background noise. I put it on while I work.â
Jeonghanâs smirk widens at your dismissal. âSure. Background noise. Because out of all the streams in the world, you just happened to choose your old college classmateâs?â
Minghao, ever observant, takes a sip of his drink before adding, âYou know, he mentioned you a couple times.â
You blink. âWhat?â
Jeonghan nods enthusiastically. âOh yeah. Back in CBZ, there was a few months where all he could talk about was you. He thought you were cute and would get really annoyed when you brushed him off. It was super funny seeing him finally get rejected, even if it was just because you were too oblivious to notice him flirting with you.â
âDense,â Minghao supplies. âThat was the word he used.â
You roll your eyes at them, âI wasnât dense or oblivious, I donât even remember talking to him for more than ten seconds. I was too focused on trying to graduate, plus he wasnât my type.â
âSuuuuuure.â Jeonghan leers, âThatâs why you listen to his voice on a daily basis now. Regret some things?â
You donât roll your eyes at him, focusing intently on your drink as you swirl the liquid in your glass. âWhatever, I just thought it was more interesting to listen to someone I kind of knew instead of some random person.â
Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look that makes it clear this conversation is far from over, but, mercifully, they let it goâfor now.
â
A week later they grill you about Seungcheol one more time before finally deciding to let it go, thinking finally you can live in peace.Â
Thatâs why youâre almost having a heart attack as you exit the elevator to see the very man of your dreams standing outside the apartment adjacent to yours, moving boxes in hand. Frozen, you stand there gawking looking at him. As if he can feel your gaze, Seungcheol looks over at you and raises an eyebrow in question, looking borderline nervous and irritated. It broke whatever trance you were in as you introduced yourself (trying your best not to stutter) as a former classmate. He visibly relaxed at that while his eyes lit up in recognition.
âProfessor Hanâs class, right? We had a study group together one time.â You nod, thinking back to how girls had glared at you during class for daring to be randomly grouped with Seungcheol. The session had gone by quickly, slipping your mind until now.
âUh, yeah, for midterms practice I think. Iâm surprised you remember.â Your response has a smile pulling at the corners of his (annoyingly perfect) lips.
âHard to forget such a pretty face.â
His words cause your eyes to roll, some things never change you suppose. You hum in response, âExcept when I first came up here and you looked like I had insulted your entire bloodline or something.âÂ
Seungcheolâs smile, you decide, is your favorite sight. His eyes crinkle at the sides, the cutest dimples form on his cheeks when his lips curl upwards, a chuckle escaping them. âSorry, I just thought- it doesnât matter. It was really good seeing you again though.â A matching smile on your face, you offer to help him with any boxes but he only shakes his head.
âI was taught to never let a lady carry her own things, carrying mine? Unheard of. Although if you want to cheer me on I wouldnât mind seeing your face more.â He winks and you just shake your head, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks. You respond with something about outdated views before excusing yourself to the safety of your apartment, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart.
â
Over the next few weeks, the two bump into each other frequently; exiting your apartments, entering the complex; each time briefly chatting before going your separate ways. Some nights you would get a notification about a stream, only to hear him talking through your bedroom wall. Part of you felt bad watching him play, guilt gnawing away at your thoughts and distracting you.Â
Itâs fine you tell yourself as you write the marketing teamâs monthly performance report.
Itâs fine you delude yourself as you hand said report to your deskmate, Minghao, to review.
Itâs fi-shit you finally are snapped out of your denial when Minghao hands your report back covered in red pen marks and shame. He says your name with concern lacing his voice, âHave you been doing okay? You seem kind of⊠off and Iâve never seen this kind of work from you before.âÂ
You shake your head, burying your face in your hands, âSorry Hao, itâs nothing I canât handle.âÂ
He just tilts his head and tells you that, if you ever need to talk, heâs here. That was the downside of working with your best friendâ you could never hide anything from him. Normally youâd take him up on the offer- tell him your woes and such- if it wasnât so goddamn embarrassing. You brush him off before taking a deep breath and steel yourself as you weigh your options. You could either tell Seungcheol that you watch his streams or stop watching them altogether, and you sure as hell wouldnât be inflating his ego anymore (at least thatâs the reason you tell yourself, itâs definitely not that you donât want him to feel uncomfortable around you).
The rest of the day goes by at a torturing pace, no commentary in the background to make time fly quicker. By the time you get on the bus, youâre half-asleep, and then youâre full asleep, head lulled to the side, bouncing uncomfortably on the window, not that you notice.Â
â..am? Maâam this is the last stop. You need to get off now.â The driver of the bus stands in front of you while you rub the sleep out of your eyes and look around. Taking note of the darkness outside the window and unfamiliar street, you sigh and lean your head against the window again, flinching at your slightly bruised head.Â
Could this day get any fucking better.
You apologize to the driver, who just looks at you with pity, and get off the bus, gauging your surroundings and sighing, breath fogging in front of you. Your bus stop is one of the last ones, meaning after a second you realize where you are and groan, pulling out your phone to call a car. Except of-fucking-course your phone is dead. Itâs late, the watch on your wrist reading 11:56 (thank god at least something of yours is working) and look around one more time, hoping a taxi would drive by and save you from the cold night. Shoulders slumped in resignation, you start walking towards your apartment, itâs only a few blocks away, a maybe twenty minute walk, as long as your notoriously shitty sense of direction screws you over, which it does. By the time you reach your building youâre shivering, nose and fingers red as you reach into your bag for your keys.Â
Keys.
Keys.
Keys that you remember setting on your desk at work but donât remember picking up. You want to scream. And cry. Mostly cry, if youâre gonna be honest because now your shitty day turned into an even shittier night. Morning, you realize as your watch now reads 12:34. A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you slump down next to the apartment complexâs glass door that seems to taunt you, as if it's rubbing in your face how close relief is and how unreachable.Â
You feel your throat start to tighten and tears begin to well in your eyes.
âY/n?âÂ
You think youâre starting to go insane from the cold until a warm hand lands on your shoulder, a shadow crouching in front of you. Looking up hesitantly, you come face to face with your new neighbor, plastic bag in hand from what you assume to be a late-night snack run. The tears in your eyes start to fall as you begin to sob, if you were in your right mind this would be the most embarrassing moment of your life, but right now youâre cold and hungry and scared and this man appeared like an angel sent from heaven just to help you.
âOh my god, youâre freezing. What are you even- nevermind that come on.â Seungcheolâs arms wrap around you as he helps you up, getting into the building with his keys and walking with you to the elevator. When it starts to ascend, Seungcheol sets his bag on the ground and takes his jacket off, wrapping it around you. You donât even have the strength to argue with him, all of it spent on the tears that now slowed to a stop as you look down at your feet, shame starting to kick in. You donât want to imagine the look on his face right now, knowing itâll be the same pitying glances youâve received all day.Â
The elevator dings as it arrives on the correct floor. Your feet start moving, muscle memory kicking in until youâre at your door, realizing you still donât have your keys. When an arm once again wraps around you, you donât even protest, allowing Seungcheol to guide you into his apartment, where he sets blankets and pillows on his couch. When you move to lay on it, he stops you.
âWhat are you doing? Iâm sleeping on the couch, you can take my bed.â The words seemingly bring you out of the numb trance-like state youâd been in ever since you stopped crying.Â
âI- what?! No, oh my god Seungcheol no, I couldnât- I mean youâre already doing so much for me and-â A warm hand cups touches your forehead, promptly cutting off your rambling as your frantic eyes meet Seungcheolâs warm gaze. Fuck he shouldnât look at you like that.Â
âNo offense Y/n but you look like youâre on the verge of hypothermia, you need the bed more than I do.â His hand moves from your cheek to pat the top of your head as you huff, letting Seungcheol guide you to his room where. You canât help but feel guilty as you watch him rummage through his closet before emerging with a victorious smile and a large T-shirt.Â
âWear this- before you argue,â He cuts off your protests before they can even start, âthink of it as me not wanting dirty clothes on my bed and, as much as I would love to see it, you are way too cold to be sleeping in panties tonight.âÂ
Your face flushes as you grab the shirt he holds out to you, avoiding his gaze. âThank you Seungcheol. Really. Iâm sorry that you have to do this, but I really do appreciate it.â Glancing up at him, you watch as his teasing smirk melts into something different, softer.
âDonât apologize. Iâll always be here if you need help with something, what are neighbors for?â walking towards the door, Seungcheol looks back at you one more time, âI normally wouldnât let you sleep without at least having a warm bath to stop a cold, but I think youâd pass out in the shower if I tried. Get a good nightâs rest, yeah? Iâll see you in the morning.â And even after he leaves the room, his warmth stays, the soft gaze heâd given you burned into your eyelids as you drift to sleep.
â
The scent of coffee and bacon wakes you from deep sleep. For a second, you're disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings causing a brief panic before switching to embarrassment as memories of last night flood back. You're in Seungcheol's bed, wrapped in his sheets that smell faintly of pinewood and something uniquely him.
Sunlight streams through gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across the room. You stretch away the ache in your muscles from the cold and stress of yesterday, tugging the oversized shirt Seungcheol lent you down as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.
Your bare feet hit cool hardwood, as you shuffle towards the bedroom door, following the enticing smell of breakfast. In the kitchen, Seungcheol stands at the stove, his broad back to you.
As you approach, Seungcheol turns, spatula in hand, and flashes you a heart-stopping smile. "Morning. How are you feeling?"
You run a hand through your sleep-mussed hair, suddenly self-conscious. "Better, thanks to you. I can't believe that happened."
"Hey, donât worry about it," he chuckles. "I figured you could use the rest. Coffee?"
You nod gratefully while he pours you a steaming mug. Seungcheol plates up eggs, bacon, and toast. The domesticity of the scene isn't lost to you - here you are, in his clothes, sharing breakfast in his kitchen. It feels dangerously intimate.
"Thanks," you murmur, accepting the plate he hands you. "You really didn't have to do all this."
Seungcheol waves off your gratitude as he settles across from you at the small kitchen table. "It's no trouble. Besides, I couldn't let you face the day on an empty stomach after last night."
You take a bite of the perfectly crispy bacon, trying not to moan at how good it tastes. As you eat in companionable silence, you can't help but sneak glances at Seungcheol. His hair is slightly mussed from sleep, a slight sleepy haze in his eyes. He looks softer like this, less like the polished streamer and more like the boy youâd seen in college.
"So," he says after a while, setting down his mug. "Want to tell me what happened last night?"
You hesitate, your fork hovering over your plate. What were you supposed to say? That you had been thinking of him non-stop for the last 24 hours? That you were a mess whose sense of direction was almost as bad as your work-life balance? That you'd been caught in what was arguably one of your worst moments, by none other than the main cause of your original turmoil?
He seems to sense your internal conflict because he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone softens, playful but not prying. "You donât have to, y'know. I just figured you might want to talk about it. Seems like you had a long day, I wonât judge."
You sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion creep back in. "Itâs not even that interesting," you start, avoiding his eyes. " It was just... one thing after another. Fell asleep on the bus, couldât call a taxi causâ my phone died, forgot my keys at work; Honestly, the world was conspiring against me the whole day, I swear."
Seungcheol hums thoughtfully, swirling the last of his coffee in his mug. "Sounds rough. No one likes walking around in the freezing cold with no way to get inside. It was a good thing I went out when I did, maybe itâs a sign I should take more midnight snack runs."
You laugh softly and promptly ignore the stuttering of your heart, "Hopefully it wonât happen again," you admit. "And⊠either way itâs not exactly something I want to bother you with."
He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "You werenât a bother at all. Besides, I think helping you out is the bare minimum of what neighbors should do, donât you?"
Neighbor. The word feels heavier than it should, heâs right; all you are to him is a neighbor, nothing more nothing less. You try to play off the feeling of your heart dropping into your shoes, shaking your head with a small laugh. "I have to admit, Iâd never have guessed you were the knight-in-shining-armour type. At-night-in-UnderArmour maybe, but this is unexpected"
Seungcheol grins, his dimples flashing. "Hey now, donât let the frat guy rep fool you. Iâve always been nice."
You laugh at that, the tension in your chest loosening. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
As he rinses the dishes, you take a moment to look around his apartment. Itâs cozy, a mix of modern furniture and personal touchesâa stack of books on the coffee table, a framed photo of what looks like his old frat brothers on a shelf, and a ridiculous number of gaming peripherals on his desk. It suits him, you think, the same way his easy smile and annoyingly perfect hair suit him.
"So," Seungcheol says, drying his hands before turning to face you. "Any plans today? Or are you planning to crash and catch up on sleep?"
"Work," you groan, already dreading the thought of going back to the office. "I have to deal with a report I butchered yesterday."
"Rough," he says, leaning against the counter. "Tell you whatâafter work, if youâre up for it, Iâll make dinner. Consider it part two of my neighborly duties."
The offer catches you off guard, but you manage to nod despite the sudden flutter in your stomach. "You donât have to keep feeding me, you know."
Seungcheol just shrugs, a teasing glint in his eye. "I know. But I want to. Plus, you owe me. You cried on my shirt last night, remember?"
Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face as you groan. "I did notâ!"
"You totally did," he interrupts with a laugh, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. "Itâs okay, though. Itâs a good story."
"Youâd better not go spreading this around mister." you say, pointing a warning finger at him. But the smile tugging at your lips betrays you, and Seungcheol just grins wider.
"Hmm I make no promises madam."
As you gather your things and prepare to face the day, Seungcheolâs warm gaze and easy laughter lingers in your mind, making you feel giddy and guilty at the same time. And as you step out of his apartment, you realize youâre already looking forward to the evening.
â
The day drags on slower than youâd like, each hour feeling like an eternity between the mountain of emails, the endless meetings, and the painstakingly slow process of fixing your stupid report.
By the time you get back to your apartment (with your keys this time, thank god), exhaustion is settled deep in your bones. You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes, barely making it to the couch before collapsing in a heap. The thought of getting up, even to change out of your work clothes, feels like an impossible task.
A soft knock at your door jolts you out of your half-asleep state. For a split second, you consider ignoring it, but then you remember Seungcheolâs offer(demand?) from this morning. With a groan, you drag yourself up and shuffle to the door, opening it to find him standing there, a grin on his face and a grocery bag in hand.
"Thought you might be too tired to make it over," he says, holding up the bag. "So, I figured Iâd bring the dinner to you."
You blink at him, caught off guard. "You⊠didnât have to do that," you mumble, though the smell wafting from the bag has your stomach growling in protest.
He laughs, brushing past you into the apartment. "I know. But you seemed like you had a long day, and I wasnât about to let you skip a proper meal. Plus, Iâm not sure I trust you to make anything edible in your state."
"Hey!" you protest, following him into the kitchen. "Iâm perfectly capable of cooking, thank you very much."
He raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning your kitchen clearly unconvinced. "Sure you are. When was the last time you had something that wasnât instant ramen or takeout?"
You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your tongue because⊠well, the empty takeout boxes in your kitchen speak enough. Instead, you cross your arms and huff. "Fine. You win. But only because Iâm too tired to argue."
"Glad weâre on the same page," he says, already unpacking the bag and setting up in your kitchen like he owns the place. You watch as he moves with practiced ease, pulling out ingredients and utensils like heâs done this a million times before.
Itâs oddly comforting, watching him work. The kitchen feels warmer, cozier, with him in it. You find yourself leaning against the counter, a small smile tugging at your lips as he chats about his dayâabout how his coworker accidentally sent an email to the entire company, or how he nearly slipped on ice outside his building.
Before you know it, the smell of something delicious fills the air, and your stomach growls loudly, earning a laugh from Seungcheol.
"I guess youâre hungry," he teases, sliding a plate in front of you.Â
You roll your eyes but canât hide your grin as you pick up your fork. "If this is bad, Iâm never letting you live it down."
He smirks, leaning against the counter as he watches you take your first bite. The flavors hit your tongue, and you canât help the satisfied hum that escapes you.
"Okay, fine," you admit, reluctantly. "This is⊠not bad."
"Sure, not bad. Dare you say good?" he says, his grin widening. "Youâre welcome, by the way."
The two of you eat together, the conversation flowing easily. Itâs light and playful, with just the right amount of teasing to keep you on your toes. By the time the plates are empty, you realize youâre smiling more than you have in days.
As he helps you clean up, you find yourself glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Thereâs something about the way he moves, the way he laughs, that makes your chest feel a little too tight and your thoughts a little too scattered.
"Thanks for this," you say softly as he dries the last plate. "I really needed it."
He looks at you, his expression softening. "Anytime," he says simply. "Thatâs what neighbors are for, right?"
Neighbor. There it is again, that word. But this time, it doesnât feel as heavy. Because maybe, just maybe, itâs not about what you are to each other now, but about what you could be.
â
A few days pass in a blurry haze. Seungcheolâs number was now saved in your phone, his occasional texts making you more giddy than youâd like to admit. The two of you occasionally see each other in the hallway, tonight he knocks on your door with food in hand, claiming he made too much and offering you some. You invite him in to share the meal (youâre just being a good neighbor), laughing and joking around as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And honestly, it kind of was.Â
Seungcheol insists on brewing you a cup of tea before he leaves, claiming itâs the perfect way to wind down after a long day. You let him, mostly because youâre too tired to argue but also because, well⊠It's nice having him here.
He chats while the kettle heats up, leaning casually against the counter like he belongs in your kitchen. The way he speaks, the rhythm of his voice, fills the quiet space in a way that feels naturalâlike heâs not just filling silence but adding something to it.
When he hands you the steaming mug, his fingers brush yours briefly, and you try not to overthink the spark of warmth that lingers long after he pulls away.
"So, any big plans tomorrow?" he asks, settling into a chair at your kitchen table. It feels oddly domestic, like this is something the two of you do all the time. You shake your head, cradling the mug in your hands. "Just work. Again. Though Iâm praying for fewer disasters this time."
He chuckles, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you. "Sounds like you could use a break. Maybe take the weekend off, do something fun."
You snort softly. âLike what, go clubbing or something? Not really my vibe."
"Doesnât have to be that extreme," he says, grinning. "It could be something simple. A walk in the park, binge-watching a terrible reality show, or trying out that cafĂ© down the street you keep mentioning but never go to."
You raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you suggesting I take myself on a date?"
"Hey, self-care is important," he says with a shrug, though the teasing glint in his eye suggests heâs enjoying himself. "But if you need a plus-one, I might be available."
The words hang in the air for a moment, and youâre not entirely sure how to respond. Is he joking? Probably. But thereâs a softness in his expression that makes you wonder if thereâs more to it than that.
"Iâll think about it," you say finally, trying to sound casual. "But donât get your hopes up, Cheol. Iâm not easy to impress."
He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "So itâs Cheol now, huh? Donât apologize- I like it." he once again practically reads your thoughts, âAnd here, once youâre done thinking, let me know, yeah? Or in case you get locked out again.â Seungcheol slides over his phone with a new contact open as you roll your eyes, typing your number in anyways.
Itâs late by the time he finally leaves, the mug you used now washed and drying on the counter. As you close the door behind him, your apartment feels quieter than it did before. Not in a bad wayâ the kind of quiet that lets you think. You find yourself replaying the evening in your head: his laugh, the way he somehow managed to turn your chaotic kitchen into a space that felt warm and inviting, the way his gaze didnât leave you once when the two of you talked.
Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus on getting ready for bed. Itâs nothing, you tell yourself. Heâs probably just trying to make some new friends in the neighborhood.
But as you crawl under the covers, your mind drifts back to his earlier word, "If you need a plus-one, I might be available." The thought lingers, a soft thread of warmth that wraps around your chest as you grab your phone, typing a message before you can change your mind. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you close your eyes and press send.
You: So how about that date?
The text felt heavier as the three little dots that blink back at you in reply. You hold your breath, heartbeat thudding in your ears.
When his text pops up on your phone, a shy smile automatically spreads across your face as you read it.
Seungcheol: How about Saturday?
Seungcheol: Iâll plan itâjust be ready by 10.
The squeal you let out could rival one of a teenage girl on her first date as you kick your feet giddily in bed. Fuck, you were already down so bad. When you hear a chuckle through the wall your phone drops to the floor with a thud as it buzzes again..
Seungcheol: Careful, I might start to hope youâre looking forward to seeing me
This arrogant correct motherfucker. Your fingers type a quick response, trying to save whatever dignity you have left.
You: Saw a spider
You: Anyways where should I meet you?
His response makes your eyes roll with endearment annoyance.
Seungcheol: I think your memories are getting mixed up, spider was what everyone called Hoshi, not me. And no spoilers, just dress comfortably.
â
Two days later, Saturday morning rolls around, and youâre standing in front of your mirror, staring at your outfit for the third time. He said casual, so why are you frantically searching for the perfect attire?Â
Itâs fine, you think, not over the top. He doesnât know what your closet looks like anyways, for all he knows you always wear this kind of clothes.
Your cozy beige sweater is paired with jeans and ankle boots, casual but still nice. Your makeup is light, natural.Â
A knock on your door makes your heart jolt. Grabbing your bag, you take a steadying breath before opening it.
Seungcheol stands there, hands casually tucked in his jacket pocket, a grin already spreading across his face. His eyes flick up and down your body once, twice, hitching in some areas before finally settling on your eyes.
âYou-â He clears his throat, âYou look really good.â His eyes flick away from yours briefly, you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of too good but it must be your imagination, flustered by how the man in front of you seems almost shy.
âThanks,â you reply, giving him a similar once over to the one heâd subjected you to earlier.Â
Black cargo pants with a dark denim jacket (that somehow looks warm) over a white graphic T. The outfit might look sloppy on someone else, but Seungcheol makes it look like he should be on a runway, the clothes draping over him perfectly as though everything was custom-made for him.Â
âYou donât look half bad yourself.â
âYou really are hard to impress huh?â he teases. âLucky for you Iâm always happy to deliver. Ready to go?â
The two of you walk to the parking outside as you chat, getting into his annoyingly nice car. You canât help but wonder where heâs taking you as the roads out the window blur. No matter how hard you try to pry the information out of him, he doesnât budge. A lesson in patience, he tells you. When the car finally stops, you look around, surprisedâ an amusement park.
âSeriously?â you ask, poorly trying to hide your smile as you stare at him.
âWhat? Too childish for you princess?â he says with a sly grin. You just hum in faux indignation, giving up on any attempt at hiding your smile.
The park is alive with bright lights, lively music; the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes wafting through the chilly air. You wander through the attractions, playing a few games and riding the tamer rides to start. At one of the stands, Seungcheol picks up two pairs of animal ears, holding them where you canât see.Â
âPick a side.â he states with a sparkle in his eyes, hands behind his back.
You roll your eyes at his antics and do as he asks.
âGood choice,â he said, handing you a pair of floppy bunny ears, putting the other set- wolf ears- on his own head. âHow do I look?â
You snort. âRidiculous.â
âCome on princess, I think yours suit you perfectly,â he teased, tugging gently on one of the ears now perched on your head. He drags you over to one of the photo-booths scattered around the park and pulls you inside as you laugh.
His arm is wrapped around you, who instinctively leans into his shoulder as the screen counts down. After some more silly shots, the last timer runs on the screen. The two of you are posing when you impulsively turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek as the flash goes off. Before you can try and see Seungcheols expression you quickly get out of the booth, crouching down to wait for the photos to print. A shadow surrounds you but you ignore it, grabbing the two photo stips and standing up, actively avoiding looking at the man behind you until you feel strong arms circle around your waist.
âDonât get shy on me now, princess.â Seungcheolâs voice is low and quiet, his breath tickling you neck. He gently turns you around in his arms, forcing you to face him. When you do, you canât help the giggle that escapes your lips.
His eyebrows raise, expression soft and questioning as you raise your hand to his cheek. âYouâve uh.. Got a little something on here.â Before you can wipe off the lipstick mark a hand grabbing your wrist stops you. Seungcheol just hums, the smile on his face growing as he responds. âLeave it there, I like it.â
You look away, flustered, âIt might stain.â
His smile only grows further as his hands squeeze your waist reassuringly, âEven better.â
A few more hours fly by in a blur of laughter, shared glances, and the occasional screaming as you ride a roller coaster. As the day winds down, Seungcheol leads you toward the Ferris wheel.
âEnding with a Ferris wheel ride at sunset huh?â you tease with a smirk. âClassic.â
He chuckles. âYouâre smiling, so I think itâs worth being cheesy.â
Your face flushes as you step into the car with him, the soft glow of the park lights casting everything in a dreamy haze. As the wheel lifts you higher, you take in the momentâsimple, sweet, and perfect.
The car sways gently as it begins to ascend, the world growing smaller beneath your feet. Seungcheol leans back in the seat across from you, his arm casually draped across the edge, as though the intimacy of the situation didnât seem to bother him at all. Meanwhile, your heart is racing, the memories of the day making it difficult to keep your composure as you keep your eyes trained on the park as it gets smaller and smaller.
âNice view,â the man across from you murmurs. When you sneak a glance at him, his eyes arenât on the horizonâtheyâre focused on you, his soft expression making your breath hitch.
You bite the inside of your cheek, turning to face the window again. âYeah, itâs beautiful,â you agree, your voice coming out shakier than intended. The warmth of the sunset casts a golden glow across the park below, lights beginning to twinkle as the day faded.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungcheol shift slightly closer. âYouâve been smiling all day,â he comments. âDo I get some credit for that, or was it just the funnel cakes?â
You laugh, turning back to meet his gaze. âOh definitely the funnel cake, But youâre decent company too, I guess.â
He grins, leaning forward just slightly. âDecent? Come on, you can do better than that.â
You raise a brow, trying to hold your ground despite how his closeness makes you feel like melting into the seat. âDonât push your luck.â
For a moment, thereâs nothing but the distant hum of the park and the creak of the Ferris wheel as it carries you higher. His expression softens, and he tilts his head slightly, as though weighing his next words carefully. âYou know,â he starts, his voice low, âI wasnât kidding when I said I hoped you were looking forward to seeing me.â
Your breath catches, and you search his face for any trace of teasing, but his expression is nothing but sincerity with a tinge of nervousness. âMaybe I was,â you admit quietly.
His smile widens, dimples returning with full force as the confidence that had momentarily wavered in his eyes returns. âIâm glad. Maybe I was hoping to see you too.â
The car comes to a stop at the top of the wheel, leaving the two of you suspended in the sky. The view is breathtaking, but all you can focus on is the way Seungcheolâs eyes shine, on the curve of his nose, where your lips are stamped on his cheek, how soft and welcoming his own lips look. His fingers brush your own and your heart is pounding so loudly youâre sure he can hear it.
âIs this okay?â he asks, his voice smooth and steady, as if sensing your hesitation.
You nod, your gaze flicking between his eyes and the hand now gently covering yours. âYeah. Just⊠you make me nervous.â As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to jump out of the ferris wheel.
He chuckles softly, the sound halting your thoughts. âDitto.â he remarks and you swear your heart stops as he leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. His face is inches from yours, the space between you charged with tension. You could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with your own, the weight of his presence grounding you and making your head spin all at once.
And then, as though the universe decided it hated you, the car jolts slightly, the Ferris wheel beginning its descent. The tension clears, and you both laugh as it dissolves into something softer and more familiar. When you both reach the ground, Seungcheol offers you a hand as you step out of the gondola, not letting go until the two of you reach his car.Â
Seungcheol opens the passenger door for you, his hand lingering on the frame as you step in. He waits until youâre settled, closing the door with a gentle thud before walking around to the driverâs side. As he slides into the seat, the soft click of the doors locking echoes in the quiet night.
The drive home is comfortable, the radio humming a mellow tune as the city lights streak past the windows. Neither of you speak much, but for once you donât mind the silence, itâs comfortable, as if the events of the day are still settling in your minds.Â
When the two of you finally arrive at your adjacent apartments, he turns to look at you.
âSo,â he begins, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt, âdid I live up to your standards of being âdecent companyâ?â
You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. âI guess you werenât terrible,â you reply, feigning nonchalance.
He chuckles, shaking his head as he leans against the wall. âIâll take it. Progress is progress.â
The silence that follows isnât awkwardâitâs heavy with the weight of the day, the laughter, the quiet moments, and the words that neither of you seems quite ready to say.
âWell,â you finally say, your hand moving to the door handle, âthanks for today. I really needed it.â
Seungcheol doesnât respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the photo strip from earlier at the amusement park. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours when you take it.
You glance down at the photosâthe silly poses, the bunny ears, the surprised look on his face as you kissed his cheekâand your chest tightens in the best way possible. âThanks,â you murmur, your voice almost lost in the stillness.
When you look back up, heâs watching you, his expression unreadable. He shifts, fingers lightly grazing yours.
âHey,â he says quietly, his voice steadier than you feel. âIf youâre up for it⊠we should do this again sometime.â
Your breath catches, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. âYeah,â you manage, your voice soft. âIâd like that too.â
His smile grows, and for a split second, you think he might lean in, but instead, he squeezes your hand gently before pulling back. âGet some rest.â he says, his tone light but his eyes lingering on yours.
As you open your door, the apartment inside feels emptier than normal. You pause, glancing back at Seungcheol.
âText me when youâre free,â he says, his grin now fully teasing. âOr, you know, just knock on the wall or something.â
You laugh, shaking your head as you softly close the door. Your heart races as you lean against it, the photo strip still clutched in your hand. You glance down at the images, your smile widening as you run your thumb over the glossy surface.
You were screwedâcompletely and utterly fuckedâbut for the first time in a long while, you didnât mind one bit.
â
Jeonghan is late again, youâd think heâd learn to use his time better on Wednesdays but some things never change, you suppose. You sit across from Hao, sipping on your coffee as he eyes you suspiciously.
âSo,â he begins, placing his tea on the table, his voice carrying that signature teasing lilt. âYou went on a date.â
You nearly choke, coughing into your hand as you set your drink down. âExcuse me? How do you know that?â
He just smirks, leaning back in his chair with an air of triumph. âI was just guessing but you just confirmed it.â
Your jaw drops at his audacity. âThatâs not fairâyou tricked me!â
âHardly,â he replies, stirring his tea with mock innocence. âYouâre just too easy to read. So was it good?â
Before you can fire back, a familiar voice cuts in, smooth and teasing. âWhatâs this about a date?â
You turn to see Jeonghan strolling toward your table, his blazer slung over one shoulder and his hair annoyingly perfect, as if heâd stepped out of a magazine, not his office. He grins as he pulls out a chair to join you.
âOh, great,â you mutter, sinking into your seat. âNow itâs both of you.â
Jeonghan raises a brow, clearly delighted. âBoth of us? This sounds like a story. Go on, Iâm listening.â
Minghao smirks, pointing at you with his spoon. âShe went on a date.â
âStop saying it like that,â you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him.
Jeonghanâs eyes light up as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. âOoh, let me guess, the new neighbor you told us about?â
You sigh, knowing youâre outnumbered. âOkay, okay fine. Yes, with the neighbor, and it was nice. Thatâs all youâre getting.â
âNice?â Jeonghan repeats, feigning disappointment. âThatâs all? Come on, you can do better than that. You havenât been on a date in god-knows how long and all you can say is âniceâ?â
âWhy are you even here?â you snap, though you couldnât help the laugh that slipped through.
Minghao tilts his head thoughtfully. âWas it âokayâ good or âplanning another dateâ good?â
âIâm betting itâs the second one.â Jeonghan said, his voice lilting.Â
You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. âWhy do I tell either of you anything?â
Jeonghan flashes his signature cheshire smile, nudging your arm. âBecause weâre your favorite. Now, come on. Was there a spark? A magical moment? Did you trip over something and land in his arms? Donât leave us hanging.â
âNothing like that, you dork.â you respond, trying to hide your smile but failing miserably. âIt was just... fun. Exciting. Better than I thought it would be.â Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look, one of those silent, unspoken conversations that only the three of you could understand.
âDefinitely planning date two,â Minghao says, deadpan.
You groan again, but the warmth of their teasingâplayful and supportiveâmakes it impossible to be annoyed. âI hate you guys,â you mumble, though your laugh gives you away.
âAnd yet,â Jeonghan teases, raising an imaginary glass, âyou keep us around. To your nice, hot neighbor for finally getting you out of your apartment!â
Minghao raises his tea to join in. âCheers to that.â
Rolling your eyes, you clink your mug against theirs. âYouâre both insufferable.â
âFor sure,â Minghao says with a smile, âthatâs why you love us.â
â
Weeks pass in a blur of updating your nosy friends and texting Seungcheol, soon enough you find yourself looking forward to his messages, giddy feelings replaced with warmth and comfort. The banter is light but always at the edge of something more lingering between every word.
Cheol: So u finally going to admit that you miss me?You: I donât wanna lie to you Cheol.Cheol: You say that now, but wait until this weekend. Youâll be begging for more.You: Oh? What if I have plans this weekend? You know, being busy and all that.Cheol: Then I guess Iâll have to cancel my dinner reservations :(You: We can't have that can we?
The next message is an address and the words: 7pm
Saturday evening comes faster than you expected, and when you glance at the clock, the realization hits that youâre running behind. You rush to get ready, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach as you pick out an outfit matching the nice restaurant Seungcheol had sent you. You want to show him a side of yourself thatâs more than you coming home or leaving for work.
You choose a dark red dress that hugs your curves in all the right places. The neckline dips just low enough, an elegant slit running up the side. Paired with black heels and a sleek necklace dangling almost dangerously low, it feels just right. You spend a little extra time on makeup, defining each feature and topping it off with a red lip that matches your dress. By the time youâre finished, you feel more confident than you have in a while.
A knock at your door sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins.You check the mirror one last time before stepping toward the door, trying to keep your composure.
When the door opens Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. The intensity of the gaze almost has you feeling self-conscious, until you see the way his eyes take on a slightly glazed quality instead of the usual teasing glint.
âDamn,â he finally breathes out, his voice low and shaky. âYou look⊠wow.â
You bite back your smile, feeling your cheeks heat up at his gaze. âThanks,â you say, trying to act nonchalant, but failing miserably.
He steps closer, his gaze still lingering on you, and you can almost feel magnetic pull in the space between you. âI⊠â His eyes flick down to your heels and then back up to your face, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. âI might need to take a second to adjust.â
You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hands burning your hips through the fabric of your dress, âWell, would you look at that? Choi Seungcheol is actually tongue-tied.â
Seungcheolâs grin widens, âHow could I not be speechless when you look like that?â, he asks before taking your hand and leading you to his car. The ride is short, but this time, it feels different. The air between you is thick with anticipation, neither of you speaking muchâwords feel unnecessary when the moment speaks for itself.
When you arrive at the restaurant, the valet greets Seungcheol like an old friend, and you canât help but notice the way he carries himselfâconfident, composed, like he belongs in this world. He guides you through the entrance, a small smile on his face as gently takes your hand.
The restaurant has an air of quiet elegance, the kind that feels effortlessly luxurious. The lighting is soft, casting a golden glow on the crisp white table-cloths, the flickering candlelight adding a comforting warmth. The faint murmur of conversation fills the background, but you feel as if the two of you are in your own little world.
Seungcheol pulls your chair out for you as you sit, and you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how natural he makes everything feel, despite the grandeur of the setting. You settle into your seat, your hand instinctively resting on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing the silverware as you glance around. The atmosphere is luxurious, yes, but thereâs something reassuring about the way Seungcheol carries himself, like heâs right at home here.
Once the menus are set in front of you, Seungcheol doesnât hesitate. He scans the offerings with a casual air but glances over at you as you study the menu in your hands. "Don't let the fancy setting fool you. The food here is surprisingly good. Iâve been here more than once.â he says, his voice smooth and low, the confidence he carries in all things evident in the casual mention.
You chuckle, glancing up at him. âTake a lot of your dates here, do you?â
Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. âOnly one.âÂ
You canât help the shy smile that spreads across your face, âWho would have known youâre secretly a softy.â
He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. âIâve got layers, princess. Lots of layers.â
The way he says it, so effortlessly confident, causes your stomach to flutter a lot little. You take a sip of your water, trying not to let him see how much heâs affecting you. âIâm sure. I bet youâre the life of the party at places like this.â
Seungcheol smirks and leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with your reaction. âI can be. But I also know when to appreciate the quiet nights. Sometimes itâs better to enjoy the little things.â His gaze shifts to meet yours then, a quiet intensity in his eyes. Itâs a subtle change, but one that makes your heart race.
You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of his gaze. You glance at the menu again, though you havenât truly registered anything on it. âIâll take your word for it,â you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.
When the waiter returns to take your order, Seungcheol speaks for both of you, his choices seemingly effortless. You take the time to fully appreciate the man in front of you; the way his red tie is the same hue as your dress, how his white button up stretches across his chest giving an outline of a fit physique further supported in the way his sleeves strain against his arms.Â
Seungcheol clears his throat, and you realize youâve been caught red-handed, so you decide to just shrug because yeah, heâs hot. Thereâs something more serious about the way Seungcheol watches you now, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the way the candlelight plays in your hair. Itâs as if the energy in the room has shifted, becoming a little more personal.
âI have to admit,â he says after a long pause, his voice softer than before, âIâm having a really good time.â
You laugh, but itâs not from nervousness. Itâs a genuine sound. âYouâve been teasing me nonstop for days. Iâd hope you at least had a good time after all that hard work.â
His lips curve into that familiar teasing smile. âIâve been doing more than teasing. You just donât realize it yet.â He tilts his head slightly. âIâm glad you came, though. Really.â
The words, simple as they are, catch you off guard. Itâs one thing for him to be flirty, but for him to show this side of him, this quiet sincerity... you werenât prepared for it.
Before you can respond, the drinks arriveâa crisp white wine for you, a rich red for him. The clink of glass as itâs set on the table draws you back into the moment. Seungcheol raises his glass, his eyes locked on yours. "To good company," he says, his tone earnest but playful.
You smile and clink your glass against his, the material cool against your fingers. âTo good company,â you repeat, your voice just as soft.
The conversation flows easy after that, not forced, but natural. He talks about his favorite restaurants, his travels, and how heâs surprisingly fond of quiet nights. You find yourself opening up more than you intended, sharing stories about your childhood, what drives you, what you love most about your work. He listens intently, his gaze never wavering, his attention fully on you. As if every word matters to him, every sentence is important.
Itâs hard not to notice how his gaze shifts from playful to something more thoughtful as you speak, his eyes locking on yours with an unreadable emotion that makes your breath catch every time. You donât want to admit it, but his attention feels like a constant pull on your thoughts, something that you canât seem to escape.
When your meal arrives, the soft clink of silverware against the fine china is the only sound for a moment. You both pause, then Seungcheol leans back slightly, eyeing your plate with a mischievous grin. âYouâre not going to finish that, are you?â he teases. âIâll be happy to help.â
You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a playful glance. âI think Iâll manage just fine.â
The two of you laugh easily over the shared dish, the comfortable intimacy of it all settling around you like a familiar blanket. Itâs rare to feel so at ease with someone in this kind of setting, but with Seungcheol, itâs effortless.
At some point during dessert, Seungcheol reaches across the table and gently runs his thumb along your hand. The motion is slow, deliberate, and for the first time, heâs not teasing. His touch is softer, and his eyesâgod those eyesâhold a sincerity that has you feeling like youâre the only person in the roomâin the whole world even.
âYou know,â he murmurs, âIâm really glad you agreed to come out with me tonight.â
You hum, feeling a flutter deep in your chest. âSo youâve mentioned.âÂ
After a moment you respond again, âI am too.â
You both sit in silence for a moment, the tension between you now wrapping around your mind and dulling the outside world. The soft clink of glasses, the quiet hum of the restaurant, the distant murmur of conversations... it all fades into the background.
Finally, after a long moment of simply looking at each other, Seungcheol stands and walks around to your side of the table, offering his hand. âLetâs go,â he says, his voice low but steady.
By the time youâre at the door to your apartment, the tension between the two of you is almost suffocating. You invite him inside, and Seungcheol takes a deep breath, âIâm not sure if thatâs a good idea. I donât think Iâll be able to hold myself back.â
And when you lean close to his ear and tell him then donât, itâs like floodgates open. Seungcheol shuts the door behind him, crowding you against it as he leans close to you, hands finding your hips and breath warm against your ear. âDo you even know what youâve been doing to me all night?â he asks, voice so low it's almost a growl.
You smile, hands trailing up his torso to wrap around his neck, âI guess I clean up well.â
Seungcheol chuckles darkly, experimentally squeezing your hips, âToo bad Iâm gonna get you all dirty again.â
When he tilts your chin up to meet his lips, you expect the kiss to be hungry, as desperate as he has you feeling, instead Seungcheol kisses you slowly, tenderly with a sweetness rivaling ambrosia. Your arms wind themselves around his neck, pressing yourself harder against him as if even a second apart would be painful because, quite frankly, thatâs how kissing him felt. He takes his time to savor each brush of your lips on his, each sigh that you breathe into his mouth.
Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. His pupils are blown out, hair messy with your hands in it and red lipstick smeared on his swollen lips. Youâre sure you donât look much different, as the two of you crash back together at the same time. This kiss is how you expected the first to be, hungry, desperate, and hard.
Even when your lungs burn for air your lips chase after him when he separates from you, pupils blown out, hair messy, your lipstick smeared across his mouth, Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined.Â
The only thing you can hear is breathlessness before youâre tangling your fingers into his hair to crash your lips together again. Seungcheol presses into even more, hands pushing against your door as he intoxicates you once more. The kiss isnât soft this time, lust taking over and pulling the two of you into each other. His hand moves to your jaw, switching the angle and taking away any last bit of brain function you have because even when kissing you with such passion Seungcheol still isnât rough with you. He kisses you with a confidence and control that has you whimpering into his lips.
The sound clearly affects him, his tongue prodding at your lips and a small breath leaving him when you open your mouth further. He starts exploring your mouth as his hands move to explore your body, sliding up and down your waist to your thighs, where he squeezes before lifting you up seemingly effortlessly.Â
âYour room?â Seungcheol murmurs into your mouth. You break apart from him once again, hands on either side of his face, forehead resting against his. âSame layout as your apartment.â You recall, resuming the kiss once more as he carries you over to your bed, gently setting you down on the edge.
He drinks the breathy sound that leaves your mouth when his fingers find the zipper on your back, slowly drawing it down and caressing each new plane of skin revealed to him. You lift your hips, helping him get the dress fully off your body and thrown somewhere on the floor. You try to pull him in closer to you but Seungcheol is frozen. You wiggle impatiently and he just shakes his head at you, a breathy laugh leaving his kiss swollen lips.
âBe patient baby, let me appreciate you, fuck.â The last word comes from a deep place in his chest, an almost guttural sound as his hands gently trace up your legs, hips, waist, settling just below your dark red lace bra that matches your now discarded dress. He looks at you with an awe equal to that of meeting a deity, as if heâd never seen anything more captivating and never will in this lifetime. His gaze makes you flush because youâre just you, sure you put on a pretty matching set but even then you didnât think heâd be this into it. You apparently verbalize your thoughts unintentionally because Seungcheol looks up at you once more, this time gaze filled with disbelief.
âJust you? Just you? God, you really donât know how beautiful you are, do you, princess?â The nickname causes a shiver to go down your spine, his hands gently as they move behind you, unclipping your bra. âSo perfect, so pretty for me.â His words are accompanied by his hands slowly massaging your now bare chest before he dives into you, mouth ravishing every inch on your skin as he pulls sounds from you. Your fingers find their way to his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin. After thoroughly stealing your breath his lips start making their way down to where you need him most. His nose presses against your core causing an embarrassingly depraved whimper to leave you.
âFuck princess, youâre so ready for me,â he says as he pulls your panties away from your body, holding them up for you to see the ruined fabric. You donât have time to think about them as he starts to leave hot open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh before dipping his tongue ever so slightly into your weeping hole. Your hands tug slightly on his hair and seemingly break whatever resolve he has as he starts to devour you. He knows exactly when to slow down, licking your cunt up and sucking in ways that have your head spinning. Your insides clench around nothing, leaking arousal as his lips wrap around your clit. He drinks all of your juices, his tongue collecting your wetness like water.Â
When he focuses his tongue on your hole, prodding timidly inside you as your walls beg to be stretched, your hands tug harshly at his hair, making him moan right into your cunt, as if heâs enjoying the pull of his hair as you use him for your pleasure. Your orgasm approaches at the speed of light, quicker than youâd ever thought a man could pull from you.
You spasm with each swipe of his tongue that gets faster as he notices how close you are. When he decides to focus on teasing your clit, something snaps in you and you come undone on his tongue.Â
He practically makes out with your cunt, stretching out your orgasm and making your legs tremble at his sides. You can feel the big smirk across his lips through your pleasure-induced haze. He doesnât move away even when you start to feel over stimulated, you tug on his hair.
âYou can give me one more, right princess?â He looks like something straight out of a porno, mouth covered in you, hair messy between your fingers, how could you possibly resist such a sight, especially when his finger runs up and down your entrance teasingly.
âPleaseâ is all you have to say before he disappears once more between your legs. His fingers start to stretch out your walls, tongue lapping up any juices that escape. The pounding of his fingers inside you drag you close to the edge faster than before, and when his fingers graze one spot youâre seeing stars.
âThere, right there fuck Cheol pleaseââ your words get cut off by a breathy moan as he sucks on your clit, vision going blurry as you come on his fingers. When youâre coming down from the high, you watch as he takes said fingers and licks them clean with a groan, âYou might just be my new favorite meal, princess.â
Your eyes roll at the comments as you shakily climb to your knees, earning a raised eyebrow from Cheol as you grab his shirt to pull him towards you, âYouâre looking way too clothed to be saying that right now.â You mutter, making quick work of his buttons. His laugh turns into a groan when you press a kiss to his neck, sliding his shirt off of him and running your hands across the expanse of his torso. His muscles are firm and defined, and you donât resist the urge to bend over and softly bite his chest, reveling in the choked sound he makes. His hands grab your head, pulling you into a wet kiss as you pull at his pants and boxers, sliding them down his legs to free his hard cock. As you look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, long, thick, deliciously curved, this man will be the end of you.Â
Nothing couldâve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips. A whimper escapes you, and Seungcheol hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. âFuck, princess. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined itâd feel this good,â he thrusts his hips up, causing your movements to stutter as you gag. âYou can take a bit more, yeah?â his question ends with a groan, his fingers tightening on your hair.Â
You lower your head further in response, taking in another more of him. His hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair.
âFuck, just like that baby, want you to choke on it,â his voice is gravely and low, the sound going straight to your core. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and your eyes start to water. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure.
âFuck my throat,â you beg ask, âPleaseâ
A smile dangles on the corner of his lips as he guides himself into your mouth, smirking at how your eyes roll back in pleasure. âWell since you asked so nicely.â
You whimper around him, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. Suddenly he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, âYou fucking love that, donât you?â he asks with a sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. Thereâs no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. He crashes his lips to yours in response before pulling away suddenly.
His eyes widen as he looks around, suddenly looking frantic, âShit, condoms. Stay here, Iâll quickly get dressed and run to myââ
âAre you clean?â
Seungcheolâs eyes go wide at your suggestion before slowly nodding, âI got tested last month, youâre not suggestingâŠâ His voice trails off.
Have you ever let anyone hit it raw? Absolutely not. Did you have the patience for him to go to his apartment and grab condoms? Also absolutely not.
âIâm on birth control, clean, and way too fucking horny for you to be anywhere except inside me.â You state blankly. He shakes his head in astonishment before climbing on top of you, kissing you once more.Â
âGod, youâre perfect.â he sighs, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks at you one more time for approval. âReady?â
âPleaseâ Fuck!â you nearly scream as his head slides inside you, eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers werenât enough. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. He barely pulls out before fucking into you with a little more force. âShit, youâre so tight, fuck.â
âCheol please,â you gasp, not quite sure what you're asking for when you latch onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly heâs bottoming inside you. Youâve never felt this full in your life as Seungcheol waits for you to adjust, pussy spasming around him in ways that make his eyes roll back. When you give him the okay he pulls out slowly, so you can feel every vein as it drags on your walls before he fucks back into you.
His pace starts to get faster and the sounds from both of you sound straight from a porno, but you donât care because all you can think about is how good his dick feels inside you, how full you feel. From this position, you can see the way his face contorts in pleasure, brows furrowed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips and sucks hard. âFuck princess, youâre so perfect shitâ pretty pussy made for me, huh?â
âFor you,â you pant, thoughts reduced to just the feeling of him inside you. âAll for you Cheol.â
His mouth curves into a soft smile as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Seugcheolâs hand slides down to grasp your hip, squeezing the soft skin and pulling you harder against him, impossibly closer.Â
âYouâre perfect princess, my perfect pretty baby,â he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you canât help but whine. âSo fuckinâ perfect,â he repeats, more to himself than to you, voice strained as he tries to hold himself back, chasing your release before his own.
The pressure inside you builds up, tightening, and youâre sure you look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, but the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. âCheol, IâmââÂ
He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. âIâve got you baby, let go for me. Iâll take care of you,â his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall (thank god his room is the only one next to yours). Your body obeys him, a gast tearing through you as you moan Seungcheols name like a prayer. âThatâs it, fuck, thatâs it,â he doesnât stop, fucking you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, his expression as wrecked as you feel. âTell me whereâ.â
âInside.â
âShit, are you sure?â
âFill me up Cheol, please. Want it so bad.â
Heâs not strong enough to deny you such a thing. He buries himself inside you, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls. He ruts against you, his body trembling against yours before he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently. You almost cry when he slips out of you, hating the feeling of being empty as he finds your bathroom and returns with a towel to clean you up, eventually lulling you to sleep.
â
The first thing you register when you wake up is warmthâ you soft sheets tangled around your limbs, the lingering scent of cologne woven into the fabric. The second thing is weight, the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek, an arm draped around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your hip.
Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, youâre disoriented. The golden morning light filters through the curtains, casting lazy patterns across the room, but it takes another second for reality to catch up.
Seungcheol.
His presence is unmistakable, the solid warmth of him anchoring you even before you tilt your head up to look at him. His face is relaxed in sleep, soft in a way you donât think youâve seen before. His lashes rest against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, one hand still gripping your waist as if unconsciously keeping you close .
You take a slow breath, careful not to wake him just yet, allowing yourself the luxury of watching him like this. The confidence he always carries, the sharp smirks and teasing remarksânone of it is present in this moment. Right now, heâs just Seungcheol.
Your fingers move instinctively, tracing the curve of his nose, the contour of his lips. His grip on your waist tightens slightly in response, and you hear the low, raspy sound of his voice.
âMmm.â A deep inhale, then a groggy mumble. âItâs too early.â
You laugh softly, then for a moment, thereâs nothing but the sound of your breathing, the quiet of the morning stretching between you. His fingers skim along your spine absentmindedly, tracing patterns into your skin. Itâs dangerously intimate, this kind of quiet closeness, and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to say something.
When he finally does, his voice is softer than before. âDid you sleep well?â
You nod against him. âYeah. You?â
His thumb brushes over your hip, slow and deliberate. âBest sleep Iâve had in a while.â
Thereâs something unspoken in his words, something that lingers between the two of you, but neither of you address it. Not yet. Instead, you stay like this for a while longer, wrapped in each other. Eventually, though, reality has to creep back in. You sigh, shifting slightly. âWe should probably get up.â
Seungcheol groans dramatically, pulling you tighter against him. âOr we could just stay like this.â
You laugh, pushing at his chest again, this time with more force. âYou have things to do, and Iââ
ââhave to stay here and cuddle me,â he finishes smoothly, peeking one eye open again and giving you a peck on the lips. âSounds like the perfect plan, right?â
You roll your eyes but donât immediately pull away, allowing yourself one more stolen moment of peace before finally sitting up. Seungcheol watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded, filled with something you canât quite name. Then, just as youâre about to move off the bed, his hand catches your wrist, stopping you.
You glance back at him, and his expression is unreadable for a beat before he smirks, tugging you down just enough to brush his lips against yours.
âMorning,â he murmurs, and it feels dangerously close to something more.
You swallow, the weight of the moment settling over you, but instead of overthinking it, you smile. âMorning.â
â
A week later you find yourself lying in the same bed, missing the man who had laid with you. The two of you havenât seen each other sinceâyour schedules never quite aligningâbut the texts havenât stopped. If anything, theyâve only gotten more frequent and flirtatious.
Cheol: You avoiding me or just giving me time to miss you? You: Are those the only options? Cheol: Unless youâd rather admit you canât stop thinking about me. You: Youâre so full of yourself. Cheol: And you love it.
You hate how much you do love it.
You turn and nearly walk into two people standing in the hallway.
âWhoaâcareful,â a deep voice says as a steady hand catches your elbow.
Itâs Seungcheol. Of course, itâs Seungcheol. Heâs standing in front of you, that familiar grin spreading across his face. Standing next to him is a man you instantly recognizeâWonwoo. His calm, sharp features are exactly as you remember, though he seems a little more refined since college. You school your expression, feigning polite curiosity.
âHey,â you manage, adjusting your grip on the bag.
âHey yourself,â Seungcheol says, his grin widening. âDidnât expect to see you here.â
âUh, I live here,â you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden thumping in your chest.
Wonwoo clears his throat, glancing between the two of you. âCheol, are you going to introduce me, or should I do it myself?â
âRight.â Seungcheol gestures toward him. âThis is Wonwooâfriend, buddy, compadre, if you will, and frequent pain in my ass. Wonwoo, this isâŠâ He pauses, âHer.â
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow but extends a hand to you. âNice to meet you, âHer.â Or, nice to see you again, I guess.â
You laugh, shaking his hand. âNice to see you too. Iâd remind you of my real name, but apparently Seungcheol forgot it.â
âHardly, youâre the only thing heâs been talking about recently. You were friends with Kwanâ, right? I think I crashed your study sessions a few times.â
The mention of Seungkwan brings a smile to your face, heâs now roommates with Jeonghan, even though heâs grown so much since you first met him the younger boy will always have a special place in your heart, âYeah probably, he always had someone tagging along with him. That kid was a real social butterfly.â Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond but Seungcheol cuts him off.
âYeah, great, glad you guys are close.â Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he studies you. âSmall world and such.â
Your stomach twists slightly, but you keep your expression neutral. âYeah, crazy coincidence. Itâs almost like we went to the same school.ïżœïżœ you say sarcastically, âSo, what games will you be playing today?âÂ
Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you, âWho said anything about playing games?â
You swear your heart stops at that moment.
âOh-uh,â Think, think, think, âWell the walls donât do a very good job at masking your swearing at night, just assumed thatâs what was going on.âÂ
Wonwoo, ever the observant one, stays quiet, but thereâs a flicker of something in his eyesâlike heâs connecting dots that youâd rather he didnât.
âSure,â Seungcheol responds, still watching you closely. âAnyways, we should get going.â
You nod, stepping back toward your door. âYeah, it was nice seeing you both. I should put these away before they melt.â
âUh huh,â Seungcheol mutters, stepping aside. Wonwoo simply nods politely, his expression calm but unreadable.
Once inside your apartment, you set the groceries down with a sigh, your mind racing. You didnât slip up that bad, right? At least you had covered your mistake pretty well? Still, there was something about the way Seungcheol looked at youâ like he was trying to piece together a puzzleâ that left a sinking feeling in your stomach.
â
Another few days pass before you hear from Seungcheol outside of the usual teasing texts. Youâre curled up on your couch when your phone buzzes.
Cheol: So, are you going to keep eavesdropping through the walls, or are you finally going to come over and play?
You roll your eyes but canât help the small smile tugging at your lips.
You: Who says I want to play?
Cheol: You wound me. But fine, if youâre too scared to lose, I understand.
You: Oh, please. Like you could actually beat me at anything.
Cheol: Prove it. Tonight. My place.
You hesitate for a moment. Itâs one thing to comment on him playing games, but actually playing with him? You canât be sure you wonât slip up again. But then again, you canât let him think youâre scared.
You: Fine. What time?
Cheol: 8. Wonwoo will be there. And a few others. Donât be late.
You stare at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. Thereâs no way this is a good idea, but youâre already getting up to change.
â
At 8:03, you knock on Seungcheolâs door. He opens it almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you.
âYouâre late,â he says, pouting slightly.
âItâs literally been three minutes, you big baby.â
âThree minutes too long.â He steps aside, letting you in. âCome on, the others are already here.â
His apartment is warm and filled with an easy kind of chaos. Wonwoo is lounging on the couch, a controller in hand, looking perfectly unbothered as he glances up at you. âShe showed.â
âShe did,â Seungcheol confirms, closing the door behind you.
At the other end of the room, four other guys are gathered, already deep into conversation. Seungcheol gestures toward them. âThese are the guys. Thatâs Jihoonâ" he points to the one sitting cross-legged on the floor, focused on a laptop. Jihoon barely glances up, offering only a short nod. âVernonââ the boy next to Jihoon gives a small wave, expression relaxed. âMingyuââ the tall one grins and throws an arm around Seungcheolâs shoulder. âAnd Soonyoung.â
Soonyoungâwho you recognize from random campus events back in collegeâimmediately brightens. âWait, I know you! You were friends with Seungkwan, right?â
You laugh, nodding. âYeah, that was me.â
âSmall world, huh?â
Seungcheol claps his hands together. âAlright, now that introductions are out of the way, letâs get down to business.â
âGames,â Mingyu supplies helpfully.
âWinning,â Seungcheol corrects, looking directly at you.
You raise an eyebrow. âYou wish.â
He grins. âWeâll see.â
â
The first game is an intense round of Mario Kart, and to no oneâs surprise, Wonwoo dominates. âYou guys suck,â he mutters as he crosses the finish line first yet again (as if you and Seungcheol werenât on his tail the whole time).
âOkay, okay,â Seungcheol says, waving a hand. âLetâs switch it up. How about teams?â
You find yourself paired with Jihoon, who simply shrugs. âYou ready?â
You smirk. âLetâs kick some ass.â
âHell yeah.â
The match starts, and itâs immediately clear that Seungcheol is more competitive than he let on. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of victory, and groans of defeat. Soonyoung nearly falls off the couch at one point, yelling dramatically when your car pulls ahead of him.
Through it all, you feel yourself relaxing, the nervous energy from earlier fading away. When you glance at Seungcheol, heâs already watching you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he grins again.
â
As the night stretches on, the games gradually give way to easy conversation and laughter, drinks appearing in everyone's hands. Mingyu pours shots for everyone, insisting on a toast to new friends, while Soonyoungâalready a little tipsyâchallenges Jihoon to a battle of wits (which mostly consists of Jihoon sighing heavily while Soonyoung rambles on).
You find yourself nestled into the couch, comfortably warm from the drinks, the buzz of conversation wrapping around you. Seungcheol drops down next to you, draping an arm along the back of the couch. âHaving fun?â he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.
You let out a quiet laugh. âGuess youâre not as unbearable as I thought.â
âHigh praise.â He grins, taking a sip from his glass.
Eventually, the night winds down, one by one, the others heading out or claiming their spots to crash for the night. You stretch, standing up to grab your things. Seungcheol watches you with an amused glint in his eyes. âNeed someone to walk you home?â
You raise an eyebrow, a huffed laugh leaving you. âWhat, for the whole two feet I need to walk?â
âExactly,â he says, standing up and smirking. âWouldnât want anything to happen to you in the five steps it takes to get there.â
You roll your eyes, but thereâs a smile tugging at your lips as he walks you to your door anyways. As you turn the key to your apartment, you look back at him, maybe itâs the alcohol in your system, or maybe itâs the confidence from meeting his friends that has you leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips, âGoodnight, gamer boy.â
You realize your mistake the next morning, hoping he didnât.
â
Still, life goes on, months pass by with you and Seungcheol seeing each other but never giving what you have a label. Your affection for the man starts to pile more by the day along with your guilt, feeling as if youâre betraying him with every brush of your skin on his. Tonight youâre curled up comfortably by his side, his TV playing some rom-com in the background as the two of you feast on fried chicken and soju, a perfect evening. You donât know when your conversation became talking about your childhood, but you donât care as Seungcheol tells you a story of the messes he got into with his older brother.
âYouâve always been a trouble-maker havenât you?â you exclaim, kissing the tip of his nose. He giggles, humming in response and you admire the way it makes his face light up, warming your heart. Everything is so perfect, the way his arms wrap around you, the way the alcohol makes your brain slightly fuzzy. How he presses kisses all over your face as you laugh, finally getting a real kiss pressed to your lips as he lays you down on his couch. Sweet, gentle, and full of an emotion you donât want to name. When he pulls back the same emotion fills his eyes.
âI really like you, you know?â he says shyly. You nod in response, smiling up at him. âWe should make things official then, yeah?â Youâre about to nod when the guilt youâve been suppressing comes back stronger than ever, âI- Iâm sorry.â You tell him. Before he can question you further, you stand up, rathering your stuff, âIâm really sorry Cheol.â You say once again before leaving his apartment, too drunk and too scared to face him.
The next day, as much as you try to avoid him, you run into Seungcheol in the hallway and he stops you. His teeth worry at his bottom lip, brow furrowed, âWe need to talk about last night. Did I do something? I thought weâ I thought things were going well butâ just.. Tell me what I can do. Please?â
His words shatter any resolve you had to keep things from him.
âI know you stream.â the words fall from your mouth and make the man in front of you go ridged, âI mean, Iâve watched you a few timesâ more than a fewâ I found you a few months before you moved in and didnât really know what to do.â You wring your hands together, too nervous to look him in the eye.
A few moments pass before he replies, âSo what, you just planned on never telling me? Even after we started hanging out? After we⊠after everything?â His voice sounds defeated, broken. You shake your head but no sound comes out of your mouth. What could you say? Had you ever planned on telling him? You never knew things would get this far, if you did would you have told him sooner. You can feel Seungcheols heavy gaze on you, prompting you to speak, âIâ I donât know Cheol. Iâm really sorry I just- I donât know.â
He nods in response, and you can practically feel your heart drop, âGive me some time.â Is all he says before walking away, leaving you feeling empty.
Another week passes without a word from Seungcheol. Then another. Guilt is eating you from the inside, you donât know what Seungcheol is thinking, if heâll ever talk to you again. You canât say youâd blame him if he didnât. Once again at work you start slipping up, eventually Minghao decides that enough is enough.Â
âSpill, now.â He says when you take your usual seat across from him. You try to convince him to wait until Jeonghan arrives but heâs firm in his insistence.
âTell me what's going on, from the beginning. No lies, no excuses, no âIâll figure it out on my ownâ bullshit.â And so you do. You start from the beginning, Jeonghan's recommendation, the comfort it had brought you until your new neighbor appeared, the dates, the late-nights, the avoidance. You spill your guts out and Minghao listens. When you finish your tangent he just shakes his head.
âI know Iâm an idiot Hao, but what was I supposed to do?â You defend yourself, from what exactly, you arenât sure. Your throat starts to tighten and Minghao places his hand atop yours on the table, âHey, itâs going to be okay. Youâre overthinking it.â He talks the panic out of you like he has so many times before, guides your breathing and soothes your nerves.
âJust because youâre an idiot doesnât mean you canât fix things.â His statement makes you laugh, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. âTrust me, Iâm sure you and your little gamer boy can work things out. Just tell him the truth, the same way you just told it to me.â You nod in response. The rest of the break the two of you talk like you always do, laughing and jabbing your coworkers as Minghao just rolls his eyes at you.Â
âY/n?â
Your name from across the room breaks the comfortable bubble youâd been in with your friend. Seungcheol stands a few feet away from your table, betrayal evident in his eyes. You stand up to go towards him, but his scoff makes you stop in your tracks. He turns on his heel and walks out.
âWhat are you doing? Go after him, dumbass.â Broken out of your trance you hurry out the door, ignoring how the cold wind bites at your skin, your jacket left behind you. Seungcheolâs back is towards you as you chase after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face you.
âWait a second, I-âÂ
Youâre cut off when he yanks his arm from your grip. Your chest aches when you see the look in his eyes. Itâs unfamiliar, the face of the man you once found comfort in contorted into something else, something that scared you.
âDonât start with me Y/n,â his tone is harsh, cutting through the cold air straight into your chest, âI trusted you, you know that? I really trusted you, I thought- it doesnât even matter because you turned out to be the same as everyone else. This is all, what, some sort of twisted game? You wanted to get into my life and have a piece of me like every other crazy bitch that watches me, right? Well congradu-fucking-lations, you win. Your sick game is over now.â His eyes looked at you, filled with anger, betrayal, hatred, âAnd to think, after I started to believe that maybe, just maybe you had a reason to lie to me, that you actually cared about me, I see you with another guy. You canât even go one week without finding a new boy-toy to play with, can you? Youâre just another attention-seeking whore.âÂ
His words hit you like a slap in the face. Here you are, freezing your ass off to try and explain yourself all for what? Finally all the emotions that have been boiling under the surface start to bubble over, âExcuse me?â Your voice comes out dangerously calm, seemingly stopping Seungcheolâs next sentence.Â
âFirst of all,â you clarify, âyouâre the one who moved in next to me, let's not get things twisted. And yeah, I didnât tell you I knew who you were, you wanna know why? Because the first time I saw you it looked like you were about to have a nervous breakdown because I recognized you. Of fucking course I said I knew you from college, I wasnât about to make you more uncomfortable than you already were! I havenât watched a single video since that day out of respect for you and your privacy. You are the one who kept talking to me, you are the one who asked me out, you are the one who kept doing things that would make it impossible for me to not start falling for you. A whore? Iâve been so worried about you that I make stupid mistakes in the simplest fucking tasks at work and my coworkers started to get worried, my friends started to get worried. So I finally tell them what's going on and when they convince me to come clean and explain everything to you, you decide to jump to conclusions. You can say whatever you want, Choi Seungcheol, but donât you dare think for a second that I donât care about you.â Hot tears stream down your face, but you donât care, the words come pouring out from you, and you watch as Seungcheols expression morphs from anger, looking away before you can see what it turns into. His hand reaches out for yours but you pull away, not looking at him because you know if you do itâll change your mind. âI hope you can find an attention-seeking whore to play with Seungcheol because I canât do this. Not anymore.â
When you return to the cafe, Minghao doesnât scold you for letting your emotions control you, offering instead to cover for you so you could go home but you refuse. Because what is home, you think, without Seungcheol.Â
You stay at Jeonghans for the next few days, calling out sick from work to instead watch dramas with Seungkwan. He doesnât question your sudden appearance, nor the tears that fall whenever the drama leads would interact, which youâre thankful for. He gives you a steady shoulder to cry on and a reliable source of laughter to cheer you up. The two of you are currently huddled under a blanket, watching as Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams run towards each other in the rain. Your hands are holding his tightly under the blanket as you both squeal when they kiss. When the movie ends tears stream down both of your faces and Seungkwan bumps your shoulder lightly, âWhatever youâre going through must be serious, you never cry during The Notebook.âÂ
You roll your eyes at his statement, laughing along with him as you turn the T.V. off. He turns to face you, suddenly serious and you know what's coming.
âYouâre not kicking me out, are you?â The smile accompanying your joke doesnât quite reach your eyes, and Seungkwan notices with a sigh.
âYou know I would never, but you also know you canât avoid going back forever. Eventually youâll need to go back to your apartment.â He gives a pointed look at your too-big hoodie and sweats courtesy of Jeonghan. âListen Y/n, you know I love you butââ
âI know Kwanâ, I know. Iâm just scared. Even if I know youâre right. I donât think Iâm ready to face him yet.â You cut him off, tears welling in your eyes once more. Seungkwan clasps your hands in his.
âRemember my senior year when I had a mental breakdown and called you at ass-Oâ-clock in the morning?â You nod, the memory vague but there. He continues, âI went over to your house and told you I was scared, that suddenly everything felt so real with job applications, interviews, and graduation getting closer. I didnât know what to do, I wasnât ready to be an adult yet and suddenly life was being shoved in my face and I didnât know how to cope. Do you remember what you said to me?â A small smile forms on your face among the tears, Seungkwan giving you a reassuring one in response.
 âThere are some things youâll never be ready for, but the clock still ticks and the Earth still spins, no matter how terrified you are. You just have to do it scared.âÂ
You recite the words with him, words your parents had told you when you were eighteen and unprepared for college life, words you lived by since then, that had gotten you through your darkest times and happiest moments. Words that you had somehow lost in the chaos of adulting.Â
You wipe your face on your sleeve, small laughs replacing your sobs as you look at your lap, âThanks Kwan.âÂ
You donât need to say anything else, he knows, like he always does. Like all of your friends always do because at the end of the day no matter how tough things get you will always have an amazing support system full of amazing friends. No man could change that, no amount of distance could break the bond your little entourage have. Because they, you realize, are home.
Seungkwan wraps you in a warm embrace as you tear up some more, not sad this time. The two of you rock back and forth for a while before pulling away and making eye contact.Â
âTomorrow?â
âCanât we wait until the weekend?â
âFine, you stubborn pain in the ass. Saturday. Morning.â
You groan in response but donât bother to hide the smile on your lips.
â
Saturday morning comes faster than youâd like. The moment your eyes flutter open, reality crashes into you like a wave, heavy and unrelenting. For a fleeting moment, you consider burying yourself deeper into the blankets, pretending that you could stay in Jeonghanâs guest room forever. But Seungkwanâs words from the night before echo in your mind. You just have to do it scared.
With a deep breath, you push yourself out of bed. Jeonghan is already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee with an all-knowing smirk when you walk in. "So, todayâs the big day, huh?"
You roll your eyes, reaching for the mug heâs already set out for you. âYou act like Iâm about to get married.â
âConsidering the dramatics, it might as well be.â
You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. âCan you not?â
Jeonghan chuckles, patting the top of your head before walking away. âJust rip the bandaid off, Y/n. Youâll feel better once you do.â
Youâre not sure about that, but you know heâs right.
By the time you reach your apartment complex, your heart is pounding so loudly that you can hear it in your ears. The familiar hallway feels foreign, your feet carrying you toward your door on autopilot. You turn the key in your apartment door, the familiar creak of the hinges sounding louder than usual in the quiet hallway. The space is just as you left itâdim, still, and eerily empty. It feels foreign, like you donât quite belong here anymore. Maybe because, for the past few days, you didnât. With a heavy sigh, you drop your bag by the door and toe off your shoes, making your way to the couch. The exhaustion from carrying the weight of everything settles into your bones. You lean back, eyes fluttering shut, trying to steady your breathing.
It takes a few days for you to settle back into your apartment. At first, everything feels too quiet. You find yourself reaching for your phone to text Seungcheol before remembering the way things ended. You distract yourself with work, with cleaning, with anything to keep your mind from wandering to the ache in your chest. But no matter how much you try to push it down, it lingers.
â
You havenât seen him since that night. You donât expect to. Instead you go back to how things had been before he moved in, ignoring the ache in your chest whenever you hear him through your thin apartment walls.Â
Some nights, you lie awake, staring at the photo you had taken with him on your first date, wishing to go back in time. You listen to the faint sounds of his life bleeding through the walls, wondering if he does the same, or if he threw the picture away all together. The murmur of his voice on the phone, the clink of dishes in the sink, the low hum of his TV. Itâs almost cruel how easily he seems to slip back into routine while you feel like youâre unraveling. You tell yourself it doesnât matter. That youâll get used to it. But the silence in your own apartment is deafening, and the space he left behind feels colder than it should.
You start wearing headphones more often. It helps, a little. Drowns out the ghost of his presence. Keeps you from wondering if he ever pauses, mid-conversation, mid-laugh, mid-breath, thinking about you. You donât let yourself hope.
But late one night, when youâre standing at your sink rinsing out a mug, you hear itâyour name. Soft, hesitant. Muffled by the wall but unmistakable. Your breath catches, fingers tightening around the ceramic. You wait, straining to hear more. A part of you wants to move closer, to press your ear against the wall, to pretend that heâs just on the other side, that nothing has changed. But then you hear footsteps, the creak of his door opening.
And then nothing.
You let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding. You tell yourself it was nothing.
But you donât wear your headphones that night.
â
The next morning, you wake up with the imprint of your phone against your cheek, the playlist you put on last night long finished. Your first thought is that you dreamed itâhis voice, his hesitation. That your mind is just playing tricks on you because it wants so badly to believe he still thinks about you.
But then, as you move through your morning routine, you catch yourself hesitating near the front door. You donât know why. Maybe itâs the weight in your chest, the feeling of stepping into the world once again without him waiting to greet you. You push the feelings aside.
When you finally open the door, you nearly step on somethingâ small and familiar, sitting right in the center of your doorstep.
Your scarf.
You freeze. Your fingers twitch at your sides.
The scarf youâd left at his place weeks ago, back when you still had a place there too. Itâs neatly folded, like he took care with it, but thereâs no note, no explanation. Just the scarf. You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the fabric as you pick it up. It still smells like his apartment, like the faint trace of his cologne, like something that used to feel like home.
You stand there too long, cold air slipping into your apartment through the open door, numbing your fingers, your face. Your mind races with all the possibilitiesâdid he find it by accident? Did he mean to leave it for you himself? Did he hesitate, just like you are now?
You donât know what to do with it.
So you do what you always doâyou tuck it away, shove it into the depths of your closet like you can bury the feelings that come with it.
But that night, when you curl into bed, your hand drifts toward the closet door. Before you can stop yourself, you pull the scarf back out. Hold it in your lap. Press it between your fingers. Like maybe, if you close your eyes, you can pretendâfor just a little whileâthat you never had lied to him in the first place.
â
The scarf stays on your nightstand after that. You donât wear it. You donât even move it. But you donât put it back in the closet, either.
Itâs stupid, you tell yourself. Itâs just fabric. Just something that happened to be left behind. He probably didnât think twice about it. He was just returning something that wasnât his, nothing more.
You keep going to work, settling disputes with coworkers who seem to have nothing better to do than fight (you ignore the way you almost reach for your phone to listen to Seungcheols voice as you work).
You keep meeting Jeonghan and Minghao on Wednesdays, occasionally Seungkwan joins the three of you (you ignore the way they glance at you with pity).
Everything is where itâs supposed to be (you ignore how everything you do feels like itâs missing something).
Itâs late, and youâre lying in bed, not really asleep, not really awake. The walls between your apartments have always been thinâthin enough that sometimes you can catch pieces of his voice, low and tired, when heâs on the phone late at night.
But this time, thereâs no conversation. Just footsteps. The sound of a drawer opening, then closing. A pause. And then, so quiet you almost miss itâyour name.
Your stomach twists.
You tell yourself it was just in your imagination, donât let yourself dwell on why he might have said that because he didnât (you ignore how you know thatâs a lie).
The next morning, you wake up feeling like you never really slept at all. Your body is heavy, your mind clouded with something you donât want to name. You go about your day like normalâlike nothing happened. Like you didnât hear him say your name. Like it didnât send a crack through the carefully constructed distance youâve been trying to build.
But it lingers.
You donât mean to, but you start listening to him more. Not on purposeâat least, thatâs what you tell yourselfâbut your ears tune in anyway. You notice the little things: the way he moves around his apartment, the late nights he stays up, the mornings he leaves just a little later than he used to.
And then one evening, when you step out of your apartment to grab something from the corner store, you nearly run into him.
You freeze.
So does he.
For a moment, neither of you speak. He looks⊠tired. Like he hasnât been sleeping well either. Like maybe heâs been feeling the same weight pressing down on him. Your throat is tight. You should say something. You should walk away.
But then his gaze flickers, just briefly, to your door. To you.
When he starts to turn around Seungkwanâs reminder rings in your head.
Do it scared.Â
And before you can stop yourself, before you can think better of it, his name slips past your lips, âSeungcheol.â
His breath catches.
You take a deep breath to steady yourself, âWe should talk.â
Seungcheol freezes, hand hovering above his door knob for a second before dropping to his side. When he looks up at you his eyes are full of so many emotions it makes your heart ache; shame, regret, hurt, hesitation. It almost makes you change your mind, but then you see it, the tiniest sliver of hope behind his gaze, that helps you keep going, inviting him into your apartment. He hesitates before entering, you walk in after him, closing the door.
Seungcheol doesnât sit, so you donât either. Instead, you stand near the couch, gripping your hands together to keep them from shaking. Itâs silent for a moment, you arenât used to his presence anymore.
âI meant what I said before,â you begin hesitantly. âI never wanted to hurt you.â
His gaze flickers with something unreadable. He responds softly, voice sounding almost broken, âThen why didnât you just tell me?â
You exhale, the numbed frustration and regret rising again in your chest. âAt first I thought it wasnât important, you were just my neighbor, and you looked nervous when we first met so I figured youâd rather stay anonymous. But then we started to get to know each other and suddenly I was keeping a huge secret and I didnât know what to do. I-,â You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and stop your rambling, âI was scared. I didnât want to ruin whatever this wasâwhatever we were. I thought if I told you the truth, youâd push me away.â You let out a small, humorless laugh. âLooks like I managed to do that anyway.â
Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. âYou shouldâve given me the chance to decide how I felt about it instead of lying to me.â
You nod slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. âI know,â you whisper. âI shouldâve told you the truth. I should have done so many things differently, but I didnât, and I hurt you.â You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though it makes your stomach twist. âIâm so, so sorry.â
Seungcheol looks at you, nodding, âMe too. For what I said.â
âDonât worry, I get it, you had every right to be mad.â You protest.Â
He flinches, shaking his head. âNot like that.â His hands ball into fists at his sides before he sighs, running one through his hair. âYeah, you should have told me. And yeah, it hurt. But what I said to you?â His jaw clenches. âThat wasnât fair. You didnât deserve that.â His voice is thick with guilt, his brows furrowed in frustrationâat himself, not at you as he looks away. âDid you- when we would be together who were you thinking of?â
You tilt your head in confusion, so he elaborates, âI guess what Iâm asking is if you just thought of me as S.coups, if you thought it was just another game.â When he meets your gaze once more itâs as if all the confidence was drained from him, he looked unsure, raw vulnerability in the way he bites his lip and wrings his hands together.Â
âIt was never a game, not for me at least. To me youâve always been Seungcheol, even when you first moved in, I didnât really think about your job other than being worried that I would make you uncomfortable by knowing. Even when Iâd watch you play, when you were having fun you were Seungcheol playing games like you used to during class. On days you didnât seem as into it you were Seungcheol doing your job.â
You hear Seungcheol inhale sharply as you continue, âBack then and now you mean so much to me, I never meant to hurt you, but I did. And I donât expect you to forgive me just because I apologized. If you still hate me that fiââ
Youâre cut off by lips on yours, gentle and nervous until you kiss back. After so long it feels like the world finally clicks into place, a hand sliding into yours gently as your tears mix with his.
When you separate Seungcheolâs hand grips yours tightly, eyes still closed as if heâs scared youâll be gone when he opens them. âI donât hate you, Y/n.â His voice is softer now, barely a whisper. âI never did.â This time you lean into him, pressing your lips together once more. His free hand moves to cradle your face, yours lightly gripping the front of his shirt. Muttered âI missed youâs are scattered between kisses as you make your way to the couch, placing yourself on Seungcheolâs lap when he sits. Neither of you can help the tears on your faces.Â
After who-knows-how-long youâre still in Seungcheolâs embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you, drawing slow patterns on your back as the two of you sway back and forth gently. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a quiet rhythm that makes you feel like you can finally breathe easy. You donât know how long you sit there, tangled together on your couch, his arms around you like heâs afraid youâll slip away if he lets go. Maybe he is. Maybe you are too.
âThank you. For coming back.â Seungcheol murmurs into your hair. His voice is soft, careful, like heâs afraid of saying too much, of pushing too hard.
You shift slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are still damp, lashes clumped together, and the sight of it twists something in your chest. âAlways,â you whisper. âIâll be here as long as you still want me.â
His breath shudders as he exhales. âI do.â He presses his forehead against yours, voice thick with emotion. âAlways did, always will.â
You close your eyes, soaking in the warmth of him, the weight of his hands resting at your waist, grounding you. âNo more hiding. No more running.â you say softly.
Seungcheol nods, his grip tightening like heâs holding onto something fragile. âNo more running,â he agrees. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in the quiet, in the warmth of each other, letting the weight of everything settle. Eventually, Seungcheol chuckles, breath fanning against your cheek. âI donât want to move,â he admits.
You smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. âThen donât.â
His lips twitch into a grin. âYouâll let me stay?â
You pretend to consider it, tilting your head. âDepends. Are you planning on stealing all the blankets again?â
Seungcheol laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin. âNo promises.â
You sigh dramatically. âI suppose Iâll allow it.â
His arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to yours. âGood,â he murmurs. âBecause I donât think I can let go just yet.â
Neither do you.
â
âYou ready to lose again?â Seungcheol asks, raising an eyebrow, the usual playful confidence in his voice.
You roll your eyes, scoffing. âIn your dreams, Cheol.â
Itâs silly, how normal it is, how easy it was to slip into the rhythm of this again. Your friends around you in his apartment, all laughing and having fun.
"Hoshi, Iâm going to kick your ass!" Seungkwan yells from across the room, his voice high-pitched with mock frustration.
"You've got a lot of nerve talking, considering you're in last place," Soonyoung teases back, his grin wide and infectious.
"I canât believe weâre playing this game again," Mingyu groans dramatically, even though heâs clearly enjoying himself despite the complaints.
"Youâre just mad because I hit you with a shell. Like this," Jihoon shoots another shell at Mingyuâs cart, the corner of his lips curving upward as he hears Mingyuâs swears.
Seungcheol laughs, his usual confidence shining through as he skillfully handles his character. Every now and then, his hand would brush yours, and in those moments, it felt like time had slowed just enough for you to savor the simple joy of being surrounded by friendsâby family.
"Youâre about to lose!" Jeonghan said, voice full of amusement as he leaned over to look at the screen.
Seungcheol shot him a mock glare. "Youâre not even playing."
But despite the teasing, the tension was long gone. No more waiting for the right moment to speak, no more hiding. It isnât perfectânothing ever isâbut it's real. And that's enough.
You lean back against the couch, your head resting against Seungcheolâs shoulder as you pull into fourth place with a groan.
Seungcheol leans in, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. âSo, when do you plan on winning?â he teases, his grin wider than before.
You glare at him, but the corners of your mouth betray you, lifting into a smile you canât fight. âIâll win when Iâm good and ready, itâs not my fault my boyfriend is a professional.â you reply, your voice playful as you pout at the man in front of you. He laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, âBoyfriend, huh? Youâre trying to use my weaknesses against me arenât you?â You look up at him with the best innocent face you can manage, âThat depends, my dear, is it working?â
âMaybe.â
âUgh, get a room, you two.â Seungkwanâs complaints cause a wave of laughter as Seungcheol just pulls you closer into his side, sticking his tongue out at the younger boy. The teasing continues for a while longer, but you can feel how the warmth in the room isnât just coming from the shared space or the game. Itâs the laughter, the familiarity, and that makes a smile spread onto your lips. No distance, no walls. Just warmth, joy, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who cared. People who you knew would be by your side through thick and thin because the clocks still tick and the Earth still spins, time moves forward with them by your side to move with it.
A/N: Wooo sheâs finally done!! Thx @orngejuic for being my beta reader ilysm.
#seventeen#svt#choi seungcheol#seventeen seungcheol#svt imagines#svt x reader#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol smut#seungcheol x reader#angst#seungcheol angst#seungcheol fanfic#seungcheol imagines#jeonghan#yoon jeonghan
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The difference between ăăźăŒ and ăăŒăŁăš
As I touched on in my japanese goncharov post, itâs amazing how much novel research, entertainment, and art are locked behind a language barrier. Even though as english speakers, we are privileged to have many things translated into our language, itâs a simple fact that most things will not be translated into most languages.
I am a huge fan of ăăèšèȘćŠă©ăžăȘ, a japanese podcast about linguistics. The hosts recently released a book, èšèȘæČŒ, which goes into detail about some of the subconscious rules native japanese speakers follow but arenât consciously aware of (an english equivalent might be that adjective-ordering rule we follow e.g. big brown cow, not brown big cow). Iâm finding it fascinating, and I wanted to discuss some of it here in english, because I think people learning japanese would find some of these things really useful. Itâd be a shame if this knowledge stayed stuck behind the japanese language barrier when the people who would find it the most useful canât speak japanese fluently enough to read it!
The book talks about how most Japanese people will think of ăăăźăŒă and ăăăŒăŁăšă as having the exact same meaning - theyâre both âmeaninglessâ filler words. Despite their belief that theyâre the same, those same native speakers will subconsciously only use ăăźăŒ in one particular type of situation and ăăăŒăŁăšă in another, and even feel confused or annoyed if they hear another speaker use one in the wrong context.
So whatâs the actual difference? ăăăŒăŁăšă is used when the speaker is taking time to remember or solve something. For example, the following exchange is very natural:
Person A: 7 x 5ăŻïŒ Person B: ăăŒăŁăšă35ă
This makes it a pretty versatile filler word! You can use it pretty much anywhere. Another example would be when youâre talking to yourself, trying to remember where you left your keys.
ăăŒăŁăšăé”ă©ăçœźăăăŁăïŒ
On the other hand, ăăźăŒ is much more specific. It can only be used when youâre taking time to figure out the best way to phrase something. For example, when youâre trying to get a strangerâs attention.
ăăźăŒăăĄăăŁăšăăă§ăăïŒ
In contrast, if Person A was addressed with ăăăŒăŁăšăăĄăăŁăšăăă§ăăïŒăby Person B, theyâd feel it was rude because instead of considering how to say something, B is considering what to say, which gives the impression that they hadnât even figured out what they needed to ask before addressing Person A.
This gives ăăăźăŒă a more âpoliteâ feeling than ăăăŒăŁăšă, even though neither is actually more polite than the other. Theyâre just used in different circumstances.
Letâs quickly look at the example with the lost keys again. If you replace the filler word:
ăăźăŒăé”ă©ăçœźăăăŁăïŒ
It is very unnatural. The authors of the book jokingly say that it sounds like youâre talking to a ghost, because ăăăźăŒă is only used when youâre figuring out how to phrase something, and you wouldnât worry about that if youâre talking to yourself.
Also, did you know even japanese children properly use each filler word in the correct situation? Despite almost all japanese people (even as adults) being unaware of this rule, theyâre subconsciously abiding by it even as children - just from listening to their parents follow the same rules!
It really is amazing how good your subconscious mind is at acquiring language, and how terrible your conscious mind is at it. If youâre not already, I highly recommend integrating a lot of simple language content (e.g. youtube, kids shows, etc) into your study routine - listening to people talk is simply the fastest way to become fluent in your target language.
#langblr#japanese#language learning#language acquisition#japanese language#language#linguistics#learning japanese#japanese grammar#jimmy blogthong#official blog post
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It's Just a Game, But Really

Summary: When your brother starts dating Taylor Swift, you figure your wild dreams of dating Harry Styles are now definitely crushed. But some meddling from Jason, Travis, and Taylor may make some dreams come true after all.
Word Count: 3K
AN: This idea randomly popped into my head months ago and I couldn't get it out until I fully wrote it. I feel like this falls into the category of "Crack treated seriously" lol
Also, I understand this is niche, but as an Eagles fan (pls don't come for me) I've watched the entire Travis/Taylor relationship unfold and just thought this would be silly. Writing Jason and Travis was pretty fun too since I've been listening to their podcast for years and it was a cool challenge to write in their voices
Finally, I took creative liberty here and while I normally try to keep details as close to reality as possible, I've changed some things. So the Packers vs Eagles game that happened in Brazil now takes place in philly, and the Chiefs game on Christmas is now against Baltimore so it would be plausible to have the dinner scene in PA. None of this actually matters, this is fiction lol
Title from "So High School" by Taylor Swift
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Growing up with two athletic brothers had been quite an experience. Hundreds of hours were spent at sporting events, often bundled up to watch them play ice hockey or attend the late season football games. In your family, it was important that everyone supported each other.
It went the other way as well. Your brothers attended every spring concert, theater performance, and dance recital you were in. They were your biggest fans, always cheering you on and bringing flowers to give you.
They also took time to learn about your interests. Instead of getting annoyed when Taylor Swiftâs music would play through the house, they started listening.
Especially Travis.
He liked the music, and thought she seemed pretty cool. He didnât admit it, but you guessed that maybe he had a bit of a celebrity crush on her.
Life continued to change as your brothers left for college, then moved to different cities when they got signed to two different NFL teams. You missed them, but it was great seeing them succeed.
Jason and Travis still made time for family, even when Jason got married and started a family of his own. You and Kylie became friends right away, and you immediately loved having another girl in the family. You couldnât wait for it to be Travisâs turn to find someone. But preferably not through his dating show.
When Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, you desperately wanted to go. So you were highly disappointed when you werenât able to get tickets.
And then Travis surprised you with tickets to her show in Kansas City. By this point you had moved in with Jason and Kylie near Philly, but Travis assured you that heâd take care of all the travel logistics to get you to the concert.
You flew in the night before, getting to spend the day with your brother before heading to the stadium. It was weird to be there for a concert, having attended numerous games there before. It was cool to see how it was transformed into something almost unrecognizable.
Being there with Travis meant getting to be seated with a great view in a cordoned off section. It also meant Chiefs fans coming close to the barrier to talk to him before the show. Watching your brother trade friendship bracelets with these people was a strange moment, one you never would have imagined happening.
Through all that, there was one bracelet he had that you noticed he wouldnât trade. Taking a closer glance you see whatâs written on it and give him a confused look.
âTravis, what in the world is this?â you ask.
âFriendship bracelet,â he answers simply, dodging your true question.
âObviously. But why is your number on here? Who is this for?â
He laughs nervously but before you can press it further another fan comes up to say hi. You canât help but wonder what his plan is for that bracelet, even though you have a pretty good idea who its intended recipient is.
The concert begins and you have a wonderful time, dancing and singing along, Travis just as excited beside you. As it ends, Travis speaks with one of the staff members, looking slightly disappointed but not too bothered. Once again youâre left wondering what that was all about.
Itâs a couple weeks later and youâre listening to the latest episode of Travis and Jasonâs podcast when they bring up Travis attending the concert. Sure enough, he confirms he was trying to get that bracelet with his number to Taylor, and you have to commend him on his creativity and optimism.
What you donât expect is for Taylor to find out about that and get in touch with Travis. Now a year later, your brother is in a happy, committed relationship with Taylor Swift. Sheâs come to family dinners, youâve been next to her during Chiefs games, and sheâs made it so you could come to a number of concerts on her tour. You cannot believe that this has become your life. And you have to give your brother credit for his powers of manifestation.
One afternoon youâre hanging in the living room while Jason records the podcast in the basement. He calls out for you and you go down to see whatâs going on.
He hands you a set of headphones so you can hear Travis as well, and fills you in on the topic.
âSo,â Jason begins. âFans are starting to give you credit for Travis and Taylor getting together. Do you think thatâs fair to say?â
You laugh for a moment that this is why youâre called to speak on what should be a sports podcast, before answering, âI think thatâs fair. I mean, he did the work but I would say my childhood Swiftie obsession planted the seed.â
Travis replies, âYou donât think I would have found out about her on my own?â
âOh you totally would have. But I got the ball rolling ages ago. Timing is everything, what if youâd been too late?â
âAlright, Iâll give you that. We can say you had a hand in this.â
âSo that means you owe me,â you say.
Jason chimes in, âYea Trav, your turn to manifest for Y/N.â
âYou want me to manifest a boyfriend for our little sister?â Travis questions.
âOh, right, wait, donât actually do that. I forgot, Y/Nâs not allowed to date until sheâs forty,â Jason says, leading you to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness.
âOk, but if I were to try, who would it be? Y/N, whoâs your celebrity crush?â Travis asks.
Thereâs no way youâre answering that on camera, especially with who the answer actually is. You clench your teeth and lift your eyebrows before cheekily saying, âOh, no, I cannot answer that on the pod. Thatâs uhm. Thatâd be messy.â You then shrug and laugh, trying to play all of this off as a bit.
While Travis tries to dig and get you to answer, it clicks for Jason and he says, âWait, I think I know who it is. Is it, uhm-â
âDonât you dare say anything!â you exclaim to shut him up.
âAlright, alright. I wonât spill your secrets.â
âWell at least tell it to me later,â Travis says, to which you reply, âAbsolutely not. Iâm afraid you may actually try to meddle.â
âWho, me? No way,â he replies only to be met with an unimpressed look from you.
The boys drop the subject and you head back upstairs as they finally talk about football again.
You assume that theyâve moved on, and youâre happy when they donât bring up your celebrity crush again.
Youâre even happier when Jason tells you heâs taking you to the season opener Eagles vs Packers game in Philly. Youâre super excited to be able to experience an Eagles game alongside your brother. Youâre also glad you can be there for him in case itâs hard for him to watch them play without him for the first time since his retirement.
What youâre unaware of is the plan that Jason and Travis had made behind your back.
âSo now youâre on board with trying to set up our little sister?â Jason had questioned during a phone call a couple weeks prior.
âYes. And I have a way of making it happen,â Travis had answered.
âAnd you want me to help Y/N meet and potentially date a popstar who happens to be your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend?â
âYes.â
âAnd heâs a Packers fan?â
âYea, that is the unfortunate part. And youâre not really helping them date. Thatâs all on them. But you could at least help her meet him at the game.â
âThis is ridiculous,â Jason says. âBut Iâll do it.â
And thatâs how you find yourself walking through the tunnels of the Linc with Jason before the start of the game and bumping into Harry Styles.
âHello, Iâm Harry,â he says cheerfully, holding a hand out for you to shake.
Mustering up all of your chill, you smile in return while reaching out to clasp his hand and say, âIâm Y/N. Itâs so nice to meet you, Iâm a big fan.â
âWell, thank you for your support,â he says.
âYou kids want a picture?â There are few times you want to kill your brother, but him butting in while youâre talking to Harry Styles is definitely one of them.
âThatâs alright,â you say, trying not to impose on Harry too much. So youâre surprised when Harry says, âOf course, letâs get a photo!â
You stand next to him, and his arm wraps around your shoulder and you hope your expression doesnât show how crazy fast your heart is beating while Jason takes the picture.
âIt was so nice meeting you both, Iâll see you around!â Harry says as he walks away.
Before Jason can begin to tease you, you say, âDonât even say a word.â
He listens to you and instead just laughs as you keep walking.
After some quick hellos to the stadium staff, youâre led up to a box.
âI thought we just had seats today?â You question.
âWe did. But when I was talking to Mark he said we got upgraded.â
When you step into the box youâre once again surprised by the presence of Harry Styles.
âOkay, we are definitely in the wrong place,â you murmur to your brother.
âOh good, you guys found us!â Harry says. You look to see who heâs talking to and get shocked to see itâs you and Jason. âThere were some open spots so I asked if you two could join us,â he explains.
âWow, thank you!â You manage to squeak out.
Suddenly youâre realizing what is about to happen. A four minute encounter in the hallway? Easy. An entire three hour football game? Thereâs no way you make it through without embarrassing yourself.
And yet, halftime comes and youâve so far managed not to make a fool of yourself. In fact, youâre even impressed by your witty banter as the Eagles and Packers go back and forth taking the lead.
âSo, I read about these botanical gardens nearby,â Harry says.
âLongwood?â You ask.
âYea, have you ever been?â
âA couple times. I went with Jason, Kylie, and the kids earlier this summer. Theyâre really nice. If youâre thinking about going, I highly recommend.â
âI actually got a couple tickets for the fountain show tomorrow night. I was wondering if youâd like to go with me.â
Quickly processing that Harry is asking you to hang out with him, possibly go on a date with him, you reply, âIâd love to!â
âFantastic! I can pick you up in the afternoon?â
âSounds good to me, thank you.â
You exchange phone numbers and give Harry your address, still in disbelief that all of this is actually happening.
The game resumes, and as the Eagles make their comeback you canât help but cheer and get wrapped up in the game. And even as Harryâs team starts losing, he still stays happy and continues to joke around with you.
When the game ends and the Eagles fans celebrate, you say to Harry, âI hope this doesnât affect us hanging out tomorrow.â
âNot a chance, in fact I think that will cheer me up,â he says with a smile.
âHey Y/N, Iâve gotta go talk to a couple people. You hanging here or coming with me?â Of course, thereâs your brother interrupting again. And while youâd rather stay with Harry, you don't really want to be separated from Jason in the post-game chaos. So you say goodbye to Harry with the promise to see him the next day.
On your way back home you put up with the teasing from your brother.
You beg him to be on his best behavior when Harry picks you up the next day.
You know he wonât.
So itâs no surprise that he gives Harry âthe talkâ, telling him that if he hurts you at all then heâll have to face two NFL players.
Youâre hanging in the living room with Kylie and the kids while this happens, and when the two boys come back Kylie asks,âHe wasnât too scary, was he?â
âNo,â Harry replies. âJust scary enough Iâd say. Shall we get going?â He addresses this last question to you and you agree, more than happy to get out of the house before Jason takes his big brother role too seriously.
When Harry drives away he lets out a deep breath and you say, âYou good?ïżœïżœ
âYea, just- Your brother is scary.â
You start to laugh at the fact that Jason managed to actually shake up Harry Styles. But you decide to help him out by saying, âHe seems scary, but itâs mostly all talk. Unless you do something to hurt me. Then you should be scared.â
âOh I feel so much better,â he says, laughing along now.
The two of you have a wonderful time together at the gardens, especially since Harry manages to somehow fly under the radar. The fountain show is fascinating, and you stand together, Harryâs arm around your waist sending butterflies through your belly.
Itâs late when you get home, and he walks you to the door like a gentleman.
When he asks if he can kiss you, of course you say yes. He leans in for a soft kiss before saying goodnight, not leaving until youâve made it safely inside.
Jason is waiting up for you, and as you tell him about your night you watch his gruff exterior fade away. He looks truly pleased by all you have to report and youâre glad that he seems to approve of Harry.
For the next couple of months, it all goes well. Your relationship with Harry flourishes. You get to see him more than expected since he starts working out of a studio in NYC, only two hours away from where you are.
There is one mild bump in the road, occurring on a Friday evening when Jason and Kylie are supposed to be out at a party with the girls.
Youâd been planning on a quiet night home alone. But then Harry had surprised you by showing up at your front door, a bouquet of flowers in hand.
One thing led to another, and before you know it youâre both on the couch. Youâre straddling his lap, his hands sliding under your shirt as the two of you make out.
As much as Harry had surprised you, Jason surprises you even more by suddenly coming home and walking right into the living room.
Harry notices him first, and in an effort to save this interaction he pushes you off of him, luckily managing to shift you to the open spot next to him on the couch.
Thereâs a moment of oppressively awkward silence as Jason stares at the two of you, speechless. Without saying a word he walks to the mud room and grabs the diaper bag that had clearly been left behind earlier.
As he passes through the room to leave he says, âYou are adults. Just- donât be stupid. There are enough kids in this house already.â
Without waiting for a reply he leaves the house. After another moment you and Harry break into nervous laughter.
The mood is pretty much ruined but you still have a nice night watching a movie together. Harry stays with you but has to leave at lunchtime the next day.
That afternoon Jason knocks on your bedroom door, asking if he can talk for a minute.
âSure, whatâs up?â You say, not expecting the conversation that follows.
âI just wanted to ask how things are going between you and Harry,â he says.
âOh! Good! Yea, things are going well. I really like him,â you answer.
âAnd youâre being safe?â
âOh my god, Jason! We are not having this conversation,â you say as your cheeks warm at the implication.
âWell youâre living in my house, I just, you know. I feel responsible for your well being.â
âIâm safe. Very safe. You donât have to worry.â You hope your words will convince him to drop the topic.
âAnd you trust him? Cause I mean, heâs a big time Popstar. Bet heâs broken a fair number of hearts before.â
You find yourself needing to defend Harry and ask, âHave you had this conversation with Travis about Taylor?â
âFair point,â he concedes. âI just donât want you getting hurt. Youâre sure about him?â
âI am.â
âOkay then. Thatâs what matters. Iâm only looking out for you.â
âI know. But Harry and I are happy. I promise.â
With that smoothed over, the next few weeks continue drama free.
And then comes Christmas.
Due to scheduling, Harry had yet to meet Travis. Youâve talked to your brother about him, and you know Travis has talked about all of this with Taylor. So while youâve been told that itâs no big deal that your boyfriend and your brotherâs girlfriend are exes, youâre still a bit nervous for Christmas dinner.
Itâs a late meal, since you have to wait for Travis to get there after the Chiefs vs Ravens game, and you spend the afternoon entertaining your nieces and helping prepare the food.
Finally Travis and Taylor arrive, and for a moment you canât help but feel self conscious. The room is full of NFL players and international pop stars. You excuse yourself to the kitchen for a moment to collect yourself. When you walk back to the living room, Harry greets you with the biggest smile, and those feelings of self doubt melt away. Because those big accomplishments and accolades arenât what matter to him. What he cares about is how kind you are, how fun and loving you are. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your head and you blush knowing your whole family is watching.
But looking up at them you see nothing but support. Your mom is practically glowing seeing all her children with their significant others, and quickly organizes a family picture.
It takes some time to get all three of the little girls to cooperate, and by the time the photo is taken, dinner is ready.
There is something surreal at seeing Harry and Taylor pass the potatoes or bread basket, never having imagined this is how your life would turn out.
But that night, as you all agree to break the internet by posting the family picture, you know you wouldnât want it any other way.
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AN: I wrote the first half of this as the Eagles lost to the Commanders, thus breaking a 10 game win streak soooo that was a bummer.
I wrote the ending after watching the Eagles beat the Cowboys, so at least that turned back around!
I think this may be the silliest thing Iâve ever written.
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I won't ever forgive Johnny Sims for the decisions that he made for episodes 161 and 162. It was genius and absolutely gut wrenching.
Back in the first few seasons, when we first started listening to the podcast, we were not that invested in the characters yet- Tim, Sasha and Martin only started appearing on tape midway through season one. They all had little tid bits here and there, and both Martin and Sasha had what- A single episode or two dedicated to them?
So, losing Sasha back then was not as devastating as it could have been. We did not know her as a person. We did not get the time to be attached to the characters yet. Her death's purpose, for us, was to cement the actual horror of the podcast, the fact that a person believed to be part of the main cast had simply died, in a situation she could not have prevented- Her death set the stakes, as well as introduced the Not!Them properly to us.
By the time we lost Tim, we only remembered him as a bitter and angry man. We had spent the majority of the show with a Tim that had fallen into a deep, deep depression, and that version of Tim is the version we knew. Once again, his cheery attitude was only there during season 1 and the few times we'd hear him in season 2, and even then the bitterness had started to settle.
Now, as we listened to the first two episodes of season 5, bracing for the worst, bracing for the apocalypse and the screams of terror and yells and arguments, we instead get hit with Jon's Birthday tape from before the show even started. We listen as we get to hear Sasha and Tim again at the same time Jon does, we then get insights on how they were as people, how happy they used to be, their goals, their ambitions, their relationship and friendship and how it could have grown, and we mourn them.
Now that we are fully invested into the show, we are forced to go through the grief we had managed to avoid the first time around. We are forced to mourn Sasha, to wish she had stuck around, to wish we had more time to simply know her.
We are forced to mourn Tim, his pre-depression self, we wish it could have gone differently, that he had appeared on tape just a little more.
It's just that, a gut-punch, a "Hah, you thought you were safe four seasons ago? Back when you first lost Sasha? Well fuck you, cry now. Realize. Bitch."
God I love this show
#That's without even taking into account how a lot of us didn't realize Sasha was dead at first!!!#the magnus archives#magpod#tma#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#jarchivist#timothy stoker#sasha james#tma martin#tma tim#tma sasha#soakie's thoughts#text post
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what do you think about the boys in the context of the state of the world? From what I've seen, you're a very reasonable and kind person, so I doubt they'd be on the wrong side of history. Do you see your creations as an act of protest in itself? Your characters are very unapologetically themselves, and youve tackled a lot of hard topics in very tasteful ways! a lot of ASMR artists(is that the right term?) seem to follow a lot of more toxic trends and roles for their characters, mostly pertaining to the prevalence of toxic masculinity. Your stories are the direct opposite of that, and I just think it's a really nice change in pace! All the love, happy early bday!
I feel like Evalas and the associated content will be a pretty loud answer for this, so I'll not go too in depth, but uh yeah I think they'd probably be pissed off right now. Because I am. đ
Not that they're a bunch of saints. I just think you don't have to be pristine to recognize injustice, betrayal, and wickedness.
I have never been a "this is a space for escapism so I won't denounce evil ppl because what if evil ppl are giving me money" type of creator. I think my work makes some pretty clear statements about love and acceptance that in theory (unfortunately not always in practice) should go hand in hand with those opposed to vile bullshit.
For me, all art is political, and to strip the thing you make of any critique, inspiration, or experience is to simply strip the soul from the collection of noises and shapes you make.
I won't like...headcanon my way through how each character might feel in today's current events, but I know for sure they'd feel shame and embarrassment. I just recently traveled out of country for the first time in a long time and it really helps to get that outside perspective and see how varied and different other places are.
I'll spare you the rant I deleted that followed that, but essentially I wanted to stress that what is happening right now in America is not normal and should alarm everyone. Not to fear monger, but to look you in the eyes and say yes you are seeing what you are seeing. They are doing what they're doing. We are unfortunately standing at the precipice of great and terrifying change, and the best thing I can think to do right now is to tell anyone and everyone who will listen that they have been lied to. They have tested our complacency again and again, and if we just let it happen, I fear we cannot unfuck this.
Under no circumstances should the richest man in the world be holding court in the oval office or be granted executive oversight of government institutions. From the dawn of time we have told stories about corruption and wickedness. Cautionary tales of good versus evil are inherent to humanity.
If we can no longer recognize these things for what they are, we are well and truly lost. And that is a remarkable tragedy. In time, history will wonder how this could have happened...or we will rally, and turn back the tide. There are people who have been deceived, and we are at a point where we can't take a victory lap or be petty. Being right doesn't mean shit when there's this much at stake.
Maybe this sounds overblown to you. Dramatic. I wish it was the case, but this isn't like last time. At all. So don't put your head in the sand and hide. Have conversations. Share your concerns. Don't shut yourself in. Don't let the emotionally charged debate topics distract from the plain and obvious. Evil shit is happening and the structures in place to protect us are being dismantled for the gain of the most powerful people in the world. Fuck whatever hot button politicized bullshit your drunk uncle won't shut the fuck up about, when did he sign off on licking Putin's boots? Have that conversation instead of indulging in the bullshit and maybe we can win back some folks who've fallen into the nonsense vortex of podcast topics to get upset about. That's step one.
Well I spared you one rant and offered up another. Oops. đ
I don't want to leave you with doom and gloom so I'll say this. Humanity can be very cold and calloused. Through our history we've done really fucked up shit, and turned a blind eye when things shouldn't sit right in your soul. I believe that if you carry the torch of hope and love you can ignite that in others. We are capable of incredible feats of love, just like we are hate, and if we can set aside our anger and bitterness long enough to reignite hope among our families and communities...we win. Those hearts are not out of reach. I won't believe we live in a world where hate cannot be overcome with love and compassion.
If you've been failed by those who should stand by you, support you, and love you, I beg you to not let your heart grow cold. There is so much more to hope for than that brokenness. Don't be overcome with fear and anger, but wield it as righteous passion and find your voice.
Whew. That's a proper yap session. You'd never guess most folks just wanna hear me moan. đ
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I feel powerful now...... anyway i want to potato and bitch Nephite's creepy brother
-đ„
i have never once imagined cotton as a hot guy. i literally set up another different hot boy!!! the pastor's son!!! he's an omega waiting to be revealed and disgraced smh.... but noooo you want cotton the creepy alpha bro podcast listener.
cw;; drugs, noncon, castration, forced fem, abuse, amputation, dead dove
anyway imagine catching cotton trying something with nephite. either trying to kidnap him to give to his friend or just trying to hurt him. you save nephite and he asks you to leave cotton alone they're family after all. but no. you're sick of this guy being a total creep to his brother and giving you dirty looks and just being a bitch. you promise not to hurt him just teach him a lesson.
nephite helps you lock him in the basement and he has no idea what exactly you're doing when you go down there just that you're really not hurting him. instead you're pumping him full of drugs. aphrodisiacs, estrogen, medicine specifically designed for bitching. you even get someone from the city to help you castrate the new omega. you assume the process of completely changing him into a pretty little omega will break his ego.
unfortunately he manages to escape. that's fine. for an alpha there's nothing more fun than playing predator to a scared little omega. he really thinks he'll get away, he really thinks he's still an alpha. so when you catch him you don't say anything, don't even mock him before your cock is buried in his cunt. you mate him hard and rough like the real alphas he idolizes, taking what's yours and painting his insides with your cum. when he takes your knot and his body cums it finally breaks his will. he accepts that he's your omega. unfortunate that's too late.
you get your doctor friend to come back and remove all his limbs so he can never think about running away again. you dress him up in a nice new dress and show him what he's become in the mirror. he's exactly what an omega should be.
you reintroduce him to your lovely wife. you explain to nephite that his brother actually always wanted to be an omega, he asked for your help to turn him into the ideal omega with the limbs removed and all. cotton's ideal omega atleast. you apologize for claiming him without nephite's permission but he just begged you to. some part of him hoped that when nephite was alone with him he could ask for help, get out of there, get his life back. he didn't realize his younger brother was also deranged. nephite beat his defenseless body half to death for trying to steal you away before you stopped him, like you knew what he was doing the whole time.
cotton improved your marriage. he gave your wife the freedom to say no or simply get cuddles and kisses because you would use cotton's body like a toy whenever you wanted, relentless and loveless as you fucked him. and nephite had a punching bag for all his anger at anything, the cult, other omegas, very very occasionally you. he would beat his brother bloody with a terror that cotton hadn't known he possessed and then nephite would come back with you smiling and bubbly as he apologized for hurting your toy.
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the foxes : random headcanons (because i need to let it all out somewhere)
âą Renee & Matt are both huge fans of atla and the pjo series. Dan likes it as well but not as much as they do. They also tried to convince Allison to watch it with them and despite saying itâs ânot her thingâ she really likes it.
âą Renee keeps her own garden. Mostly plants and flowers though. She tries for some veggies as well but they never grow right
âą At some point, Andrew would stop smoking completely. The withdrawals are crazy and heâs cranky as hell through the whole thing but yeah.
âą Renee would definitely love visiting churches and cathedrals in different countries. Not only cuz sheâs religious but also because she loves the architecture and art a lot.
âą also also Renee would keep the coolest looking patterned stuff. Fox shaped & cat paw carved ceramic mugs, knitted sweaters with a lot of patchworks and so on.
âą Renee taught Neil ASL. For no particular reason just that itâs a good thing to know. After that she also tried teaching some of the other foxes but mostly just the basics.
⹠Kind of surprise to everyone, Aaron would be really good at chess. Neil and Matt on the other hand⊠very much not. He sometimes has chess matches with Kevin but Kev always loses which genuinely drives him mad.
âą Aaron knows latin- not just the medical terms that med students have to know but like the language. So you bet that whenever someone gets him angry he starts to yap at them in latin just to make a point of some sort.
âą Andrew would like those old/retro gameboys
âą Andrew always beats everyone in mario kart with Nicky often being either close second or complete last - no in between.
âą Nicky is the #1 pancake maker. He was kind of awful at it at first but after many many tries he perfected it for the twins
âą Kev is also the #1 cook in healthy but completely flavourless prison-looking meals (though it is not his fault. i blame the nest.)
âą if the foxes would ever have escape room night best believe Neil would be the first to figure it out and in record time as well.
âą Kevin is a mosquito magnet and wonât stop complaining about itâŠlike ever. (had to google synonym for bitching btw)
âą to fight off the âeboy Andrewâ allegations im fighting back with âabsolute loser Andrewâ where he wears too big sweaters, reading glasses, has crooked teeth, and searches through different cryptid or internet mysteries- related sites for too long (âŠprojecting but still)
âą Neil hates coffee. his favorite tea is peppermint or earl grey.
âą the monsters watch cartoons in the morning if they donât have classes i said what i said
âą Neil definitely got into photography (or sketching or both) at some point. there is just something so symbolic about that i just canât wire up my brain rn to figure out why.
âą Kevin listens to podcasts instead of music while working out because he is simply that type. sigh
ok im done
#aftg#all for the game#nora sakavic#andrew minyard#neil josten#renee walker#allison reynolds#nicky hemmick#matt boyd#aaron minyard#kevin day#dan wilds#andreil#aftg headcanon
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Part 2 (Cat Man Do)
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Seconding Pairings: Foggy Nelson x Marci Stahl, implied Karen Page x Frank Castle Word Count: 11,000 Summary: It is a day of discovery for you. Warning(s): Swearing, sexual fantasies, referenced masturbation, kissing, dirty talk, referenced marking/hickies, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V sex, referenced oral sex (male receiving), referenced animal abuse (not graphic) Series Masterlist Matt Murdock/Daredevil Masterlist General Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @indestructeible, @what-i-call-men, @reblog-reblog666, @flynnethenerd, @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment, @yarrystyleeza, @bellaxgiornata, @reluctanthalfwayofoptimism, @bluerobin35 Also posted on AO3
Cat Man Do
Part 2 of 2
âAnd thatâs the last of it,â you said to yourself as you put the last of the dishes into the drying rack. While you dried off your hands, you did a quick survey of your handiwork. The apartment was now back to its normal state of relative tidiness. The only remaining mess was the nest of blankets that Trouble had burrowed himself into and presumably napping it.
It had been tempting to peek. Very tempting. But you knew yourself. If you did that, you wouldnât be able to resist petting him. Then you would probably give into the urge to see if he liked any of the cat toys you still had . . . then boom, the housework would be completely forgotten.
It wasnât that you hated housework. It was just boring. Which made any number of procrastinating distractions rather appealing. Listening to music or podcast on your phone usually helped. Singing along with your favorite songs or learned something interesting made it feel like the dull but necessary work wasnât taking so long. Thought you had to avoid certain ones while doing housework because sometimes they got you arguing with the people in the magic box instead of doing what you were supposed to. Like ironing your work clothes . . .
Other days, your brain decided to turn whatever was coming out of your phone into white noise and simply daydreamed. Today was one of those days. Fortunate for getting your work done, those daydreams stayed innocent. Imaging Matt having his way with you on your kitchen table, for example, would have been rather distracting. Case in point, even just the thought of that fantasy was making you squirm.
Keeping them sweet didnât prevent Matt from taking the staring role. Far from it. Which was embarrassing for all different reasons. It was one thing to have sexual fantasies about an attractive man. Picturing that same man saying three little words with that deeply fond smile on his face had different implications.
Implications that made you feel stupid. You knew falling in love with your boss was a bad idea. The king of bad ideas. Mousy secretary falls in love with her incredibly attractive boss is the premise for a romance novel, not a recipe for true love forever. You were going to get your heart broken. Probably not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.
You werenât looking forward to it. Watching women hit on him already felt like a knife to your heart. Watching while he meet someone else and fall in love with them was going to be agony. Assuming you stayed around to watch. Which you likely wouldnât do. You werenât that much of masochist.
The worst part was that you wanted Matt to find his special someone. The person who would make him laugh and help him find joy. Someone who would comfort him when he was sad, take care of him when he was sick. For him to know that someone loved him, that they wanted to stay forever . . . you wanted that for him.
Maybe it was selfish but you just wished that special someone was you.
You knew it was unlikely. Matt had never stated an interest in you beyond friendship. Yes, he flirted. But Matt flirted with everyone. And yes, you had gone on all those outings with him. But those were friend outings, not dates. And yes, on those occasions when Matt asked him to guide him, it seemed like he was reluctant to let go of your arm afterward. Or how he kept holding your hands after they had gotten warmed up after forgetting your gloves last week, only dropping them when the office phone rang . . .
But he never said anything. Sometimes it seem liked he might. Moments where he said he had something to tell you, something that he wanted to ask, that seem like maybe . . . then nothing. Either the universe intervene â phone calls, fire alarm, sudden loud argument between two food truck drivers â or it wouldnât be exactly what you were hoping for. Like asking if you would be his plus-one at some fancy party being thrown by Columbia Law alum next weekend. That wasnât a date. It was just practical since he and Foggy had only gotten their invitations to said party this week . . . It was a very deliberate snub considering Marci had received hers month ago . . .
Granted, you hadnât said anything to him either. In part because you wanted to avoid ruining what you already had. You genuinely liked being Mattâs friend. You valued that relationship and didnât want to lose it. Or make things incredibly awkward. But big part of it was simply that you werenât ready to hear âIâm flattered but . . .â
Youâd probably never be ready. Because no matter how kindly someone tries to let you down, rejection always stung . . .
âEnough moping,â you told yourself sternly. You had a mystery to explore.
But first you were going to check on Trouble. He had been rather quiet. Too quiet. He might simply be asleep but your experience said that sometimes the too quiet cat was a cat getting into mischief. You walked over to the blanket cocoon and peeled back the layers until you found the lithe, brown form. A pair of yellow-green eyes blinked sleepily at you. You couldnât resist. There were few things cuter than a drowsy cat. You reached over and started lightly scratching behind the ears. Trouble purred and bumped his head more firmly into your hands.
âHey there, sleepy kitty,â you said. âEnjoy your nap?â
He made one of those trilling noises which only made your smile grow. And encouraged you to keep petting him. Which wasnât a hardship.
âYour coat is so soft, Trouble,â you said. âFeels like velvet.â
Like your new dress, the one you had let Marci and Karen talked you into buying for the fancy party. You hadnât intended to buy anything when you accompanied them to the stops. You had fully intended to just wear one of the dresses you already owned. But then you saw it.
A pretty black dress made of velvet that looked like it was your size. Curious, you had checked. It was. Moreover, it was marked off enough to within your limited budget. Which made it very tempting. A temptation that Marci enthusiastically enabled. Come on, at least see how it fits . . .
It fit perfectly, hugging your curves just right. Offered tantalizing glimpses of skin without showing off more than you were comfortable with. You had felt beautiful wearing it. Which meant Marci and Karen didnât have to push very hard to convince you to buy it. Karen sweetened the deal by reminding you that Matt loved velvet. And that maybe feeling so pretty would give you the confidence boost you needed to tell him how you felt.
Something that both Karen and Marci seemed very certain would be received well. You werenât nearly so sure but you brought the dress.
In the name of making you feel as pretty and confident as possible, Karen and Marci decided you also needed new shoes and underwear. When you objected that you couldnât afford to do that, Marci countered that she would pay. Which was why you were now the proud owner of a pair of heels that cost a frankly ridiculous amount of money. Because when Marci decided to treat someone, she didnât believe in going cheap.
The underwear set had been more reasonably priced but still seemed like a lot for a bra and panties. Even if they were made of high quality silk and lace. But they had looked good on you too and Karen had asked you to imagine if everything went well and the night ended with your dress on Mattâs bedroom floor . . .
You didnât know what had flustered you more. Your own imagination or that evil, knowing grin on Karenâs face or Marci supplying lewd details of Mattâs sexual prowess. Not from her own experience but she knew people who had slept with him. People whose stories she trusted to be accurate.
Karen insisted that the underwear had to be dark red. Saying with a mysterious smile that Matt would find it hot. Which just confused you. For obvious reasons, purely visual elements like color didnât hold any appeal for Matt . . .
âWhy?â you mused out loud. But since Karen wasnât here to pester, your only answer was a questioning meow from Trouble. Which probably had more to do with you getting so lost in your head that you had stopped petting him than anything else.
âSorry, Trouble,â you said, resuming the pets. âGot distracted. Trying to figure out why Karen thinks Matt would find me wearing red silk underwear sexy.â
Trouble made the strangest sound you had ever heard from a cat. Like he couldnât decide which cat noise to make and kept switching tracks part-way through each one. If he had been human, you would have said he was sputtering.
It was such a funny reaction that you couldnât help giggling.

Mattâs current form prevented him from blushing. Which he supposed he should be thankful for. His sputtering already had you giggling. He could only imagine your reaction to seeing his cheeks go what he had been told was a lovely shade of dusty pink.
What was Karen up to? Telling you something like that?!
The fact that it was true was immaterial. Now he would have fantasies about running his hands over your curves, feeling your petal soft skin encased in silk . . . and the idea of you wearing Daredevil red immensely pleased that possessive streak that ran deep inside him . . .
But he didnât need help coming up with impure thoughts about you. He already spent far too much time touching himself while imaging you spread out on his bed, exploring every inch with his hands and mouth, the sounds of your pleasure filling his ears . . . Fantasies that were going to be a lot more vivid now that he knew exactly what those noises sounded like and just how sweet your arousal tasted . . . even if tasting it from the air was a poor substitute for tasting it directly from the source . . .
Matt shook himself. He shouldnât be thinking about that.

You turned your attention toward your pack and the mystery inside it. You moved the pack over to the couch and started pulling out the suit.
The red color was brighter than you expected, dark scarlet instead of the maroon it had looked under the dim light of your flashlight. The webbing between panels wasnât black either. It was a deep, deep red that almost black. Like those really good cherries that you loved but could never remember what they were called. It was was just as heavy as you remembered, with the heft that reminded you of an old friendâs bulletproof vest. But more flexible . . . actually, looking at all of the webbing interwoven into it, youâd guess a lot more.
âIt seems Daredevil is a bendy vigilante,â you mused outloud. âProbably not as bendy as Spider-Man but that guy is made out of silly-putty. Or at least his spine is.â
The suit was a little scuffed but otherwise looked fine. No holes, rips, or tears that you could find. No visible blood . . . you sniffed. You couldnât smell any blood either. Just sweat. Something clean that you recognized as saddle soap. The fainter odor of plain soap along with something very familiar.
âHuh,â you said, eyeing the suit. âDaredevil and Matt wear the same cologne. Small world.â
Next, you checked the pouches on the belt. There werenât that many. They contained a prepaid cell phone that you set aside to look at more closely later, zip ties, fold-up cash, and business cards. Curious, you shuffled through the cards. Nelson & Murdock, Alias Investigations, Chikara Dojo, FEAST, Helping Hands . . . . Each business or charity was separated by paper clips or rubber bands.
âCurious,â you murmured, wondering why . . . maybe he just didnât want to spend time shuffling through them looking for a particular one? Or didnât think he would always have time to do that? Maybe he had folded up the cash for the same reason. As long as he remembered how each card was bundled or bill folded, he could get out the right one without looking at them.
You turned your attention to the phone but was immediately stymied. The phone refused to turn on. It didnât look broken. Which probably meant that it needed to be charged. Guess you werenât the only one who forgot to put their phone on the charger. Or maybe Daredevil used a phone while fighting crime a lot more than anyone would expect. You grumbled as you got off the couch. You werenât sure if your charger would work with this phone. Thankfully it did but the batteries were practically dead. Investigating the phone would have to wait.
In the meantime, you inspected the helmet. It was the same color as the suit but not the same materials, something more rigid. But it seemed to be in good shape. You couldnât see or feel any cracks. You traced the edge of the characteristic horns and mask. You were unable to resist to urge to put the helmet on your own head. It probably looked ridiculous. There was nothing superhero about your oversized tee shirt featuring a gray cat calling itself âpurr-fectâ and sweat pants. But you were curious. What did the world look like to the Devil of Hellâs Kitchen?
The answer was very red. You had expected a reddish tint from the color of the lenses. But it was more intense than you expected. It was also less . . . clear than you would have thought. The lenses werenât opaque â you could see through them. But tinted dark like a pair of sunglasses.
âOdd,â you said, wondering why Daredevil had what was effectively sunglasses built into his helmet. It seemed peculiar. Especially for a vigilante that operated almost exclusively at night. And had a known habit of cutting lights to places before going in. The consensus in the hero forums was that Daredevil must be able to see in the dark. But, you frowned, even the best night vision still needed some light . . . even nocturnal animals couldnât see in total darkness . . .
âIf he has superhuman night vision,â you thought outloud, pulling off the helmet. âMaybe his eyes are really light sensitive?â
Trouble meowed loudly. It sounded almost like a no.
âVetoing that theory, Trouble?â You asked, glancing over at him. He had crawled out of the blanket cocoon and was doing the big stretch. Which, by the rules of cat companions everywhere, you had to comment on. âOhhh, big stretch!â
He meowed again. You laughed. It was almost like he was answering you.
You smiled and shook your head. Despite Troubleâs rejection, the theory was plausible. Someone whose eyes worked very well at low light could very well be someone that found bright light painful. And while he worked at night, New York City wasnât all that dark after sundown. Nowhere near as dark as it was out in the forest.
Granted, Hellâs Kitchen was darker at night than most of the city. Streets lights and other sources of lighting that had gotten damaged in the Incident still hadnât been repaired or replaced. Somehow there was never enough money in the budget. At least not for something like street lights. Some of the landlords were similarly disinclined. Others had died during the aforementioned alien invasion and similar attacks on the city. And many of those estates were a byzantine nightmare of disputed wills, shell companies, and other assorted legal headaches.
You knew this because Nelson & Murdock was one of the many laws firms attempting untangle this particular Gordian knot. The progress had been slow and uneven. Matt and Foggy had muttered many unkind words about property law, estate law, the lawyers involved in creating this mess, and especially the lawyers trying to keep the knot intact because the mess benefited their clients . . . which yes, was their job. But they didnât have be so smug about it . . .
The color of the lenses was another question mark. Why red? Then you remembered something you had read . . . red lenses or red lights helped people kept their eyes dark adapted or helped them adjust to low-light conditions quicker. Of course that little nugget had been discovered during a romp through Wikipedia Wonderland. So massive grain of salt . . .
Of course, it could simply be aesthetics. It fit with the Devil theme. You imagined that seeing the sudden glint of those red lenses from out of the shadows would be quite intimidating.
âOr maybe he just likes red,â you muttered to yourself, putting the helmet down on the coffee table.
You drummed your fingers against your thigh, staring at the suit . . . why? Why would Daredevil abandon his suit and (possibly) walk into the night wearing (possibly) only whatever was under the suit?
âWhich couldnât be much,â you mused, your face flushing at the thought. Most images of the Devil of Hellâs Kitchen were either low-quality, out-of-focus, or too shadowy to make out much. But from what you could tell, the suit was close-fitting. No much room for anything but him in there. Or nothing at all. Which was an idea that made your flush worse.
Matt might have been the leading man in your fantasies but he wasnât the only one to appear. You had entertained thoughts about Daredevil. Very dirty thoughts. Which was really saying something considering some of the ones involving Matt . . . but there was just something about the vigilante that could made you feel feral.
You had the feeling that those fantasies were about to get more vivid. Because now, you knew what the suit looked like up close. What it felt like under your hands. Granted what it felt like without Daredevil actually in it. Which was, if you were being perfectly honest, a little disappointing. You might be carrying the torch for Matt but that didnât stop other men from being attractive. Or your mind from idly (and somewhat guiltily) wondering if Daredevilâs suit struggled to contain his muscles the same way Mattâs suits struggled to contain his . . .
Something touched your thigh. You jumped before realizing it was just Trouble putting one of his paws on your leg. Probably looking for attention. You reached down to start petting him, scratching him behind the ears. Which he seemed to enjoy, purring as he crawled onto your lap. You were easily tempted away from your mystery.
âYouâre a total lap cat, arenât you?â you asked. Your only answer was louder purring.
You were starting to feel almost sleepy, sitting here with a purring cat in your lap. Especially on a day like this, gray and unusually quiet for New York. Which made the notification chime from your phone inordinately loud. Checking it required disturbing Trouble. Which he made very clear that he didnât like.
âI know, I know, you were comfortable,â you said, checking the notifications. Mostly text messages from friends and family making sure you were okay. You had just sent off a couple of replies when you caught something out of the corner of your eye.
Looking away from your phone, you peered at the suit. What . . . oh. There was something inside the crumpled suit, a bit of fabric peeking out. Curious, you sat down your phone and touched it. Silk. You gave it a gentle tug and the cloth came out.
Immediately, you felt your face flush again. It was underwear. Specifically a pair of menâs black boxers. Black silk boxers. The Devil of Hellâs Kitchen wore black silk boxers. For reasons you couldnât really explain, this made you giggle.
The universe was a peculiar place. One where a blind defense attorney and a vigilante had interesting things in common. They both liked silk. They wear the same cologne. And estimating from the suit, Daredevil and Matt were the same height and had a similar build.
And apparently knew a lot of the same people. Matt carried a lot of the same business cards, personally knew the owners. Though you were a little unclear on how he had met some of them. Jessica Jones, you could see. She lived and worked in Hellâs Kitchen and her zero-tolerance policy for assholes often got her trouble with the cops. But the others were less clear . . . It didnât help that when you had asked, the story you had gotten had been rather vague.
It wasnât the only story where Matt, Foggy, and Karen got evasive. Another sign that there were secrets in the office of Nelson & Murdock. And not the normal client-confidentiality type secrets . . .
Glancing back at the suit, you noticed something else. Something you couldnât believe you had missed. It didnât look like it had been stripped off. None of the zippers or other fasteners were undone. You frowned, looking closely at it again. How could he have gotten it off without undoing any of the fasteners?
All thoughts of Daredevil were driven out of your head when Trouble let out a pained yowl. You snapped your head up to see him fall off the couch, writhing and twisting like he was having a seizure. You rushed toward him but then something weird happened. Trouble began to grow and swell, becoming bigger and bigger . . . body twisting and jerking the entire time . . . until what was laying on your floor wasnât a cat. It was a man.
A very familiar man. Matt Murdock lay there, his body still twitching and spasming. His chest heaved and his forehead was beaded with sweat.
You couldnât believe your own eyes. Had that really just happened? You pinched yourself. It hurt. So not a dream. You reached out and touched Mattâs shoulder. It was solid and warm under your hand. The muscles still twitching from . . . whatever that was. But gradually the twitching stopped and the tension in Mattâs jaw eased.
âSorry,â he said. His voice was strained. âDidnât want you to find out this way.â
Find out what? That he turned into a cat? Or . . . you looked at the suit. Then it clicked. All of the pieces suddenly made sense. Matt was Daredevil. The suit didnât look like it had been stripped off because it hadnât. The person wearing it had merely gotten much, much smaller.
âYouâre Daredevil?â you asked, just to be sure.
âYes.â
âAnd you turn into a cat?â you asked. You hoped not. He was a very cute cat but that transformation had looked like hideously painful.
His lips twitched into something like a smile. âNot usually. This was the first time.â
âOkay,â you said. You took a deep breath. Than another. Your boss was Daredevil. He had been turned into a cat. You had taken him to your apartment. He might have observed you having a dirty dream about him. This was fine. You were fine. Everything was fine.
Another breath. âExpected development?â
âNo. Magic spell. I think.â
âMagic spell?â you repeated. âLike actual magic? You know, nevermind. Of course, magic is real. Why the hell not? We were invaded by aliens. There is a Norse God living uptown. Why wouldnât magic be real?!â
You were babbling. But you couldnât help it. It didnât help that Matt was really smiling now. With the dimple and everything. Which had always left you flustered. Especially when combined with that fond look. Even if it almost immediately faded to something sober and tentative.
âLet me sit up and Iâll explain everything.â
âOkay,â you said. But as he started to push himself into a sitting position, you noticed something. Something that left you even more flustered. Matt was naked. Completely naked. Not a single stitch on him. You could see his . . . everything. Feeling your cheeks burn, you jerked back and whirled around to face the wall.
âSweetheart?â
You felt your heart beat faster at the pet name. He had never called you that before. At work, he was entirely professional. And when you were at Josieâs or an outing, he just called you by your name.
âClothes,â you said, feeling little frantic. You needed answers â to so many things â but you couldnât have that conversation with him while he was naked. You would get . . . distracted. But none of your clothes would fit him . . . wait, the boxers! Where . . . you looked . . . there!
You scurried forward and snatched the boxers off the floor. Keeping your eyes firmly on his face, you went and dropped the underwear into what you hoped was his lap. âYour boxers. This isnât a naked conversation.â
A soft huff of laughter. âNo, it isnât. Thank you, sweetheart.â
Sweetheart again? It wasnât a slip of the tongue? Your cheeks couldnât get any warmer but they sure tried.
You turned away again to give him some privacy while he dressed. For a given value of dressed. Considering it was only underwear. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt and tried not to think about that. Or his . . . everything. You had limited success.
âIâm decent. You can look now.â
âThatâs debatable,â you thought after you turned to face him. Yes, everything that needed covering was now covered. But the boxers fit him snugly enough that very little was left to the imagination. Not that you really needed your imagination anymore . . . . And that wasnât even taking into account the rest of him.
You had known he had muscles. You just hadnât realized he had quite so many muscles . . .

Matt realized that you had gotten distracted when it took a couple of times calling your name to get your attention. He was well aware that you were attracted to him but it was still gratifying to his ego to experience your bodyâs reaction to him. And the way the temperature and blood shifted to your face when you realized that you had been caught staring was rather cute.
But he soon sobered, remembering what you had just discovered. What he needed to explained. âDo you remember how I lost my eyesight?â
âI remember,â you said.
âThose chemicals didnât just blind me,â he said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He squared his shoulders, bracing himself for your inevitable reaction. Then he explained how his remaining senses had been enhanced to a superhuman degree. How he could hear everything happening around him, for several blocks. Further if he was focusing on someone he was familiar with. How he could very likely find Foggy, Karen, or you anywhere in this city if he needed to.
That his other senses were just as keen. Did his best to describe his world on fire. The others had poked fun of his metaphor but it was the best one he had found. He felt the usual frustration at not having the right words, the perfect words, to describe how he experienced the world. Words that help someone else understand his world without the misconceptions.
But such words didnât seem to exist. He had to make do with the ones he had.
He took another deep breath, continuing in a very firm voice. âMy senses do not change the fact that I cannot see. There are things my senses cannot tell me. Like what color anything is. Times when my world on fire isnât as reliable as I would like such as when Iâm tired or ill. My cane and other adaptive equipment arenât props. Iâm not pretending to be blind. I am blind.â
âSomeone actually said that to you?â you said, sounding shocked. It was the first time you had spoken when he had started talking.
âYes,â he said, trying not to remember how Foggy had spit out those words. Hardly the most painful thing that had been said that awful night . . . but the clear disgust in his voice had stayed with Matt for a long time . . .
âWho?â you demanded, your heartbeat sharply rising. He heard the shift of bone and muscle as your hands curled into fists. It was sweet that your first reaction was defend him. If it was completely unnecessary.
âDoesnât matter,â Matt said, waving it off. âThey didnât really understand the explanation at first. Neither of us were in the right head space for the conversation. Weâve talked more since then and now they get it. And they apologized for that particular misunderstanding.â

You sighed.
You werenât entirely surprised. Matt tended to be forgiving. Along with a rather concerning habit of ignoring or downplaying things when he was the one being treated poorly . . . And, as you silently reminded yourself, you didnât know the whole story. That wouldnât make what they said okay but it might make it understandable . . .
Regardless the decision to forgive or not to forgive was ultimately Mattâs, not yours. And he had obviously chosen to forgive whoever it was. Best to let it go and change the subject.
âDo you want some coffee?â you asked. âOr something else to drink?â
That bit of gravel in his voice might do all sorts of tingly stuff to your insides but he had been talking for a while. His mouth must be getting dry.
âAs long you are making it anyway, coffee would be great,â Matt said.
âComing right up,â you said and went into the kitchen. As you set up the coffee to brew, you did your best to process anything you had just learned.
Matt was Daredevil. It explained a lot. Foggy and Karen certainly knew. It was the only explanation for why they went along with Mattâs very obvious lies about how he had been injured. And why they didnât seem . . . well, you couldnât say that there was no concern. You had seen the pinched look of Foggyâs face when Matt was moving like it hurt him to breath. The worried, accessing look Karen gave particularly colorful bruises.
And yet, they had accepted every single one of his excuses from the plausible to the silly without question. Told you there was nothing to worry about when you expressed concern about Mattâs well-being. Even through sometimes neither looked like they really believed that . . .
Now you realized that they were concerned. It was just a different kind of concerned. Because they werenât wondering how Matt kept getting hurt. They werenât racking their brains trying to figure out who was hurting him or if all those worrying signs were related to some kind of health problem. Like maybe he was having seizures or something like that but was refusing to see the doctor . . .
But every theory you came up with kept hitting the wall for not being able to explain why Foggy and Karen didnât seem to share your concerns. Why they clearly loved Matt but ignored that something troubling was obviously going on with him. . . . It hadnât made any sense.
Now it did. Matt was Daredevil. They knew he was Daredevil. And knew his injuries were from fighting crime.
Matt had super senses. Which meant, you realized with a certain amount of horror, he had absolutely heard you moaning his name while touching yourself this morning. You buried your face in your hands with a soft groan. There was no hiding your non-platonic feelings anymore. The cat was out of the bag. Pun fully intended.
âWhatâs wrong?â
You jumped. You werenât expecting his voice to be so close. He wasnât crowding you or anything. His position by the edge of the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room was a couple feet away from where you were standing in front of the coffee pot. But you hadnât heard him moving around. Apparently he didnât need to be cat shaped to walk silently through walls.
âSorry,â he said, though the little twitch of his lips belied that apology. âDidnât mean to startle you.â
âSomehow,â you said, willing your heart to slow back down. âI doubt that.â
âDo you?â
âI saw those lips twitch,â you pointed out. âYou think making me jump is funny.â
âThat is quite the accusation,â he said with mock seriousness. âDo you have any evidence?â
Using his courtroom voice was cheating. Especially when he was only wearing boxers. Pure cheating. You pulled out your stubborn streak, standing with your fists on your hips. âI know what I saw. I will not be fooled by your twisty-turny lawyer tricks into saying otherwise, Mr. Murdock.â
âThat sounds like a challenge, sweetheart.â
The pet name said with that almost purring voice sent tingles down your spine. And brought renewed heat between your legs. Rather annoyingly the cocky smirk on his face did nothing to diminish that ardor. Maybe if he had been wearing more than boxers . . . or if he didnât look so good half-naked . . .
A soft cough brought you back to the present. You felt your cheeks get warm again, realizing that you had been so busy staring at his abs that you hadnât noticed him talking.
âDistracted?â he asked, a teasing grin spread wide across his face.
âNo,â you said quickly, feeling the warmth in your cheeks intensify.
He hummed, tilting his head slightly to one side. âLie.â
âWhat?â
âOh, did I forget to mention that I can tell when someone is lying?â He said, feigning innocence. It wasnât a very convincing performance. He was far too amused.
âNo, that detail hadnât come up yet,â you said. âHow?â
âMostly your heartbeat. It changes when someone is lying.â
Suddenly, something you had observed at the office now made sense. Your job was more on the reception and secretarial side but sometimes you acted as their paralegal. When acting in that role, you had seen Foggy subtly nudge Matt who would give a little shake or nod of his head. You hadnât know what to make of it at the time. Now you realized that Foggy was checking to see if their client or whoever else they were interviewing was telling the truth.
When you asked about your theory, Matt was quick to confirmed it. A moment later, the coffee finished brewing. You pulled down the two mugs, then doctored them to each of your coffee preferences.
âYou seem to be taking this rather well,â he remarked, after taking a sip of his coffee.
You shrugged. âItâs not that surprising once I started thinking about it.â
âItâs not?â
âNo.â
Matt chuckled. âWhat, you didnât believe that I got that black eye tripping over a curb?â
âNot even a little bit.â
âCome on, I thought that one was very plausible.â
âOnly for someone who doesnât know you,â you said. âOr your friends pretending for the sake of your secret identity.â
He laughed. âFair enough.â
You drank more of your coffee, enjoying the comfortable quiet. To avoid getting distracted by his half-naked body again, you kept your eyes on his face. Which probably wasnât the best plan. Mattâs handsome face was a distraction in its own right. Especially when he wasnât wearing his dark glasses. It wasnât the first time you had seen him without them but the sight always pleased you. It meant Matt trusted you. Not with all of his secrets, obviously, but enough that he didnât feel the need to hide himself.
Along with those lovely hazel eyes, there were further delights. The generous mouth, good cheekbones and that strong jaw dusted with facial hair. Heavily dusted today. He hadnât shaved lately. So he had the very start of a beard. You had never seen Matt with a beard. You bet that he would look good with one . . .
âPenny for your thoughts?â Matt said, interrupting your attempts to imagine him with a beard.
âNothing important,â you said. âJust noticed you hadnât shave lately and was idly wondering if you were growing a beard.â
Matt made a thoughtful humming sound. âIt is tempting this time of year but they get so itchy during the summer.â
âThat sounds like the voice of experience,â you said.
âIt is,â he said. âWore one for a couple years during college. Shaved it off just after starting L1.â
âAny particular reason why?â you asked, making a mental note to ask Foggy if he had any pictures of bearded Matt. You needed to see them. For science. Or something.
âAn especially muggy day in August when the air conditioners decided to stop working. And the girl I was seeing at the time liked me clean-shaven. Said my beard was too rough when I kissed her.â
A salacious grin spread across his face. âAmong other activities.â
âDid she?â you said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Because your mind had immediately become consumed with imagining the delicious contrast between prickly beard on your thigh while his soft lips . . . warmth flooded your cheeks.
You saw Mattâs nostrils flare. Then the tip of his tongue slipped out to run across his lips. He made a soft moan that went straight to your cunt. It was impossible not to get worked up. Not with those images in your head. Not with that sound. You were equally unable to stop your breath from hitching as he stepped closer. And closer, stopping just shy of touching you.
âCan I kiss you?â he asked. His voice had always done things to you but that huskier timber really made you shudder. There was only one answer you could give.
âYes.â
And he was kissing you. Gentle at first, a delicate press of the lips with your head cradled in his hands. But it didnât remain that way for long. Not after all those months of pent-up desire. Now that you didnât have to resist kissing him, you all but devoured his mouth.
Matt matched your eagerness, seemingly just hungry for your mouth as you were his. Even the need for air barely kept your lips apart. The entire world might as well have disappeared. You were aware of nothing else. Only that mouth kissing you and greedily swallowing every moan you made. Only those large, warm hands sliding down your body, skimming the sides of your breasts until coming to rest on your hips. Only his body against yours. The edge of the counter digging into your back barely even registered.
At least to you. Matt made some grumpy-sounding noise, then his hands were gripping your hips and lifting you up onto the counter. Your startled yelp turned into a moan when he slot himself between your legs. Any lingering doubts you had about him finding you physically attractive were dispelled at the feeling of his growing erection rubbing against your core. You couldnât contain a second louder, stuttered moan. Even with too many clothes in the way, it felt incredible . . .
âIf you want me to stop,â he rumbled, nuzzling your neck. âTell me to stop. Tell me no.â
âDonât stop,â you said, your voice dangerously close to begging. But you didnât care. You had wanted this for so long. âPlease donât stop.â
âI wonât, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to.â he said, then one hand abandoned its place on your hip to tug lightly at your shirt. âMay I?â
âYes, yes,â you said, rising your arms to help Matt pull off your shirt. Despite the heater chugging away, your skin still immediately pebbled. Your nipples had already tightened into peaks. You kissed him again as your shirt was tossed . . . somewhere. You werenât paying attention to your shirt. All of your attention was Matt and the hungry, almost feral look on his face.

Matt ran his hands over your body, exploring every inch of bare skin from the tips of your fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants. So soft, even softer than he had dreamed. Keeping his hands to himself the next time you were at work was going to take some serious self-discipline. He blazed a trail of kisses down your neck until he found a spot that had you shuddering.
There, he applied little nips and lathed at the skin until he was satisfied there would be a mark. One that by happy coincidence should peek out from behind the collar of your work blouses. Good. That should let any would-be suitors know that you were taken. It was selfish but he didnât want share this delightfully soft skin with anyone.
Or how responsive you were. He greedily took in all your reactions. The dancing rhythm of your heart. The breathy moans as his mouth continued its downward journey. The gasps when he started lapping at one peaked nipple while squeezing the other breast in his hand. The way you cried out his name when he latched onto that nipple and sucked. The way you arched your back, begging for more. How your nails bit into his shoulder when he obliged, swirling his tongue around the hardened nipple. The whines when he removed his mouth from that breast . . . and how it turned into a wordless cry when he gave the other breast the same attention.
Best of all, the scent of your arousal soaking through your panties. All because of him. You smelled just as sweet as you had been this morning. Only this time he wasnât a cat. Soon, he would be on his knees. Soon, his face would be buried in that wonderfully drenched pussy . . .
Soon . . .

You were burning. A fire that Matt had lit, then steadily built with his hands and mouth until you burned with need. An urgency that the man himself didnât seem to feel. He moved at a speed that could be best described as languid.
âM-matt,â you whined.
âYes?â he asked, lifting his head from your breast. Seeing his lust-darkened eyes and kiss-swollen lips made the growing ache in your cunt worse. âWhat does my sweet girl need?â
My sweet girl . . . . Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing. âNeed you.â
âGotta be more specific than that,â he said. âTell me what you want.â
You were half naked on your kitchen counter and fully ready to have sex with this man and yet somehow that question still managed to fluster you. âMaattt.â
âIâm not a mind reader, sweetheart. You have to tell me what you want,â he said, sounding almost conversational. But his voice was too husky, his eyes too hungry, for that. The way his thumbs rubbed the skin just about the waistband of your sweatbands was another dead giveaway.
Your mouth opened, then closed.
âNo need to be shy, sweet girl,â he continued, pausing to give another little nip to the top of your right breast. A spot that you hadnât realized that so sensitive until he started lavishing it with attention. âNo one but me will hear you.â
Biting your bottom lip, you considered that. He was right. It was just you and him. And you trusted him . . . Maybe you should start with something simple?
âMy pants and underwear,â you said, managing to keep your voice steady. âI want them off.â
The smirk he flashed you was all kinds of wicked. âAs you wish.â
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants and started tugging it down. Along with your panties. In a sharp contrast to his earlier leisurely pace, he quickly yanked down the clothes and tossed them aside. Like with your shirt, you found yourself too distracted to notice or care where your clothes went.
Matt gripped your knees and spread your legs wide. He then sank down to his knees, shifting forward until he was tantalizingly close to where you desperately wanted him. The sight once again had your cunt clenching around nothing. A deep rumble, almost like a growl, erupted from him. It matched the feral expression spreading across his face.
âTell me what you need,â he demanded, his voice a growl full of gravel. You shuddered. You had never heard him speak like that. But it worked you up just as much as his courtroom voice. His hands tightened on your thighs. âMy fingers?â
He lifted one hand away from your leg, then ran a single thick finger through your folds. You gasped when that finger brushed over your clit, then groaned with disappointment when that fleeting touch was all you got. Then felt your mouth go dry when he raised the finger to his mouth and licked off your slick. Especially when Matt let out a low moan, briefly closing his eyes in clear pleasure.
âOr my mouth,â Matt continued. You gasped when he leaned forward and gave the entire length of your cunt a single lick. You tried to lift your hips but Mattâs hands clamped down on your thighs and pinned you down to the counter.
âMatt!â you pleaded but the grip on your legs remained firm.
âTell me,â He said, then blow a puff of air against your desperate cunt. He nuzzled your inner thigh, his rough stubble sending sparks down your spine. âWhat does this beautiful pussy want?â
âMaatt.â
âTell me, sweet girl.â He kissed your inner thigh. Then another kiss. It rapidly became clear that your desperate cunt wasnât going to get the attention it wanted unless you said the words.
âMatt!â
âTell me.â
âYour mouth,â you begged. âPlease, I need â fuck!â
Matt did another long, slow lick up your entire slit. After a teasing swipe across your clit, he turned his attention to your soaked entrance. There he lapped with soft, little licks which were obscenely loud. Like he was messily eating an ice cream cone. One that he clearly enjoyed, making a low noise that sounded remarkably like purring. The vibration contributed to making your own, much louder moans. Instinctively you tried to squirm but his hands kept you right where he wanted you. You could feel that familiar pressure start to build.
He pulled away. No! You started to protest but was cut off by Matt lifting your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Then his mouth was back on you, his tongue circling your entrance before slipping inside you. Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto as his tongue fucked into you again and again
That something ended up being Mattâs hair. But he didnât seem to mind, rewarding every tug on the hair twisted tightly in your fingers with a loud groan. Then his tongue slipped out of you, switching its attention to your clit. You cried out. He altered between teasing licks and stronger lapping as you chanted his name.
Matt wrapped his lips around your little bud and sucked. You almost screamed. Your legs began to tremble as you started hurling toward your peak. Then he thrust two thick fingers inside you. Your thighs squeezed his face between them. Close, you were so close . . . then his fingers curled. You fell over the edge calling out his name.
Your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers. Fingers that continued to work you through your orgasm. His mouth remained latched onto your clit, sending wave after wave of white-hot pleasure. Only you started to whimper from oversensitivity did he lift away from your clit. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his mouth. You let out warbling moan as he noisily lapped at your entrance.
By the time he pulled away, you were a limp puddle on your own kitchen counter. Despite your recent orgasm, your cunt clenched again. Because Matt looked thoroughly debauched. His hair mussed, eyes half-lidded, those pink lips swollen and glistening with your slick. While you watched, his tongue slide out and slowly licked it off.

Matt knew you were watching him. It was obvious from the way your heartbeat sped up. The hitch in your already heavy breathing. The fresh slick dripping out of your cunt, even more tempting now that he knew just how sweet you tasted. He settled for the slick clinging to his two fingers, putting them in his mouth and sucking them clean. Not as nearly as good as getting it directly from your cunt but the strangled groan you made watching him do it was its own reward.
Fingers now clean, he carefully lowered your legs from his shoulders and rose to his feet. Matt heard you shifting, pushing yourself back into an upright position. Then, your hands reached out and tugged his head down to kiss him. You moaned into his mouth at the taste of yourself.
But you didnât stop there. Your hands leisurely made their way down his torso until you reached his boxers. Your fingers dipped under the waistband, then hesitated.
âMay I?â you asked.
âPlease,â he answered, eager to see what you would do.

Permission granted, you peeled his boxers down. His cock eagerly sprang free of its confines. As Matt finished pushing his boxers off, you felt a tinge of nerves. His cock hadnât looked small during your brief glimpse earlier. But it had been flaccid then. Now that his cock was fully erect, you realized he was rather more . . . impressive than you had first thought. Or even imagined and Past You had been rather hopeful that he had a big dick . . .
âSweetheart?â
The clear concern in Mattâs voice had your head snapping up. He was frowning at you, his brow furrowed with worry.
âYou know you donât have do anything, right?â he asked, his tone deadly serious. âIf you want to stop right now, we will.â
âNo,â you said, rapidly shaking your head. âI want to.â
He frowned, his head titling slightly to one side. Listening, you realized. Doing his human lie detector thing. âBut?â
âIâm just a little nervous,â you said, tapping your fingers against your bare thigh.
âWhy?â he asked.
You felt your cheeks warm. âItâs . . . um . . . youâre . . . ah . . . bigger. Than any . . . of my exes.â
âIs that so?â Matt looked distinctly smug. âI can be gentle. But if youâd like to wait ââ
âNo,â you interrupted. Because nerves wasnât your only reaction to seeing his cock. Feeling suddenly bold, you reached over and wrapped your hand around his cock. And feel another tinge of nerves and anticipation at realizing that Matt wasnât just long, he was thick. You started stroking him, slowly adjusting the firmness of your grip as you watched the reactions on his face. He moaned, his hands finding their way back to your hips.
You noted, with a certain amount of satisfaction, that he looked a lot less smug now.
Feeling more confident, you continued, âI donât want to wait. I want this.â Your thumb swiped across the tip, smearing the weeping pre-cum. His hips jerked and out of his mouth came a beautiful groan that you immediately wanted him to make again. âInside me.â
His hands tightened on your hips. That feral look was creeping back in. âI donât â ah â have a condom.â
âDonât want one,â you said. You knew it was a dumb thing to do. Reckless. But you were tired of all of the barriers that had been separating the two of you. The thought of another one just rubbed you the wrong way.
Your hand slide off of his cock. A faint whine escaped his throat. Tempting you to put your hand back. But it felt . . . coercive . . . to be giving him a handjob while asking him if he wanted a condom after you had just made it clear that you didnât want one. Especially since you knew Matt had a people-pleasing streak.
âBut I, um, have a box of condoms in my bedroom. If youâd rather wear one,â you offered, feeling renewed warmth in your cheeks. It had been an impulse purchase during one of those rare periods when you were both determined to tell him your feelings and confident it would go well . . . only to chicken out once you were actually in front of Matt.
âI donât think many man would rather wear one,â he said. âAs long as you were sure . . .â
âI am.â
âOkay,â he said. âWhen did you buy these condoms?â
There was a peculiar note in his voice. He sounded almost . . . jealous? But that couldnât be right. Why would Matt be jealous?
âLast month,â you said. âPast Me, um, had a moment where she, ah, . . . was very confident that youâd agree to a date? And that sex might happen afterward?â
A smile spread across his face. âPast You would have been right. Past Matt would have agreed in a heartbeat.â
âWhat about Current Matt?â you asked, daring to hope.
âCurrent Matt agrees with Past Matt,â he said. âI would love to go on a date with you.â
Your heart gave a leap. âYou would?!â
âOf course,â he said, utterly matter of fact. Like he was stating something obvious. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Matt Murdock wanted to go on a date with you. âIâve wanted to ask you for a while.â
âWhy didnât you?â you asked.
âIn part because you didnât know about Daredevil,â he said. âNot telling a one-night stand is one thing. Not telling my girlfriend is something else.â
âGirlfriend?â you repeated.
âYes,â he said. âIf you would like to be.â
âI would like that,â you said, smiling.
âGood,â he said. Then he suddenly laughed.
âWhatâs so funny?â
âAll the ways I pictured asking you to be my girlfriend,â Matt said. âStanding in your kitchen naked wasnât one of them.â
âMe neither.â You giggled. âWeâve done this all topsy-turvy.â
âWe have,â he agreed. âNormally, Iâd take you to dinner before burying my face in your sweet cunt.â
The reminder sent fresh arousal pooling between your legs. Despite that toe-curling orgasm, that particular body part was eager for more. A desire that only increased when his pink tongue darted out to slowly lick his lips. Then he made another soft moan. The same soft moans he had made while eating you out . . . your heart raced as something finally clicked together in your mind.
âCan you taste, um, . . ?â you trailed off, feeling your cheeks burn. You couldnât say it.
âHow wet that pussy is for me?â Matt said, his eyes darkening. âYes. Having my mouth on you is better but from the air, the aroma of it, is still . . . intoxicating.â
Part of you was embarrassed. Especially when you thought about this morning, that Matt hadnât just heard you touching yourself. But another, larger part of you was powerfully turned on. There was something very hot about knowing that just the taste of you, the smell of you, was putting that hungry look on his face.
You squirmed. Then something else occurred to you. âTechnically you have taken me to dinner many times.â
âVery true,â Matt said, then chuckled. âFoggy has been saying that weâve been dating for months.â
âKaren said the same thing,â you said. âMaybe they are right?â
âDefinitely,â Matt said. âAnd weâve been idiots.â
âTotal idiots,â you agreed, then pulled him down for another kiss.
You could still faintly taste yourself in his mouth. Before you knew it, your hands were buried in his hair. Matt used his grip on your hips to pull you over to the counterâs edge. He pressed himself against you. Despite the intervening conversation, he was still hard. Feeling himself grind his cock against your cunt had felt good before. But now? Without any clothes in the way? It stoked that banked fire inside you into an inferno.
You wanted . . . no, you needed him. You didnât care that you were in your kitchen. You needed that cock filling your achingly empty cut. You needed him to fuck you stupid.
âMatty,â you whimpered, breaking away from the kiss. âNeed you.â
âWhat do you need, sweet girl?â He rumbled against your throat. âWhat does your pretty pussy need?â
This time you didnât hesitate. âNeeds your cock. Needs you to fuck me.â
He growled. You expected him to line himself up, to start fucking you right then and there. Instead he shifted his grip to your thighs and lifted you off the counter. Startled, your hands abandoned his hair in favor of his shoulders to steady yourself as he carried you out of the kitchen. Given the small size of your apartment, it didnât take to figure out where he was taking you.
Sure enough, soon he was lowering you down onto your bed. He kissed you deeply as his knees encouraged your legs wider. Not that you needed much encouragement. He grinded against you, coating his cock in your slick. Sparks raced down your spine every time the head nudged your clit. It was so good. It was not enough. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing.
âStop teasing me,â you begged. âPlease . . . fuck me.â
Which was apparently all he needed to hear. Matt took himself in hand, lining himself up with your entrance. Then, finally, he was inside you. You gasped, nails digging into his back. It was just the tip of him but the stretch was noticeable. Despite the clear hunger on his face, he didnât move. Stayed right where he was while your cunt fluttered around him until you were ready for more. Slowly, he pressed in deeper and deeper. Until his cock was fully sheathed inside you.
You felt so good. So deliciously full. No one had ever filled you like this. Then Matt started to move, gently rocking his hips into you. Pleasure washed over you with each back and forth movement of his cock so deep inside you. You couldnât stop moaning. You could feel yourself climbing back toward that precipice.
âTaking me so well,â Matt said, then groaned when your cunt clenched around him at the praise. âReady for more, sweetheart?â
Your answer was another stuttered moan.
âWords, sweet girl. I need words.â
âMore,â you managed to moan out. âMore. Mo-â
You were cut off by sharp snap of his hips. His first real thrust into you. You cried out wordlessly. Cries that only got louder as the thrusts got faster and deeper. Instinctively, your hips began to move. You thought he couldnât get any deeper. You were wrong. As soon as you matched his rhythm, you felt him sink just a little further inside you.
âThatâs it, sweetheart,â Matt grunted. âJust like that.â
Matt was always handsome. But there was something indescribably beautiful about how he looked now. The pull and flex of his muscles as he moved in and out of your body. Skin kissed with sweat. Hair, a fluffy chaotic mess. His face, for once, with no sign of worry or stress. Just pure pleasure. The grunts and moans spilling out of his mouth with each thrust only added to the beatific vision on top of you.
Your climax had been steadily building but now you were teetering on that edge. Just a little bit more . . .
Matt must have sensed it somehow because his next thrust was slower but impossibly deep and hard. You gasped, your back arching. He did it again. Your body began to shake, toes curling . . . Close, you were so close . . .!
âMatty,â you whimpered.
âLet it go, sweetheart,â Matt grunted. âCum on my cock.â
Another impossibly deep thrust and you did.

Matt groaned as your cunt gripped his cock tightly as you cried out his name. He never stopped moving, drawing out your orgasm until you were a babbling, shaking mess underneath him.
Only then did he start chasing his release. He pumped into you hard and fast, his entire world narrowed down to you. The delightful pain of your nails raking up and down his back. Your heart pounding in his ears. The guttural noises you made as he fucked you. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your cunt as he moved in and out . . . you were so fucking wet. All for him. Because of him.
He wasnât going to last much longer. Not with the way your cunt kept clamping down on his cock like a vice. Feeling his balls start to draw up, he tried to withdraw. He intended to release himself on your stomach. But you loudly protested, back arching and frantic hands grabbing his ass in a bid to him keep inside you.
âDonât stop, donât stop,â you begged. âPlease, donât stop.â
âGonna cum,â he managed to grit out.
Your hands only gripped his ass tighter. âCum inside me. Wanna feel it.â
Truth. âSweetheart.â
âMatty, please.â
That did it. He couldnât resist your begging. With one last hard thrust, he buried his cock deep inside you and came.
Breathing hard, it was tempting to collapse on top on you. But he couldnât. He was too heavy. He carefully pulled out of you and collapsed next to you. Still catching his breath, he gathered you in his arms, pressing your back against his chest. Perfect. Matt liked a good cuddle afterward. Didnât understand what some men had against it. Your soft, naked body against his, smelling like sex and his pheromones? Yes, please.
For a moment, Matt attributed your little restless movements as simply getting comfortable. But quickly he realized that wasnât entirely it. He reached between your legs. Felt you jolt when his fingers found your clit. Then moaned as he started rubbing gentle circles. You were already very sensitive. It didnât take long for you to reach your peak again.
Matt buried his nose in the back of your neck. In a little while, heâd need to get up and get a washcloth. Clean up the mess he had made between your legs. But not right now. Right now, he was just going to enjoy having you in his arms.

The storm broke that night, after dumping almost ten feet of snow on the Big Apple. The powers that be had crews out clearing the streets and restoring downed power lines bright and early the next morning but it took several days to get the city fully up and running again.
You and Matt werenât trapped in your apartment the entire time. Just a couple days. Despite the fact that neither of you were used to living with anyone, it was . . . comfortable. You cooked together in your tiny kitchen without much trouble. He did his share of the housework without prompting or complaint. You discovered during the brief power outage that, in addition to being a lie detector, Matt was a human furnace. Also that he was cuddler.
Once his phone was charged enough, Matt called Foggy and let him know that he wasnât dead. He made Matt put him on speaker-phone so he could tell you both âI told you so.â A sentiment echoed by Marci and Karen. Among many, many others.
The sex continued to be mind-blowing. And frequent. Because you both were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourselves. A shower became Matt fingering you, then fucking you against the wall. Watching a movie turned you kneeling between his legs, taking his cock into your mouth. Blissful Puddle was a very good look on him.
By time Daredevil slipped out of your window on the third night, your cunt had been given quite the workout and you had lost track of your orgasms.

Life went back to normal. Well, as normal as dating a vigilante could be. You worked. Matt saved people, in and out of the courtroom. You and Matt still went on your outgoings together, only with a lot more hand-holding and kissing. And often followed by enthusiastic sex in either your places or his. Matt quickly fulfilled his promise to introduce you to his silk sheets. You were very happy.
Tonight as you headed up to Mattâs apartment, you were filled with curiosity. Matt told you that he had a surprise. Then you reached his door, he pulled his usual trick of opening the door just as you raised your hand to knock. Just to make you jump.
âHaving fun, Trouble?â you asked, entering the apartment.
âI donât know what you are talking about,â he denied. But his eyes were too filled with mirth to make his protests believable.
âLie.â
His lips twitched. But you were distracted away from whatever smartass remark that was about to come out of his mouth by movement behind Matt. You looked and to your surprise, it was a cat. A little brown-and-gray tabby standing in front of the slightly ajar bedroom door, its tail curled into a question mark.
âWhen did you get a cat?â
âI didnât,â Matt said. âYou did.â
âMe?â
âYeah, assuming you want her.â He smiled. âI promise this one wouldnât turn into a vigilante.â
âCertain of that?â You asked. The question was only partially teasing. The recent events had only cemented your desire for another feline companion. But, as much as you were happy with how things had worked out, starting to get attached to a cat only to discover that you couldnât keep it wasnât fun.
âVery. According to my magic expert, sheâs just a cat.â
You filed away âmagic expertâ as something to pester him about later. âWhere did you find her?â
âDumpster,â Matt answered, his expression turning grim. âInside a knotted pillowcase.â
You stared at him in horrified disbelief. Not at Mattâs story. You believed him. But at the sheer cruelty. You knew people could be cruel. You werenât that naive. But it still shocked you.
âSomeone actually did that?â
âThey did.â His voice reflected the same anger, the same horror, you were feeling. âNot the first time Iâve found something like that. Wouldnât be the last.â
He took a deep breath. Visibly reigned in his temper, saving it for the streets or the heavy bag. âNormally I take the animals to an all-night shelter but theyâre full right now. Theyâd still find somewhere for her with one of their fosters or something . . . but I found this one by the same dumpster where you found me. So I thought, maybe it was a sign.â
You smiled. The cat redistribution system at work. And that was that. The cat was officially yours.
You named her Blizzard.
END NOTES
Gordian knot is a legendary knot that became a metaphor for an intractable problem solved by bold stroke. Or in this particular case, one which Matt and Foggy dearly wish they could solve with one bold stroke.
That red light/red lenses thing comes from Wikipedia so treat it with the appropriate level of skepticism.
In Nelson vs Murdock, Foggy had every right to be hurt and angry with Matt. But even if it was deserved, doesnât make what he said less painful to Matt. Personally, I think Foggy had hit that point of angry-hurt where you just want the other person to feel as badly as you do. And since Foggy is Mattâs best friend, he knows exactly which words will hurt the most. Moreover, I think he was too upset that tonight to really absorb Mattâs explanation about his senses. Hence some of his caustic comments during Season 2.
I have no proof that this incarnation of Matt has ever worn a beard. But shh, weâre having fun here.
It is my understanding that New York City during August is not only hot but miserably humid.
#fan fiction#fan fic#daredevil#mcu daredevil#netflix daredevil#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock smut#cat man do#ao3 link
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How to Maximize Your Productivity Living with Limited Time


Hello, friends! Today's post is a little longer, but it's something I felt I needed to share.
We all have different commitmentsâschool, work, hobbies, etc.âand in today's fast-paced world, our schedules are overflowing, leaving little room for us to breathe. It's easy to feel overwhelmed and struggle with the constant juggle of work and obligations, leaving many of us feeling perpetually busy and struggling to find balance in our lives.
So, this week, I wanted to talk about time management and productivity, specifically task management systems that will help you efficiently plan out your life and find time for absolutely everything.
Over the last two months, I've experimented with a plethora of different productivity and task management systems and want to share five strategies that will help you maximize your productivity and have time for all the things you love.
Embrace slow productivity
This is probably my favorite tip Iâve ever encountered and felt compelled to share.
After listing to a podcast hosted by Jordan Harbinger and Cal Newport where they talked about shifting mindsets concerning the work weâre doing, my outlook on productivity has changed.
Slow productivity is founded on the idea of âresourcing your work so it garners a sense of fulfillment rather than leaving you feeling overwhelmedâ. To really embrace slow productivity is means not over-loading your plate
That can be difficult because weâve been conditioned to believe that beibusy and doing more is a sign of progress; however, itâs important to understand that doing less things =/ accomplishing less goals. In fact doing fewer things often makes our work more sustainable, allowing us to work at a natural pace and pay more attention to quality instead of quantity.
This is probably my favorite tip I've ever encountered and felt compelled to share. After listening to a podcast hosted by Jordan Harbinger and Cal Newport where they talked about shifting mindsets concerning the work we're doing, my outlook on productivity has changed.
Slow productivity is founded on the idea of "resourcing your work so it garners a sense of fulfillment rather than leaving you feeling overwhelmed." To really embrace slow productivity means not overloading your plate.
That can be difficult because we've been conditioned to believe that being busy and doing more is a sign of progress. However, it's important to understand that doing fewer things does not equal accomplishing fewer goals. In fact, doing fewer things often makes our work more sustainable, allowing us to work at a natural pace and pay more attention to quality instead of quantity.
Here are some steps to help you embrace slow productivity:
Prioritization: Identify the most important tasks or goals and focus on them first. Emphasize quality over quantity and aim to produce meaningful results rather than simply checking items off a list.
Break Tasks into Smaller Steps: Break down larger tasks into smaller, more manageable steps. Personally, this has helped make tasks feel less overwhelming and helped me maintain focus and momentum.
Set Realistic Expectations: Setting realistic expectations is crucial. Understand the time you have and what you can accomplish within it to avoid overcommitting, particularly to tasks that don't align with your priorities.
Finding a planning system that work for you
Effectively managing your time requires a solid organizational framework. The planning system you choose plays a crucial role in maximizing your productivity. This means finding the right digital or tactile analog tool that works for you.
Digital Tools: There is a crazy amount of digital planning tools available that comprise different features such as to-do lists, task and project managers, and progress trackers. Iâm slightly biased here, but apps like Notion, TickTick, obsidian, Trello, or Asana are good for organizing tasks, setting deadlines, and tracking progress on a project. Additionally, using a calendar app such as Google Calendar, outlook or, Fantastical can you schedule your time effectively and avoid overcommitting.
Pen and Paper: If youâre someone who prefers the simplicity and tactile experience of traditional pen and paper planners, processes such as bullet journaling or simply using a journal to keep note of all your commitments offers a flexible system for organizing tasks, events, and notes in a customizable format. One perk about using pen and paper is that it offers a level of permanence that canât be found in digital tools. Once you write something down (depending on the tool you write with) itâs permanent.
Hybrid Approach: You can also combine both of these methods to create an experience that works for you. For example, you can use a digital calendar while also keeping a bullet journal as a task manger or place to reflect.
Personally, I find that the hybrid approach works best for me.
Time blocking
Time blocking works because it provides a structured approach to managing your time effectively.
Time blocking is the process of dividing your day into blocks of time dedicated to specific tasks or activitiesâallowing you to minimize distractions and maintain focus on the task at hand.
Hereâs what Iâve found to be the best way to implement time blocking:
Identify Priorities: Start by identifying your most important tasks and goals for the day or week. These are the activities that align with your overall objectives, values, and contribute to meaningful progress.
Choose Time Slots: Next, choose specific time slots in your schedule for each task or activity. Itâs crucial to be realistic about the amount of time needed for each task, and consider factors such as your peak productivity hours and natural energy levels.
Time blocking may seem antithetical to flexibility. However, regular review and adjustment is a good way to make modifications in response to changing priorities or interruptions.
<3 Luna
#that girl#good habits#leveling up#level up#aesthetic#productivity#habits#self improvement#self love#self help#mindfulness#education#self care#productivity tips#growth#empowerment
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Ooga Booga Suguwu gets mated to Female Mowgli after Neanderthal BL Betrayal
Previous Chapter: Ooga Booga Toji gets Hunted (Tumblr/Ao3)
Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies courting you with grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication. Just prehistoric buffoonery. A/N: Okay. Listen, cave gremlins. Someone said, "I canât see Toji as a househusband." And to that, I say: There are no gender roles in this fic. This is a Neanderthal AU. There are no caveman podcasts telling people what they can & cannot do. Nobody is saying "A man provides & a woman nurtures," because they are all too busy fighting mammoths & eating dirt. Neanderthals did not have fixed gender roles. Archaeological evidence suggests that both men & women hunted, gathered, & took care of children when needed. They did what made sense for survivalâwhich means if your mate was out there biting buffaloes to death like an unhinged animal, you might stay back & make sure she doesnât turn into a full-blown cannibal. Some sources that actually explain this: Harvard University & Cambridge Study on Neanderthal Diets & Roles Smithsonian on Neanderthal Social Structures Science.org on How Neanderthals Had No Strict Gender Roles Toji is not a âhousehusband.â Toji hunts when necessary. He just also cooks & cleans, because if he didnât, his feral wife would eat a person. He is a retired hunter, not a stay-at-cave husband. The term "house-husband" was used for comedy, so you could imagine this absolute weapon of a man trying to keep his mate from killing people while also making sure the fire doesnât go out. If you still donât believe me, thatâs fine. Just know that in this AU, I am god. And in this world, Toji cooks, Gojo steals instead of hunts, Suguru runs a cult, Sukuna is submissive when breeding, & Choso is Neanderthal Nick Cannon. If this still upsets you, then I encourage you to simply hallucinate a different reality. No hate, just bonk yourself gently & move on. :) Now for this chapter: Have you ever wondered what would happen if Suguru met youâa feral, unwashed, tree-dwelling Female Mowgli who has never heard of laws, hygiene, or personal space? And what if you chased him down like prey, kidnapped him, & forcefully domesticated yourself?Ya, me neither. I promise you, this fic is 90% brain rot, 10% caveman BL betrayal, & 100% historically inaccurate. If you ever wanted to see Suguru suffer like a Regency novel heroine but in Neanderthal times, welcome. As usual, => This is a different reader, but the same Suguruâunfortunately for him. => No suggestive bits in this one. => This is Suguruâs chapter, but Gojo, Sukuna, Toji & Nanami are also here. The other guys are getting their solo stories, with guest appearances in each otherâs on a regular. So I recommend reading all of them, but I canât force you to make good life choices.

Suguru is sulking.
Gojo has abandoned him.
Not forever. Not in a way that makes Suguru want to throw himself into the nearest tar pit.
But in a way that makes his chest ache with betrayal. Because Gojoâhis best friend, his brother, his hunting partnerâhas a mate now.
A crazy mate. A mate that throws rocks at Suguru for existing near her mate and makes Gojo do stupid couple things instead of hunting mammoths with Suguru. (Suguru refuses to believe that itâs Gojo making her do those things, because that would be to much for historyâs first BL.)
Suguru crosses his arms, scowling as he stomps through the dense forest.
Gojo used to care. Used to hunt with him.
Used to challenge him to pointless fights that ended in mutual near-death experiences.
Now?
Now he makes baby noises at his mate, carries her food and lets her steal his shiny rocks like some weakling.
It is disgusting.
Suguru is disgusted.
Disgusted and alone.
He grunts, dragging his spear along the ground, staring at the trees.
(Gojo stupid. Gojo weak. Gojoâ)
Twig snap!!!
Suguru stills.
The hairs on the back of his neck rise.
He is being watched.
Slowly, cautiously, he turns his headâ
And sees you.
High up in the trees.
Crouched like some horrible, unwashed baboon.
Eyes sharp.
Teeth sharp.
Naked.
Watching him.
Unblinking.
Grinning.
Suguru stares.
You stare back.
For a long, long moment.
And thenâ
You scratch your ass.
Suguru gags.
Suguru does not know what he has found.
It is not human.
It is not beast.
It is something worse.
A feral woman.
A woman who does not live in a tribe.
A woman who does not have a mate.
A woman who does not bathe.
A woman who lives in trees like some accursed monkey.
Suguru recoils, nostrils flaring. He has never smelled anything so foul. Not even the rotting mammoth corpse he found last summer.
(That mammoth was a more acceptable mate than this.)
And yetâ
You grin at him.
Like you like him.
Like you want him.
Suguru takes a step back.
You tilt your head, squinting, thenâ
Drop from the tree.
Land on all fours.
Starts crawling towards him.
Suguru panics.
(Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no noâ)
He turns.
He runs.
You chase.
You are fast.
You move like an animal, zigzagging through the trees, sniffing the air, following his scent.
Suguru curses, dodging branches, jumping over rocks.
You laugh, a raspy, unhinged sound, like you havenât used your voice in years.
(Mate!) you suddenly grunt.
Suguru screams.
You pounce.
---
When Suguru wakes up, he is not in his tribe.
He is in a tree.
Tied to a thick branch with vines.
Suspended over a shallow river.
He blinks, confused, groggy.
Thenâ
A smell hits him.
A horrible, vile smell.
The smell of death.
The smell of you.
Suguru stiffens.
Turns his head.
And sees you.
Squatting on another branch.
Watching him.
Grinning.
Suguru stares.
You scratch your ass again.
He gags again.
You tilt your head. (Mate not happy?)
Suguru's eye twitches. (I am not mate.)
You frown. (Then why you here?)
Suguru growls, (You kidnapped me, you foul, disgusting, forest woman!)
You blink. Considers this. Then shrug. (Sassy mate. Wide mate. I take.)
Suguru breathes deeply through his nose.
Exhales.
---
After a lot of bargaining (begging), you let him go back to his tribe.
But you insist on following him there.
After a while of trying to sho you away, he gives up.
He lets you tag along. (He wants to make Gojo jealous.)
But not before Suguru fixes you.
Not out of kindness.
Not out of duty.
Out of self-preservation.
Because you are horrible.
He drags you to the river.
You fight.
You bite him.
He bites back.
You hiss.
He dunks you underwater.
You scream.
He holds you down.
The forest echoes with your suffering.
But Suguru does not stop.
Not until the grime is gone.
Not until the sticks are out of your hair.
Not until you no longer smell like dead things.
When he finally releases you, you gasps, clawing at the riverbank reflection.
Suguru crosses his arms, smug. (See? Clean.)
You pant, soaked, furious. Turn to snarl at himâ
And pause.
Eyes widening.
Mouth parting.
Suguru furrows his brows. (Whatâ)
You grab his face.
Yank him close.
Narrows your eyes. (You.)
Suguru blinks. (Me...?)
You shove your face next to his.
Compares features.
Your hairânow washedâfalls long around your shoulders.
Your faceânow cleanâlooks...
Looks...
Suguru feels a horrible, creeping realization crawl up his spine.
You look like him.
The same, but female.
He bluescreens.
You grin. (Mate very pretty.)
Suguru malfunctions.
---
Now, Suguru has a problem.
Because the forest woman is obsessed with him.
You follow him everywhere.
You copy him.
You steal his food.
You try to groom his hair (he does not let you).
And worst of allâ
Worst of allâ
The tribe loves you.
After one (1) hunt, you become legendary.
You jump onto a buffaloâs back.
Bites its neck.
Kills it with your teeth.
Suguru watches in horror as the tribe worships you.
(Strongest huntress!)
(Wild goddess!)
(Suguru lucky! Suguru mate strong!)
Suguru despairs.
Because nowâ
Now you have a cult.
---
Suguru is being courted.
It is horrifying.
His mateâthe feral, tree-dwelling, bone-gnawing goblin womanâhas decided that you will woo him.
He does not want this.
And yet, it is happening.
The first attempt? A gift.
Suguru wakes up to a severed wolf head in his lap.
It is fresh.
It is bleeding.
It is staring at him.
He grunts, staring at the horrifying offering. (What this?)
You squat in front of him, grinning. (Gift! For mate!)
Suguru exhales. (Why.)
You puff out your chest. (Kill with hands. Strong. Good mate.)
Suguru drags a hand down his face. (Could give... normal gift.)
You blink. Tilts your head. (Like what?)
Suguru gestures vaguely. (Meat. Spear. Fur.)
You pause, considering. Then nod. (Okay.)
Suguru breathes a sigh of relief. Finally, you willâ
The next day, you bring him a whole deer carcass.
You do not drag it.
You do not carry it.
You throw it over your shoulders like a sack of potatoes and drop it at his feet with a loud thud.
Suguru despairs.
Because the tribe is watching.
And they cheer.
Suguru dies inside.
---
The second attempt? Public displays of affection.
Suguru is a private man. A dignified man.
He does not like attention.
His mate?
You like to lick him in front of everyone.
One day, you grab his arm, drag your tongue from wrist to shoulder, and bite down.
Suguru screams.
You grin. (Mark mate. Now other women know.)
Suguru clutches his arm, scowling. (NO WOMEN WANT ME. YOU SCARE THEM ALL AWAY.)
You tilt your head, confused. (Why mate angry? Mate should commit happy.)
Suguru grits his teeth. (Mates do not bite in public.)
You squint. (Not? Then how they mark?)
Suguru pinches his nose, exhales. (They do this.)
Then he leans forward and kisses your forehead.
Just a small peck.
Civilized. Gentle.
Like a normal man showing affection.
You freeze.
Eyes wide.
Breath held.
Suguru smirks. (See? Better than bite.)
You malfunction.
You stare at him like he just reinvented fire.
Thenâ
You screech.
Pounce.
Pins him to the ground.
(Do again.)
Suguru realizes he has made a mistake.
---
The third attempt? Building a home.
Suguru is trying to civilize you.
You live in trees.
This is not acceptable.
So he decorates his cave and makes it comfortable for you.
Draws paintings on walls. Adds soft fur bed. A proper fire pit.
You hate it.
You refuse to go inside.
You climb onto the roof and sleep there instead.
Suguru drags you inside. (Cave good. Tree bad.)
You huff. Crosses arms. (No like cave.)
Suguru scowls. (Why.)
You grin. (Cave no fun. Tree fun. Can watch prey. Jump on prey.)
Suguru closes his eyes. (You do not need to jump on prey. Can hunt normally.)
You stare at him like he is speaking witchcraft.
(But⊠jump fun.)
Suguru facepalms.
His mate is incapable of being civilized.
---
And yetâ
And yetâ
Suguru wants you.
You are horrible.
You are disgusting.
You are wild and untamed.
But you want him like no one else ever has.
Like he is the best thing you have ever seen.
Like he is your greatest hunt.
Like he is worthy.
And something deep, deep in Suguruâs primal brain likes that.
So one night, when you are crouched by the fire, gnawing on bones, he does it first.
He licks your cheek.
You freeze.
Drop the bone.
Turn.
Slowly.
Staring.
Suguru smirks. (Mate now.)
Your eyes widen.
Thenâ
You tackle him.
Pin him.
Bite his neck.
And grin. (Mate now.)
Suguru grins back.
He has been caught.
And he does not want to escape.
---
Suguru has made a mistake.
A huge mistake.
A horrible, irreversible, life-changing mistake.
Because now?
Now his feral mate has decided it is mating time.
It starts with gifts.
Not normal gifts.
Not civilized gifts.
Not furs, beads, or food like any normal person in the tribe would give their mate.
No.
You bring him bones.
So many bones.
Some from animals.
Some from... he does not want to ask what.
You dump them all in the cave, proudly grunting. (Nest for mate.)
Suguru stares at the horrifying pile of skulls, ribs, and femurs that now decorates your and his home.
(We not live like this.)
You tilt your head. (Why not?)
(We civilized.)
You scratch your ass. (What mean 'civilized'?)
Suguru exhales deeply.
It is fine.
He will fix you.
Then came the dancing.
You think mating requires dancing.
You watched others do it (Gojo)âslow, swaying, seductive movements by the fire. (It was not seductive, because collective Nanami, Sukuna, Toji and Suguru and his own mate were throwing bones at him.)
You decide to try.
But you do not know how to dance like that.
So you squat.
Bend your knees.
And start violently shaking your ass.
Suguru chokes on his own spit.
You are not dancing.
You are glitching.
You look possessed.
He grabs your shoulders. (Stop.)
You stop. Blink up at him. (Good dance?)
Suguru rubs his temples. (No.)
(He will not tell you that you did not invent twirking, but the first aneurysm.)
You frown.
Consider.
Then drop onto all fours and start crawling in circles around him like a deranged crab.
Suguru panics.
(WHAT DOING?)
You grin. (Mating dance. Scare rival women away. My lion mother do it.)
Suguru despairs.
There are no rival women.
There is only him, suffering.
Then, you try to bite him again.
Suguru stops you.
Grabs your face. Stares into your soul.
(We do not bite for mating.)
You frown. (Then... how?)
Suguru squints.
Realizes.
Oh.
Oh no.
You do not know.
Youâgrown, feral, unhinged personâhave no idea how actual mating works.
You are just winging it.
Suguru exhales. Deeply. (Come here.)
You crawl into his lap immediately.
He drags a hand down his face. (No. Sit normal.)
You sit like a frog.
Suguru ignores it.
(Okay. Listen.) He places a hand on your stomach. (Mating... make baby.)
You blink. (Yes. That why we mate.)
Suguru nods. (Right. But we do not do it by... throwing bones or crab-walking around the fire.)
You pout. (Then how?)
Suguru sighs. Leans in. Whispers.
Explains.
In detail.
Your eyes go wide.
Your mouth falls open.
You freeze completely.
Suguru smirks. (Understand now?)
You slowly nod.
Thenâ
You grab his face.
Eyes sharp.
Expression dead serious.
(You say... I must sit on you? And you hold me? And we move?)
Suguru stares. (Yes.)
You grin.
Lunge.
Tackle him.
Immediately try to climb him like a tree.
Suguru yells.
Suguru is dying.
He is being smothered.
Youâhis feral, unhinged, terrifying mateâare treating mating like a wrestling match.
You are too strong.
Too enthusiastic.
Too feral.
You lick his jaw. (This good?)
Suguru pants.
Shakes his head. (Slower.)
You grunt. (Why?)
Suguru grips your waist. (Because I said so.)
You grin.
(Suguru leader in cave. Suguru tell me what do.)
Suguru nods. (Yes.)
Your eyes sparkle.
(Suguru... alpha.)
Suguru stops breathing. You are treating this like monkey mating, but he doesnât care; heâs neanderthal.
Your pupils dilate.
Suguru realizes he has made a second, irreversible mistake.
Because now?
You are obsessed.
---
The next day, the tribe knows.
They see Suguru leave the cave, covered in bites and claw marks.
They see you following behind him, grinning smugly when Nanami and Tojiâs mates give you a thumbs up.
They see you cling to his back and lick his neck in front of everyone.
Suguru grunts.
Ignores it.
Walks to the river.
You follow, still attached to him like a damn leech.
You turn to the women. Grin. (Suguru alpha.)
The women gasp. (Mainly Gojoâs because she always thought Suguru was after her mate.)
The men nod in approval.
Nanami passes by. Smirks. (Alpha, huh?)
Suguru glares at him. Contemplates murder.
Gojo appears. Sees the chaos.
Sees Suguruâs state.
Sees you licking his jaw.
Gojo wheezes.
(Suguru. Bro. You got tamed?)
Suguru does not answer.
Suguru does not speak.
Suguru simply accepts his fate.
Because this is life now.
This is his new reality.
He is alpha.
You are his mate.
And you will never leave him alone again.
---
That evening, Suguru sits by the tribe fire.
Sulking.
Mourning his old life.
Mourning his sanity.
Gojo sits next to him, smug. (You understand now.)
Suguru grunts. (Yes.)
Gojo pats his shoulder. (She strong, though.)
Suguru exhales. (She feral, though.)
Across the fire, his mate is crouched like Mowgli, gnawing on a bone.
Your cult is cheering.
Suguru puts his face in his hands.
He used to be normal.
Now he is simply...
Husband.
Gojoâs suffering suddenly makes sense.
---
Suguru has ascended.
Something in him has snapped.
It happened slowly.
At first, he fought it.
Fought you.
Fought the fact that his mate was a lawless, uncivilized, bone-hoarding gremlin of the forest who did not know how mating worked and thought biting was a love language.
But thenâ
Then he saw the truth.
His tribe worshipped you.
They admired your strength.
They copied your ways.
They offered you food, furs, weapons, praying that you would bless their hunts.
And something inside Suguru cracked open like a mammoth skull under a club.
He understood now.
You were more than just a person.
You were a divine force of nature.
A living legend.
A feral, tree-dwelling deity who crawled in circles and hunted with your teeth.
And if his people wanted to worship youâ
Then Suguru would lead them.
So he did what any genocidal c-word leader would do. (You can decide if itâs Cunty or Cultist.)
Called the first sermon.
The tribe gathers.
Suguru stands before them, arms crossed, towering over his people like a true prophet.
You sit behind him on a large rock, gnawing on a raw deer leg like a wolf.
He turns to his people.
Eyes serious.
Voice deep.
(We were blind.)
The tribe nods solemnly.
(We did not see. We did not know.)
The tribe grumbles in agreement.
But nowânow they understand.
Now they see your power.
The Huntress.
The Wild One.
The Unwashed.
The Bringer of Bones.
You pause your gnawing. Blink. Tilt your head. (âŠHuh?)
Suguru ignores you.
(Our hunts are greater. Our strength has grown. Our enemies fear us. Because of you.)
The tribe cheers.
You scratch your ear with your foot like a dog.
Suguru nods sagely. (Yes. Witness your divinity.)
The people weep.
---
The tribe transforms overnight.
They copy you.
They crawl on all fours before hunting.
They eat raw meat.
They hoard bones.
Suguru preaches your teachings.
(Do not fear hunger. Hunt like the goddessâsilent, deadly, with your hands.)
The people nod reverently.
(Do not waste food. The goddess eats allâbone, flesh, even eyeballs.)
The people wail in agreement.
(Do not batheâ)
Suguru pauses.
Then glances at you, who are currently biting your own toenails.
(âŠNo. Bathe. The goddess was reborn through water. Follow this path.)
The people cheer.
You grumble. (Water stupid.)
Suguru ignores you.
You do not need to understand.
You only need to exist.
The people will worship.
And he?
He will lead.
---
But there are a few traitors.
Gojo, Toji, Sukuna, and Nanami do not believe.
Neither do their mates.
They watch in horror as their people lose their minds.
Toji glares at Suguru. (You serious?)
Suguru crosses his arms. (Yes.)
Gojo wheezes. (Bro. Bro. You started a cult around your Mowgli cave-wife.)
Suguru nods solemnly. (Yes, she divine.)
Sukuna bares his teeth. (She bit me last week.)
Suguru smirks. (She was testing you. You failed.)
Sukuna sputters. (FAILED? FAILED WHAT? I AM KING.)
Suguru shrugs. (Not her king.)
Sukuna almost explodes.
Nanami scoffs. (Sheâs are just a person.)
Suguru laughs.
Laughs darkly.
(She is more than a person. She is a force. A legend. A living god.)
Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose.
Gojo shakes his head. (Youâve lost it. Youâre done, bro.)
Suguru simply grins.
(I have seen the light.)
Toji points at you, who are currently chasing a chicken with Suguruâs old loincloth.
(This? This is the light?)
Suguru nods.
(The brightest.)
The doubters sigh.
They know they cannot convince him.
He is gone.
Too deep.
Too devoted.
Too in love.
---
The final moment of devotion comes when Suguru declaresâ
(A great offering must be made. A true shrine must be built.)
The tribe agrees.
They gather bones.
They carve a giant statue of you.
They bring forth gifts of raw meat, spears, and animal pelts.
You tilt your head. Blink. (Why?)
Suguru kneels before you.
(Because you are our goddess.)
You scratch your chin.
(But I just... live here.)
Suguru nods reverently.
(Yes. Exactly.)
You squint. (This normal?)
Suguru smiles.
(Nothing about you is normal.)
You grin.
Then pounce on him.
Suguru laughs, accepting his fate.
The people cheer.
Gojo, Toji, Sukuna, and Nanami watch in horror.
The cult has won.
---
Suguru is furious.
Not normal furious.
Not mild annoyance.
Not Gojo-stole-my-food-again angry.
No.
Real anger. Primal anger.
Because Gojo has challenged him.
Because his mate is being ogled.
Because Gojo is the reason for both.
It happened during the Great Gatheringâa time when all the strongest tribes meet, trade, and flex their best fighters like mating peacocks.
Suguruâs feral goddess is, unfortunately, a spectacle.
You are naked. Always.
Not because you want to be seen, but because you do not believe in clothes.
(You tried wearing fur once. Said it felt like a dead rat on your back. Bit it. Threw it in the fire. Refused to wear anything since.)
Suguru accepts this.
The tribe worships this.
Other men?
They stare.
And Suguru sees red.
---
Gojo, as always, is the problem.
Gojo grins. (Your mate famous, huh?)
Suguru grunts. (Of course. She divine.)
Gojo tilts his head. (Divine⊠and naked.)
Suguru growls.
Gojo snickers. (Just saying. Maybe mate should wear something.)
Suguru glares. (Why? Fear your power? Feel inferior? Her loin hair longer than yours?)
Gojo snorts. (No. I just think youâre mad because men look at her.)
Suguruâs eye twitches.
Gojo grins wider. (Oh. So thatâs it.)
Suguruâs grip tightens on his spear. (You challenge me?)
Gojo laughs. (I breathe, and you take it as a challenge.)
Suguru throws his spear at him.
It is a battle of gods.
The two strongest men in the valley.
The two greatest hunters.
The two biggest dumbasses.
They charge.
Gojo swings his clubâSuguru dodges.
Suguru throws a rockâGojo catches it in his teeth and spits it back.
They clash, grunt, snarl, and headbutt like savage beasts.
Men cheer.
Women bet furs.
Children chant.
Their mates?
They watch.
You crouch on a rock, chewing on bark.
Gojoâs mate sits nearby, fixing his fur pelt.
She sighs. (They do this every time.)
You grunt. (Why?)
Gojoâs mate shrugs. (Suguru mad. Gojo dumb.)
You tilt your head. (Gojo mate smart. Why take dumb mate?)
Gojoâs mate smirks. (Because he strong and smart but not smarter than me.)
You grin, eyes sparkling. (Yes. Best.)
You both chuckle in agreement.
Gojo and Suguru?
Still fighting.
Gojo finally pins Suguru down.
Leans over. Smirks.
(Say it. Say I win.)
Suguru snarls. (Never.)
Gojo leans closer. Mocking.
(Just admit Iâmâ)
And thenâ
A rock flies out of nowhere.
Hits Gojo square in the head.
Everyone stops.
Silence.
Gojo blinks.
Looks up.
Sees you.
Crouched on a ledge.
Grinning.
Holding another rock.
You cock your arm back.
Gojoâs eyes widen. (WAITâ)
BONK!!!
Gojo goes down.
Flat.
Suguru grins. (My mate best.)
The crowd roars. (Toji grones; he lost chicken over this bet.)
---
Suguru sits by the fire.
He is sore.
He is bleeding.
But he is victorious.
You sit beside him, preening like a smug cat.
Gojo?
Gojo is lying face-down in the dirt, still twitching.
Toji, Nanami, and Sukuna stand over him.
Toji pokes him with a stick. (He dead?)
Nanami sighs. (No. He just stupid.)
Sukuna shrugs. (Shouldâve fought better.)
Gojoâs mate comes over, making baby noises at him.
He makes a crying face and shoves his face in her breasts.
She coos to him, and Gojo smirks smugly at the men around him when sheâs not looking.
Suguru exhales.
Gojo will live.
But his victory is secured.
You are his.
His tribe is strong.
His cult thrives.
And as the fire crackles, and you bite his shoulder in affection, Suguru knows one thing for certain.
He is the luckiest bastard alive.
---
A/N: Drop your answer in the comments, or I swear, I will make Choso explain his mating techniques in full detail next chapter.
Next Chapter Ooga Booga Choso, Shoko & Yuki: The Great Gas Chamber Incident - [Tumblr/Ao3]
All Works Masterlist
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk men#Au: Neanderthal#prehistoric#jjk prehistoric#ooga booga jjk#geto x gojo#geto suguru#suguru geto#geto#geto fluff#getou suguru#jjk geto#jujutsu geto#suguru getou#geto x reader#satoru gojo#jjk crack#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff#suguru x reader#suguru x you#suguru x y/n#geto x you#geto x y/n#gojo satoru#nanami kento
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California Gov. Gavin Newsomâs new podcast, âThis Is Gavin Newsom,â might appear at first blush to be a move in the right direction. Mainstream Democrats have been slow to fully embrace non-traditional media and connect with key voters where they are most likely to watch or listen. Newsomâs podcast represents an effort to change that.
But unfortunately, since its launch earlier this month, Newsom has platformed a menagerie of far-right provocateurs, including Charlie Kirk, Michael Savage, and Steve Bannon. Whoâs next â Chaya Raichik from Libs of TikTok?
Itâs not a secret Newsom wants to be president, and perhaps he interpreted Kamala Harrisâs defeat as evidence that Democrats have shifted too far to the left and are out of touch with âaverageâ Americans. Thatâs often how Democrats process defeat, but itâs not 2004 anymore. The last thing Democrats need right now is a liberal-hosted podcast showcasing guests who spent the past decade spreading the very propaganda and disinformation that returned Donald Trump to power and is tearing down our democracy.
Initial response to Newsomâs podcast has borne out that nobody really wants what heâs selling: A recent poll of California voters reveals his favorability among Democrats has dropped significantly since he launched his podcast, and heâs gained no ground among Republicans. Thatâs not a shock. After listening to the first few episodes of âThis Is Gavin Newsom,â itâs clear that Newsom isnât interested in aggressively confronting his guests and exposing them for what they really are. Instead, heâs sanitizing extremists for a left-of-center audience.
The podcastâs entire premise is rooted in an outdated both-sides view of liberals and conservatives: âItâs time to have honest discussions with people that agree AND disagree with us. It's time to answer the hard questions and be open to criticism, and debate without demeaning or dehumanizing one other.â
That sounds nice, but itâs incredibly naive to believe that Kirk, Savage, or Bannon are interested in good-faith debate with people who disagree with them. They actively demonize and âotherâ their political opponents and anyone whoâs simply different, yet Newsom engages with them as if they have reasonable perspectives and coherent policy positions.
Amplifying the views of people who want to torch our democracy â and are actually doing so right now! â is an incredibly irresponsible and dangerous exercise. It also shows how out of touch Newsom is with our current political moment.
An exercise in normalization
To be clear, thereâs merit in engaging with your political opposition. In recent years, for example, Pete Buttigieg has regularly appeared on Fox News, where his objective is to reach people who might never hear the liberal side of issues (or even factual arguments). He remains scrupulously on message and dismantles right-wing talking points in a hostile environment. Democratic political strategist Jessica Tarlov is an equally effective political communicator as a co-host on âThe Five.â
Newsom, however, seems completely out of his element with his far-right guests. Bannon, a convicted felon, mostly dog-walked the governor during a conversation that the New York Times generously described as âfriendly sparring.â Within less than a minute, they were actually joking about tariffs, which Trump is using to wage economic war against our closest ally, Canada. Newsom said heâs not an âabsolutist as it relates to being against tariffsâ and sounded like a Fox News host when he told his listeners that Democrats didnât âscream and yellâ when Joe Biden tripled tariffs on Chinese metals.
Anyone not deeply plugged into politics could be forgiven for listening to this interview and coming away thinking that Bannon is a reasonable guy, a self-proclaimed âKennedy Democrat.â Newsom let Bannon spin his âAmerica Firstâ ideology as working-class populism for people of all creeds and colors. Of course, Bannon later referred to Elizabeth Warren as âPocahontas,â a racist slur, which Newsom only meekly corrected rather than directly tying it to Bannonâs demonstrated history of racist rhetoric, specifically the âGreat Replacementâ conspiracy theory that heâs repeatedly promoted on his podcast.
Even worse, Newsom offered little pushback as Bannon spread his usual lies about the 2020 election. Bannon said âwe disagreeâ that Biden won and Trump lost as if itâs a matter of spirited debate and not a democracy-destroying whopper. Newsom didnât call out Bannon for fanning the flames of the Big Lie or mention that Bannon had told his podcast listeners on January 5 that âall hell is going to break loose tomorrow.â
Newsom never even brought up that Bannon was jailed for contempt after he defied a subpoena from the January 6 committee. He didnât press Bannon on his âflood the zone with shitâ strategy that has destroyed modern politics and that Trump has used to horrifying effect so far in his second term. No, Newsom just maintained a polite dinner party discussion.
Newsom took the same approach to his interview with rightwing commentator Michael Savage, who MSNBC fired in 2003 when he angrily told a caller, âYou should only get AIDS and die, you pig.â Savage said in January that Trump should reinstate his Muslim ban and shut down mosques. Newsom never confronted his bigotry. Instead, they chatted cordially like old friends.
Newsom fawned over his first guest Charlie Kirkâs ânext-levelâ TikTok posts and revealed his 13-year-old son is a fan. Thatâs disturbing considering Kirk is a bigot and misogynist, who complained during the 2024 campaign that women might âundermine their husbandsâ and vote for Kamala Harris.
The interview made headlines because Newsom said he was âalignedâ with Kirk on trans issues. He claimed it was âdeeply unfairâ for trans women to play womenâs sports and seemed to agree with Kirk about restrictions on gender affirming care. (Watch below.)
Kirk, for what itâs worth, seemed surprised that Newsom was so fawning.
âGovernor Newsom was being over-effusive in his praise of me,â Kirk said on a subsequent edition of his show, adding that he believes Newsom âhas done unspeakable harm to the great people of California.â
Itâs disappointing that Newsom would legitimize Kirkâs transphobia when Republicans have demonstrated over and over in recent years that theyâre not interested in âfairnessâ for women or anyone else.
Trump is throwing trans people out of the military on openly bigoted grounds. Republicans at the state and federal level are seeking to force trans people out of public life. Yet rather than challenge Kirkâs repulsive views about trans people, Newsom seems open to abandoning a vulnerable group thatâs under relentless attack because he believes it advances his political ambitions.
Some people just need to be shunned
Newsom defenders have argued that itâs a smart move for the governor to rebrand himself. After all, the party just nominated a California liberal and lost, so Democratic voters might need some convincing before choosing another of his kind.
But while Newsom has a history of challenging rightwing extremists â see his impressive performance against Ron DeSantis during their 2023 Fox News debate â he now seems eager cozy up to them.
Newsom told Savage heâs âfascinatedâ by Putin patsy Tucker Carlson, who he considers âsmartâ and would love to have on his show. And Newsom seemed almost desperate to be pals with Steve Bannon by the end of their interview, going as far as to tell him âI appreciate your advocacy.â (Watch below â clip via Yashar.)
Itâs possible that Newsom â whose most recent episode features a more characteristic interview with Tim Walz â is learning from his mistakes. But if he wants his show to be a place where Democrats take bold stands on issues like trans rights, he might consider booking an actual trans person instead of hosting one white guy after the next.
Thereâs nothing wrong with truly reaching across the aisle to Republicans who still support democracy and basic tolerance, and itâs not Newsomâs fault that conservatives of that sort have become an endangered species. But thereâs no value in pretending that the likes of Bannon and Kirk are anything more than propagandists for a hateful and destructive cause. And itâs not like thereâs a shortage of Democrats who Newsom could engage in substantive and compelling debates.
The current Donald Trump/Elon Musk horror show demands a strong opposition party with leaders who are willing to fight, not submit. Newsomâs podcast has shown more of the latter than the former. If âThis is Gavin Newsomâ is meant to serve as a 2028 audition, heâs stumbled out of the gates.
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It's crazy how misinformation keeps being spread. I saw a person on twitter who had a lot of followers and a podcast about f1 saying ferrari asked what tires carlos thought it was better and carlos answered "soft". And then they gave the soft to charles and hard to carlos.
When someone posted the transcription of the radio (from twitter user team55) that shows carlos answered "hards or softs" they said the transcription was wrong.
When someone mentioned ferrari wanted to give charles hards but charles refused, they said its not true and the only reason they gave charles soft was because carlos said it was the better tire.
I went back to listen the radios and the person is simply lying.
Ferrari asked carlos what he prefer between mediums, soft or hards and he said "hards or soft"
Ferrari told charles they were thinking about putting hards and he said "no that's stupid".
So whats the point to make up things like this ? Just so people can keep the narrative that carlos is the strategy master and ferrari favors charles ?
And it's one thing if it was just a random account but it's someone with a plataform. there's a lot of fans that don't have access to f1tv there are just believing what this person said.
Hi Anon! I feel like the F1 broadcasts have hugely contributed to this perception of Carlos being a strategic mastermind by being very selective about what they broadcast from team radio. Drive to Survive gets picked on for painting false narratives, but the main broadcast is, at times, just as bad. They pick and choose team radio, sometimes don't broadcast everything that was said or omit follow-up radio that puts the original one in a different light, or don't transcribe it correctly ("There was a cut." when Charles said "There was a cat." comes to mind). I do like that they put "I'm OK." on screen when a driver has crashed and they know from team radio the driver is okay. And I also understand it takes a little while to transcribe team radio. But to my recollection they have never actually said it's just a standard message they use, and instead they make it seem like they are quoting the driver, who in fact may have said, "I'm in the fucking wall." or "Red flag! Red flag! I'm in the middle of the track!!!"
Anyway, on to your point: why make things up? For the same reason drivers lie (and yes, they all do at one point or another) when they are on team radio or talking to the media. To make themselves look good/innocent. And some go to far more extremes than others. Fans are no different: we are biased towards our fave and have a really hard time accepting when he does something we don't like or agree with, as our meow meow just can do no wrong. Some people come up with excuses, others with just blatant lies. See recently Lestappen fans when Max chose Lando, Daniel and Checo as his top 3 friends on the grid, and they said he had to pick Checo because he's his teammate, otherwise he would've said Charles. Could be true, but that would still only put Charles as his 3rd best friend. Wouldn't Max have put Charles as his undisputed number 1 if they are really that close?
Sorry, I digress. The point is, we all need to use critical thinking to the best of our ability, check facts when we can, and try not to stay in a vacuum of like-minded people, but it's unavoidable to have false narratives slip in when it is being fed to us every race weekend. Commentators are biased and although we expect them to be objective, they often are not. I stopped listening to Sky, but it is incredibly clear Crofty's favourite driver is Norris, Chandhok is a Carlos-fan, etc. And you are right, not everyone has access to F1TV to check the onboards, but in this case, they do have access to Twitter and can look at more than just the tweets telling them lies.
In case anyone needs proof of what Charles said:
đ„ bliss_n16
#i spent entirely too much time looking for the team radio#but felt it necessary to include it in the post#also sorry for turning this into an essay#anon ask#spanish gp 2024#charles leclerc
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Hey mystic
I was gonna link an ask from earlier but i cant seem to put links in here for some reason and google is not helping. Its the one about the non-dualism community and how toxic it can be. I just wanted to say I am glad others agree. I wouldn't consider myself a beginner to loa manifesting or shifting. I just think its crazy how someone says things like "just be" and someone asks them to clarify it and they respond by saying something like "do you need help drinking water."
Trends come and go, I'm sure once ND is no longer new someone else will unearth some old spiritual practice and claim its above LOA as well. I just wish everyone would be accepting and encouraging instead of what seems to be condescending because they think they know something no one else does.
Lastly I heard you say on the podcast the person you were gonna do it with is no longer in your life, sorry to hear that. I only bring this up because I believe I saw a post saying you manifested this person into your life and then they changed (I could be wrong though). I also manifested someone back (an ex) but it was a 'manifestation' and all i ended up creating was misery.
You don't have to answer this if the last part is too personal, but if you want send me a message. Just wanted to say I think you have some great views that resonated.
Great podcast btw
I completely agree with you and I'm glad that others are able to see the madness that I'm seeing.
What they usually mean by telling you all, "just be" is they're telling you to realize your true self as awareness. They're telling you to just recognize your divine nature in the present moment and enjoy knowing yourself.
I don't see why they don't just tell you to turn within and recognize your true self as awareness in this present moment without all the riddles.
I agree that everyone here should turn within themselves and listen to their inner guidance instead of relying on the "others" for advice, because then the constant search and craving for more answers will never end. However, at the same time, it's the polite and helpful thing to do to let your readers know exactly what they're looking for while you advise for them to look within themselves for the truth: realizing divine the source of your true self.
If everyone knew what they were looking for, I think they would have an easier time turning within and trusting their inner voice to lead them to answers.
I feel as if the lack of clarification on exactly what to look for is unnecessary and it can come off as mind games instead of just being direct with the readers and telling them all, "you're turning within to realize your true nature. Hint: you are always *aware.*"
I happen to notice from time to time as well that some of these bloggers feel the need to use the whole "words are meaningless" nonsense as a moronic excuse to bully or put down other blogs amongst themselves or with their anons for simply viewing things in a different perspective and I don't think that's cool for anyone to do.
That behavior isn't right. It's just plain mean.
Everyone is entitled to their own perspective and share their own views, but to publicly put down specific blog names for everyone to hear and make fun of them together? Very condescending and cold.
Oh, believe me, I'm waiting for the next spiritual trend to come out of nowhere. I wonder what it's going to be next. Now my curiosity is in flames.
To end things here, I want to thank you so much for your kinds words and the lovely compliment.
Your feedback and appreciation for the podcast means so much to me. I'm so very glad to hear that my perspective of things resonated with you.
Thank you for enjoying my podcast.
#awareness#reality warping#manifesting#nondualism#reality creation#manifestation#consciousness#nonduality#self-realization
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Anyway, uh, it's been busy so here is a brief (lies, it's not brief, but I promise I'm only giving the highlights) summary of the last month.
Break for very long post
The Last Month - Abridged
F & I are splitting up (sorta). The hardest one to write, but it's going up top 1. because it came first and 2. because if I don't start with it I simply won't write it out. It's been slowly moving towards this for awhile now, but it's real now. Mostly, it's a case of conflicting needs and conflicting disabilities, so it's been rough on both sides. We're still living together, and planning to continue that way (even if we weren't though, who could afford the rent?) so it's still family of a sort, but not like it was
I uncovered a major issue at work (~2 days after F had me start sleeping on the futon) and it was a mess but we got it resolved within two days
Less than an hour after finding the issue mentioned above, I got the call that the relative I was planning on visiting in a week died
I figured risking air travel was probably a bad idea. It'd probably end fine, but I've not yet been trapped somewhere with one of the worse perfumes and a metal box hundreds of feet in the air with no ability to leave for several hours seems like a poor place to risk seeing exactly how far these reactions can go. (I don't want a joint funeral, I'm not catholic). So I chose to drive through the night instead - which is also a bad idea, but what can you do? Packing with no idea about how things are going to go was it's own mess.
The drive went surprisingly well. I took as few stops as possible and I have a new odor reducing respirator that is helping a lot - so it was only a handful of reactions & I was ready to stomp them out each time (yay albuterol & xyzal). Pretty much drove straight through except for gas and a 30min catnap here and there (don't try this at home kids, I'm setting a bad example). My good friend driving-though-the-dark-alone-listening-to-a-horror-podcast kept me awake just fine (I love you Left Right Game) (but again, don't try this at home)
Did the funeral things, got super sick in the church but was alright at the other venues. I must have looked really bad in the church though because my family didn't make a single snide remark about me bringing my dog on the trip during the entire time I was there.
Helped out with moving things around the house and dispersing some possessions. I drove a bunch of clothes (fragrant đ€Š but I had them in trash bags so it was mostly okay) back with me to donate to the various queer orgs around here. They'll appreciate the old natural fiber clothes more than the goodwill where most of it was going.
Made a detour specifically to bring my dog to the Atlantic. She had a blast. Nova has now officially crossed the country (W->E and also S->N).
On the drive back I went hiking the farthest I've been from a city in a long time and I felt so fucking alive. On the one hand, stunning experience - did 7mi (11km) in snow no problem as a short hike (since I was trying to make it back to bring F to a medical appointment) and I would have stayed out all day if I could. On the other hand, it's a little concerning if the only place I feel like myself is that far away from people. I can't afford a house & land in the middle of nowhereâŠ
Also stopped by a place we used to live and walked our old neighborhood route. Nova was excited, but confused.
Wound up in a different park after hours and it might have been haunted
Made it back the day before F's appointment. Slept. Discovered that the one provider I liked less than the others (despite them all being equally friendly) uses perfume so I've just been allergic to them instead of disliking them for no reason (I kinda suspected so, but it was proven this time)
Had a rheumatology appointment to see if they had ideas about what my issue might be. This is the first time I have seen a doctor realize what it means when I say I'm having these reactions to fragrances, you could see it play out on her face: oh shit, fragrances are everywhere. Several times throughout the appointment she'd pause as she had a thought and then ask questions that were clearly checking in on my life outside of just the symptoms (e.g. "how do you get groceries?") which is something I haven't seen since F's GP (whose interest was in public health) moved away. I think it went well. She's running the usual bloodwork, partly just to check and partly because she knows that having ruled out some things already will make it more likely for me to get care from an allergist.
Toured more houses for rent, it just made me incredibly sad. You can see traces of someone's beloved home in some of these old houses, but landlords own them now and they just don't bother. Rotting garages, fences in pieces, trash in the yard, holes in the walls, doors that can't open all the way anymore. 'Just let the tenant do the work and foot the bill, people are desperate, we can let the house rot around them while they pay for the privilege and just buy another when it pops up.' (I have feelings on the matter)
Finally got my covid & flu shots. I had timed it specifically for when our favorite pharmacist works, but I hadn't considered the holiday rush would mean they have two on duty. I instead got our least favorite pharmacist (she does not like F) and it was an impressively bad experience. Sure love it when you tell a provider something has given you side effects every time and they tell you it won't do it đ /s
Rheumatology bloodwork is back, I love receiving results online. I'm very interested in what she'll say at the follow up this week. By my read (science nerd, but no relevant medical training), it's⊠odd. A little contradictory, but it's indicating some shit is up - however, none of the main contenders would explain my fragrance reactions.
Got to volunteer with a conservation group in a safe area for me. Had a fantastic time, was able to be around people and move and do something productive and satisfying. Went back again and will continue trying to do these as I can.
Went with F to her allergy appointment and, ironically, had reactions myself the entire time. Not just in the waiting room, but everywhere in the building. Maybe it was their disinfectant? Hoping it was just a fluke because I used to be able to go there, even while dealing with this.
My allergy appointment went poorly, there's another (long) post about it, but the gist is that I now have VCD in my chart (despite the fact he said he doesn't know what is wrong with me and said maybe I should go to Mayo Clinic) & tests he didn't mention
I am currently arguing with insurance over >$10k and I'm not having fun
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Stephen Robinson at Public Notice:
California Gov. Gavin Newsomâs new podcast, âThis Is Gavin Newsom,â might appear at first blush to be a move in the right direction. Mainstream Democrats have been slow to fully embrace non-traditional media and connect with key voters where they are most likely to watch or listen. Newsomâs podcast represents an effort to change that. But unfortunately, since its launch earlier this month, Newsom has platformed a menagerie of far-right provocateurs, including Charlie Kirk, Michael Savage, and Steve Bannon. Whoâs next â Chaya Raichik from Libs of TikTok? Itâs not a secret Newsom wants to be president, and perhaps he interpreted Kamala Harrisâs defeat as evidence that Democrats have shifted too far to the left and are out of touch with âaverageâ Americans. Thatâs often how Democrats process defeat, but itâs not 2004 anymore. The last thing Democrats need right now is a liberal-hosted podcast showcasing guests who spent the past decade spreading the very propaganda and disinformation that returned Donald Trump to power and is tearing down our democracy.
Initial response to Newsomâs podcast has borne out that nobody really wants what heâs selling: A recent poll of California voters reveals his favorability among Democrats has dropped significantly since he launched his podcast, and heâs gained no ground among Republicans. Thatâs not a shock. After listening to the first few episodes of âThis Is Gavin Newsom,â itâs clear that Newsom isnât interested in aggressively confronting his guests and exposing them for what they really are. Instead, heâs sanitizing extremists for a left-of-center audience. The podcastâs entire premise is rooted in an outdated both-sides view of liberals and conservatives: âItâs time to have honest discussions with people that agree AND disagree with us. It's time to answer the hard questions and be open to criticism, and debate without demeaning or dehumanizing one other.â That sounds nice, but itâs incredibly naive to believe that Kirk, Savage, or Bannon are interested in good-faith debate with people who disagree with them. They actively demonize and âotherâ their political opponents and anyone whoâs simply different, yet Newsom engages with them as if they have reasonable perspectives and coherent policy positions. Amplifying the views of people who want to torch our democracy â and are actually doing so right now! â is an incredibly irresponsible and dangerous exercise. It also shows how out of touch Newsom is with our current political moment. [...]
Some people just need to be shunned
Newsom defenders have argued that itâs a smart move for the governor to rebrand himself. After all, the party just nominated a California liberal and lost, so Democratic voters might need some convincing before choosing another of his kind. But while Newsom has a history of challenging rightwing extremists â see his impressive performance against Ron DeSantis during their 2023 Fox News debate â he now seems eager cozy up to them. Newsom told Savage heâs âfascinatedâ by Putin patsy Tucker Carlson, who he considers âsmartâ and would love to have on his show. And Newsom seemed almost desperate to be pals with Steve Bannon by the end of their interview, going as far as to tell him âI appreciate your advocacy.â  [...] Itâs possible that Newsom â whose most recent episode features a more characteristic interview with Tim Walz â is learning from his mistakes. But if he wants his show to be a place where Democrats take bold stands on issues like trans rights, he might consider booking an actual trans person instead of hosting one white guy after the next.
Dear Gavin Newsom: Stop buddying up to the likes of Stephen Bannon and Charlie Kirk.
See Also:
Daily Kos: What the hell is Gavin Newsom trying to do?
#This Is Gavin Newsom#Gavin Newsom#Charlie Kirk#Stephen Bannon#Michael Savage#2028 Dems#2028 Presidential Election#2028 Elections#Pete Buttigieg#Jessica Tarlov#Tim Walz
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You have any tips for dealing with burnout?
Iâll tell you what I can, bearing in mind that different things work for different people. Iâll tell you what works for me, I encourage you to give em a try, and see what works. Additionally, I will reiterate that our current system (presuming you live in the West and likely under capitalism) is partially designed to keep you busy, tired, and burned out. If youâre those things, you will be too tired to do anything about the systems that keep you that way.
That in mind:
1: identify the thing(s) that are overworking you, and reduce them as much as possible. I realize that is not necessarily possible when itâs the only way you can keep shelter and food coming or your family can be cared for etc.
2: sleep. Sanitize the hell out of your sleep schedule. Reduce caffeine after noon, keep screens to a minimum. I realize that when youâre burned out sometimes all you want is to crash on a couch and watch a show, Iâve been there. Try not to do that. Try instead crashing on that couch but putting on a podcast to listen to. Keeps the media flowing but at least is not waking your brain up with a screen. Find something with a story, Welcome to Nightvale, the Magnus archives, something to give your mind something to chew on while your body rests. I can give you more sleep tips if you need.
3: youâve gotta find ways to rest not rot. Media consumption doesnât count unfortunately. Burnout will be combatted with fresh happy chemicals coming in, and basic levels of consumption simply wonât do it. Gotta find an activity you like, or people you like, and engage with those. Let your brain defrag with quiet and stillness. Go sit on a curb and count cars for a while. Walk up and down the street no headphones. Play an instrument. Things like this. More hyper quick brain activity wonât help you. Youâve gotta slow down.
Some call this Play and thatâs facts. Like when you were a kid and wanted to go play, do that stuff. Go outside, go for walks, hang out with friends, hell build with legos or draw a picture. Play is doing things just for fun. Your dopamine receptors are gonna be fried from the burnout so youâve gotta reestablish the norms. Starts with play.
4: take a break. Call in sick for a day or two. Then take a vacation day the week after. Have 3 long weekends in a row if you can. Burnout builds up over time and will only be fixed over time.
These are damage mitigation tactics. These will help you get through until you can reduce your overall output to within sustainable levels. They will not carry you forever.
Finally: Unfortunately you have found your limit of activity level and passed it. So, the only way youâre going to fix this (actually, not bandaid it) is to reduce your level. If you canât fix it now, look for how you can do it in the coming months. Figure out a new way of doing things because this is unfortunately outside your capacity. Itâs not a challenge or a failure. Everyone has their limits and youâve found yours. There is honor in strength in times of trouble but if you are counting on your resilience to carry you forever you will eventually find the physical limits. And thatâs what you donât need, when you get so tired you get in a car wreck or pass out on the job.
Stop before you get there homie. Hope this helps.
#anon asks#answered#I know itâs likely all youâve heard before#but thereâs not much to do beyond it#you canât personal choice your way out of systemic problems
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