#And if you've read this far let me tell you one of the standard go to patterns VF carries is the pink blue purple blue combo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ugh-yoongi · 5 months

Text

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly.

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway). When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and… “Kissing,” she says finally. “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.” He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines. “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?” Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion.

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt. “Yeah—want you, Joon.” “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.” “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her. Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does. She hates that he’s right. Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides. It’s perfect. Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy. “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster. “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing. When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes

4K notes · View notes

gender-trash · 7 days

Note

I would be very interested in hearing the museum design rant

by popular demand: Guy That Took One (1) Museum Studies Class Focused On Science Museums Rants About Art Museums. thank u for coming please have a seat

so. background. the concept of the "science museum" grew out of 1) the wunderkammer (cabinet of curiosities), also known as "hey check out all this weird cool shit i have", and 2) academic collections of natural history specimens (usually taxidermied) -- pre-photography these were super important for biological research (see also). early science museums usually grew out of university collections or bequests of some guy's Weird Shit Collection or both, and were focused on utility to researchers rather than educational value to the layperson (picture a room just, full of taxidermy birds with little labels on them and not a lot of curation outside that). eventually i guess they figured they could make more on admission by aiming for a mass audience? or maybe it was the cultural influence of all the world's fairs and shit (many of which also caused science museums to exist), which were aimed at a mass audience. or maybe it was because the research function became much more divorced from the museum function over time. i dunno. ANYWAY, science and technology museums nowadays have basically zero research function; the exhibits are designed more or less solely for educating the layperson (and very frequently the layperson is assumed to be a child, which does honestly irritate me, as an adult who likes to go to science museums). the collections are still there in case someone does need some DNA from one of the preserved bird skins, but items from the collections that are exhibited typically exist in service of the exhibit's conceptual message, rather than the other way around.

meanwhile at art museums they kind of haven't moved on from the "here is my pile of weird shit" paradigm, except it's "here is my pile of Fine Art". as far as i can tell, the thing that curators (and donors!) care about above all is The Collection. what artists are represented in The Collection? rich fucks derive personal prestige from donating their shit to The Collection. in big art museums usually something like 3-5% of the collection is ever on exhibit -- and sometimes they rotate stuff from the vault in and out, but let's be real, only a fraction of an art museum's square footage is temporary exhibits. they're not going to take the scream off display when it's like the only reason anyone who's not a giant nerd ever visits the norwegian national museum of art. most of the stuff in the vault just sits in the vault forever. like -- art museum curators, my dudes, do you think the general public gives a SINGLE FUCK what's in The Collection that isn't on display? no!! but i guarantee you it will never occur, ever, to an art museum curator that they could print-to-scale high-res images of artworks that are NOT in The Collection in order to contextualize the art in an exhibit, because items that are not in The Collection functionally do not exist to them. (and of course there's the deaccessioning discourse -- tumblr collectively has some level of awareness that repatriation is A Whole Kettle of Worms but even just garden-variety selling off parts of The Collection is a huge hairy fucking deal. check out deaccessioning and its discontents; it's a banger read if you're into This Kind Of Thing.)

with the contents of The Collection foregrounded like this, what you wind up with is art museum exhibits where the exhibit's message is kind of downstream of what shit you've got in the collection. often the message is just "here is some art from [century] [location]", or, if someone felt like doing a little exhibit design one fine morning, "here is some art from [century] [location] which is interesting for [reason]". the displays are SOOOOO bad by science museum standards -- if you're lucky you get a little explanatory placard in tiny font relating the art to an art movement or to its historical context or to the artist's career. if you're unlucky you get artist name, date, and medium. fucker most of the people who visit your museum know Jack Shit about art history why are you doing them dirty like this

(if you don't get it you're just not Cultured enough. fuck you, we're the art museum!)

i think i've talked about this before on this blog but the best-exhibited art exhibit i've ever been to was actually at the boston museum of science, in this traveling leonardo da vinci exhibit where they'd done a bunch of historical reconstructions of inventions out of his notebooks, and that was the main Thing, but also they had a whole little exhibit devoted to the mona lisa. obviously they didn't even have the real fucking mona lisa, but they went into a lot of detail on like -- here's some X-ray and UV photos of it, and here's how art experts interpret them. here's a (photo of a) contemporary study of the finished painting, which we've cleaned the yellowed varnish off of, so you can see what the colors looked like before the varnish yellowed. here's why we can't clean the varnish off the actual painting (da vinci used multiple varnish layers and thinned paints to translucency with varnish to create the illusion of depth, which means we now can't remove the yellowed varnish without stripping paint).

even if you don't go into that level of depth about every painting (and how could you? there absolutely wouldn't be space), you could at least talk a little about, like, pigment availability -- pigment availability is an INCREDIBLY useful lens for looking at historical paintings and, unbelievably, never once have i seen an art museum exhibit discuss it (and i've been to a lot of art museums). you know how medieval european religious paintings often have funky skin tones? THEY HADN'T INVENTED CADMIUM PIGMENTS YET. for red pigments you had like... red ochre (a muted earth-based pigment, like all ochres and umbers), vermilion (ESPENSIVE), alizarin crimson (aka madder -- this is one of my favorite reds, but it's cool-toned and NOT good for mixing most skintones), carmine/cochineal (ALSO ESPENSIVE, and purple-ish so you wouldn't want to use it for skintones anyway), red lead/minium (cheaper than vermilion), indian red/various other iron oxide reds, and apparently fucking realgar? sure. whatever. what the hell was i talking about.

oh yeah -- anyway, i'd kill for an art exhibit that's just, like, one or two oil paintings from each century for six centuries, with sample palettes of the pigments they used. but no! if an art museum curator has to put in any level of effort beyond writing up a little placard and maybe a room-level text block, they'll literally keel over and die. dude, every piece of art was made in a material context for a social purpose! it's completely deranged to divorce it from its material context and only mention the social purpose insofar as it matters to art history the field. for god's sake half the time the placard doesn't even tell you if the thing was a commission or not. there's a lot to be said about edo period woodblock prints and mass culture driven by the growing merchant class! the met has a fuckton of edo period prints; they could get a hell of an exhibit out of that!

or, tying back to an earlier thread -- the detroit institute of arts has got a solid like eight picasso paintings. when i went, they were kind of just... hanging out in a room. fuck it, let's make this an exhibit! picasso's an artist who pretty famously had Periods, right? why don't you group the paintings by period, and if you've only got one or two (or even zero!) from a particular period, pad it out with some decent life-size prints so i can compare them and get a better sense for the overarching similarities? and then arrange them all in a timeline, with little summaries of what each Period was ~about~? that'd teach me a hell of a lot more about picasso -- but you'd have to admit you don't have Every Cool Painting Ever in The Collection, which is illegalé.

also thinking about the mit museum temporary exhibit i saw briefly (sorry, i was only there for like 10 minutes because i arrived early for a meeting and didn't get a chance to go through it super thoroughly) of a bunch of ship technical drawings from the Hart nautical collection. if you handed this shit to an art museum curator they'd just stick it on the wall and tell you to stand around and look at it until you Understood. so anyway the mit museum had this enormous room-sized diorama of various hull shapes and how they sat in the water and their benefits and drawbacks, placed below the relevant technical drawings.

tbh i think the main problem is that art museum people and science museum people are completely different sets of people, trained in completely different curatorial traditions. it would not occur to an art museum curator to do anything like this because they're probably from the ~art world~ -- maybe they have experience working at an art gallery, or working as an art buyer for a rich collector, neither of which is in any way pedagogical. nobody thinks an exhibit of historical clothing should work like a clothing store but it's fine when it's art, i guess?

also the experience of going to an art museum is pretty user-hostile, i have to say. there's never enough benches, and if you want a backrest, fuck you. fuck you if going up stairs is painful; use our shitty elevator in the corner that we begrudgingly have for wheelchair accessibility, if you can find it. fuck you if you can't see very well, and need to be closer to the art. fuck you if you need to hydrate or eat food regularly; go to our stupid little overpriced cafeteria, and fuck you if we don't actually sell any food you can eat. (obviously you don't want someone accidentally spilling a smoothie on the art, but there's no reason you couldn't provide little Safe For Eating Rooms where people could just duck in and monch a protein bar, except that then you couldn't sell them a $30 salad at the cafe.) fuck you if you're overwhelmed by noise in echoing rooms with hard surfaces and a lot of people in them. fuck you if you are TOO SHORT and so our overhead illumination generates BRIGHT REFLECTIONS ON THE SHINY VARNISH. we're the art museum! we don't give a shit!!!

#so anyway i love going to art museums--#the trashcan speaks #long post

1K notes · View notes

makenoplans · 7 months

Text

all gale banter! (that i am currently aware of)

hiii gale enthusiasts, i just spent the past few hours picking through videos trying to find all of gales party banter and transcribing it! check under the cut for verbose details

copied directly from the doc i transcribed this into so youll have to bear with the initials to denote who is speaking when! generally speaking, initials are a=astarion, g=gale, h=halsin, j=jaheira, k=karlach, l=lae'zel, m=minthara, s=shadowheart, and w=wyll

(except for two minsc quotes that are also m, both where he mentions his name so like... it's obvious)

transcribed with attention paid to particular noises characters make that aren't quite whole words and also words that are emphasized!

please let me know if youre aware of any banter ive missed!

warning: long

G: Karlach! A hypothetical question for you. If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another… unnamed individual, erm, what might that someone… do about it?

K: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale! And leave out the hypotheticals.

G: Talking. Right! I'm good at that!

A: So, Gale, how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

G: [Ach!] I'm hardly pining! Been a year or more since Mystra cast me aside!

A: Oh, my dear wizard, I wasn't talking about Mystra.

W: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed, but Gale, you are so much more tolerable now that you've found your second.

G: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended.

G: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, er, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll?

W: I think I'm not the right person to be asking. I can recognize a troll silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

G: I see you waste no time pursuing your quarry, Astarion.

A: Hmph! I rather thought I was a little slow this time. Usually they're begging me to dream them on the first night.

G: Tell me - you always woo your lovers with such patient attention?

A: As the vampire ascendant I can grant my lover immortality and bind them to me forever.

G: Hmm. I trust you speak of the bonds of love, not the shackles of servitude.

G: Am I to understand that you are in love now, Karlach?

K: I sure am. [heh] If there's hope for me, there's hope for anyone.

G: I'm surprised you're permitted to choose a partner outside of your own people.

L: We had to use and misuse each civilization in the stars in every way we know. I do not conquer by blade alone, Gale.

G: I can't imagine Mother Gith would approve. Doesn't she prefer us lesser species enslaved? Or eviscerated?

M: You've been smiling like a fool of late, wizard. Explain yourself.

G: I found love. Surely even you wouldn't begrudge me some happiness?

M: All I can say on the matter is that you were wise to lower your standards from the godly to the ghastly.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel: is it common for githyanki to fall in love?

L: Love? Is that this feeling in me, then? This passion to peel every layer of one's heart to see what light and shadows lurk there? I doubt I am the first githyanki to… to feel this way, but few would ever declare it. Githyanki have playmates, thrill partners but I've never heard anyone profess love, nor read of it in our slates.

L: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

G: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel. The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

G: If you're feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don't mind donating some blood.

A: Aha! Well, you're still full of that Netherese bile, I'll pass, thank you! Besides, I have someone else to nibble on, and they are delicious.

G: I'm glad to know you have a softer side, Minthara. I was beginning to think you rather… heartless.

M: Loving another is not soft, wizard. It is one of the hardest things a person can do.

G: So you admit you found love! Aww. How delightful. I'm happy for you both.

A: So, how was your night with Gale? Did you have a long, hard debate?

G: Ugh. Ignore him. Astarion envies the depth of a bond because he's of a shallower inclination.

G: So Astarion, I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently.

A: My life has taken on "a new aspect." It's only natural that my relationships change as well.

G: Halsin! You must have accumulated considerable wisdom on matters of the heart in your long life. Anything you'd like to pass on to a… strapping, lovestruck wizard such as myself?

H: [hehehe] Dispensing advice on matters of the heart would be like swapping boots. What suits me may be a… poor fit for you.

G: Ah. Well. There's no faulting that logic. At least you didn't tell me to "be myself."

H: Oh no, perish the thought. That can be outright cruel advice to offer in certain cases.

G: Indulge me, Lae'zel, as someone unfettered by Faerunian beauty standards: how would you appraise my appearance?

L: Your beard looks like the hairy tufts upon the [surlon], the largest of wyrmkind that sliver our skies.

G: Hm. I suppose that's… a bad thing? No. Don't answer that.

G: Wild-shaping must sprinkle some spice on your love life, Halsin.

H: Heh. Indeed it does. Did you… never experience such delights with Mystra? I, uh, hear the gods enjoy taking on the forms of swans, horses, eagles and the like when… visiting with mortals?

G: Oh no, quite the opposite, actually! She mostly preferred our interactions to be abstract, and incorporeal. Most invigorating.

G: So, Lae'zel, have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, uh, romantic endeavors?

L: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time?

G: Fascinating! I think the arch-mage Tasha described a spell with similar affect! I really must look that up.

G: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Passionate! Primal! Capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort - or - inflicting the profoundest damage.

L: That's… pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But… now I will.

G: I've been pondering something, Lae'zel. Why is it that githyanki have bellybuttons, hm? When they hatch from eggs?

L: I did not grant you permission to gaze upon my midriff.

G: I- I wasn't gazing! Merely observing! Though that can hardly be said for a certain someone else.

G: Y'know, Karlach, there are other ways to express love beyond run-of-the-mill physicality.

K: Ugh! Are you going to try and teach me about exceptional uses for a mage hand or what?

G: W-well actually, I was thinking of poetry!

K: Oops. Sorry. But, uh, now that I think of it… is mage hand especially hard to learn?

G: Even shaped by shadow as it is, Sharran architecture has a kind of beauty to it.

K: Beautifully intimidating. This place was meant to scare people into submission.

G: There you go. Cutting right through the ephemera to the heart of the matter. Hm! Your finest quality, I think.

K: Uh. Here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

G: Nothing wrong with a bit of friction now and then. You help me keep my mind sharp.

K: Aw, thanks, pal! I think.

G: When we met, Shadowheart, your gaze seemed to linger in the distance on some unseen goal, some insubstantial purpose. But I notice now your gaze settles on something or someone much closer.

S: Is it that obvious?

G: Of course! There's nothing escapes a wizard's powers of observation.

A: I gave my return to Baldur's Gate a lot of thought. I never pictured this, though.

G: Ah, what did you have in mind? A quiet party? Toasting your own return with a few good friends?

A: Less "quiet party with friends", more "days of hedonistic debauchery", but otherwise… yes!

G: Hmm. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. But you know what? I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

G: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, "wizard" is also a term used for one who eschews their more, [hr-hrm] carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll?

W: Where are we going with this, Gale?

G: Oh, nowhere. Just think it's a rather cruel misnomer, not at all reflective of the glamor wizarding life affords.

A: So Gale, you laid with a goddess? You must have some sordid tales to tell.

G: Sordid? I lay with the Mother of Magic herself! What we had was… transcendent. Euphoric. Incandescent. Not sordid!

A: You actually made sleeping with a goddess sound boring. Hm. Incredible.

A: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale?

G: Uhh… sure! In silence.

G: When you've loved a goddess as I have, people often think you less experienced in the way of romance.

S: She just lives on another plane! [heh] Only jesting. I'm in no position to judge, especially after what happened with Shar.

G: It's true for a time, I neglected the physical in favor of celestial euphoria. But our relationship was no less real for it.

G: I feel I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have… must change a person.

A: Thank you, Gale, but let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

A: So, do you have loves waiting for you once this is all over?

G: You know what, that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

S: You mean just… waiting? Like a lovesick puppy?

M: Do you have elder siblings, wizard?

G: You're about to say something awful, aren't you?

M: In Menzoberranzan, after a house has two sons, every subsequent male-born child is slaughtered at birth, as it is useless, even for breeding. You have the aura of a third child about you.

G: The architect who built this must have been remarkable. Pity their vision didn't stand the test of time.

K: All's not lost. I mean, just look at this place!

G: You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

K: Hope keeps you going.

K: So Gale, got any book recommendations for me?

G: You can read?

K: Hmph. Yes, very funny. I can read. School put me off big, boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.

G: Ah! Say no more. I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep, ooh.

K: Ooh, something with magic please! And no devils!

G: Do you feel that? The darkness, pulling at the strands of the Weave?

K: Er, you'll still be able to do your wizard thing though, right?

G: Of course. Doesn't make the shadows less dangerous.

K: Joy.

M: Gale. Minsc worries you might send a fireball up his butt with all of this… stringy hair in your face.

G: Is that why you keep your head shaved? I assumed it was a custom of some sort.

M: Oh, no. Most warriors of [Rashinan] wear long battle braids weighed down with stone. Minsc can show you, when next we camp.

G: Thank you, but I'm more wizard than warrior. Not sure my scalp would stand up to such a plaiting.

A: Gods! We're not back, are we?

G: On the Nautiloid, no. This is a different nursery. Similar, but not identical. There's likely one in every colony.

A: I don't care what's in every mind flayer colony, Gale. Nobody does. Except you.

A: Ugh, another ruined temple full of foul-smelling beasts spoiling for a fight.

G: No mere temple. This was a monastery, devoted as much to study as to worship.

A: Oh, how ignorant of me. So it'll be free of foul-smelling beasts then?

G: Quite the opposite. Some monastic orders celebrated their pungency as proof of their devotion. "To think is to stink" was the motto of one ill-fated brotherhood near Arm. Oh! Huh, but you meant beasts of the life-threatening variety. Yes I'm sure it's teeming with those.

A: Moonlanterns to keep the curse back? Burly guards to fight off any monsters? I could get used to this place.

G: Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

A: No, of course! Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

H: Ah, Last Light Inn. Half aglow and lanterns lit. Just like a hundred years ago.

G: I imagine the vista was more idyllic back then. As were its patrons' chances of surviving the walk home.

H: [Grunt.] Still though, when you are expecting nothing but desolation, even a small glimmer of hope fills the heart. To think long ago, the druids feared this market down would grow into a city and threaten nature's realm… little did we realize what the true threat was.

G: Divination is a skill few can master. The rest of us must simply muddle along, content to view the past with a clarity the future rarely offers.

H: Perhaps I can yet turn hindsight into foresight, provided the curse is lifted. The better way for all. Whole generations were denied their chance to flourish… I must put this right, for them.

A: That orb seems powerful. What could it do once it's extracted?

G: Nothing good can come of it unless it is contained. Why.

A: It might be useful. Who knows?

G: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep were far superior - and, they have the most excellent soaps.

S: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager.

A: From sweet woodland to stinking swamp. Can you do tricks like that, Gale?

G: Easiest thing in the world. Though I'd do it the other way around.

H: Brickwork and stonework. This place is far out of balance with nature, but the Oak Father will reclaim this all eventually.

G: Not too soon, I hope! I've a craving for a soft bed, a hot bath, and a large glass of Arabellan Dry. None of which I've ever found hidden under a log.

H: Hah, you may thrive, but what of other life? A city is no place for wild creatures.

G: Cities teem with life! Rats, pigeons, flies… they count no less, for all their more pestilent qualities.

G: The Society of brilliance has quite the reputation. Even Waterdhavian academics refer to their works from time to time.

S: They talk a great deal but do very little. Which may be for the best.

G: I take it you're not inclined to study the wonders of the Underdark?

S: Its inhabitants and cultures, maybe. Its fungi and cave slime, no thank you.

W: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean?

G: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient. Exceedingly dangerous. And quite unrivalled.

A: Wonderful. I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic.

G: Home and hearth, reduced to ruins. The shadow curse stole more than the light from this place.

H: That is why it must be stopped. Imagine a whole century of life and love denied the chance to ever take place.

G: A hidden shrine dedicated to the Moonmaiden herself. Even amidst this darkness, Selunites are stubborn enough to cling on.

K: Pretty beautiful, isn't it?

G: Look around you! Indulge your curiosity! Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around.

K: Where's the axes?

G: What they sell is far more precious than mere sword or shield! They sell knowledge! Ingenuity! The wisdom of mages past.

K: [yawns] Ugh, sounds like more your thing than mine.

K: Doing alright, Gale?

G: Oh, you know. Still alive and kicking despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of… darkness and decay.

K: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

G: It strikes me that, for a mind flayer colony, there are remarkably few mind flayers about the place.

K: Squiddies have gone to war, is my guess.

G: On the Absolute's behalf? Now there's an alliance I'd've been quite happy without.

K: Aw, man, adventuring is thirsty work.

G: There used to be a monastery in this region known for producing a wonderful ale.

K: Ah, that sounds like heaven. Wait. Used to?

G: Oh yes, long ruined, I'm afraid. No chance of a frothing pitcher awaiting us there, but still. At least your thirst for knowledge is quenced!

K: Ugh!

W: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place is a boastworthy bar.

G: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect on its racks?

W: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents.

G: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is!

K: We're not taking a boat to Baldur's Gate, right?

G: And give the Absolute free reign to use us as target practice from the banks? I think not!

K: Ugh. My mum always said the Chionthat was unlucky.

G: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep?

K: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say… a long way away.

G: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

G: Nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

K: I was just thinking the same thing! But… poetically.

G: And without so much as a stirring from our tadpoles.

K: A girl could get used to this.

L: These children and their pets lack discipline. Were they githyanki, I'd recommend further training.

G: Not everyone approaches the raising of their young with such militaristic vigor.

L: That is the very purpose of training. To determine which children shall be warriors, and which are suited to other roles. As for the unruly animals, they would make for nutritious marching rations.

G: Mm, that's certainly one way to make them behave.

L: These flowers are quite vivid, not to mention pungent. Not to my liking.

G: Are there no flowers in [tunirath]?

L: In the city of death, the m'lar cultivate the fruiting bodies that sprout from the corpses of the slain.

G: Huh. I'd rather get them from my florist in Waterdeep, if it's all the same to you.

G: That zaith'isk you mentioned intrigues me. Care to tell me a bit more?

L: An intricate device crafted by m'lar, our most gifted artisans. I am sworn to say no more.

S: Why must the Dead Three be so obvious and ugly with their decor? Blood and bones, bones and blood… Pointy nonsense. At least Shar had some panache.

G: As did Mystra's home on Elysium. Her ribbed vaults and buttresses created a magic entirely of their own… not to mention their pleasure domes.

S: Hah! Pleasure dome.

G: It's a perfectly legitimate architectural feature!

G: The road to Baldur's Gate is a long one. Who knows how long it'll take these folks to get there on foot.

S: If they make it. They're slow, vulnerable. Half or more will die long before Basilisk Gate.

G: Doesn't seem to trouble you a jot.

S: What good would it do for me to be troubled? We can't save them all.

S: You seem to know a good deal about our condition, Gale.

G: Everything, really. Not to put too fine a point on it.

S: A humble specimen, aren't you?

G: On occasion.

G: They're not mutually exclusive! The weave is served best with a dash of eloquence.

G: There's magic here, but it's of a rancid, impure form. Nothing like the true Weave at all.

L: This is why I appreciate a sharp blade to a ball of fire or a bolt of lightning. The Weave is inconsistent, unruly.

G: The Weave is constant, but its users - anything but. We must be on our guard.

L: A githyanki warrior hardly needs to be told that.

L: What is this? This place makes me feel sad, melancholy.

G: Ah, so you're susceptible to the tragedy of a broken home. Maybe you've more in common with us weaker beings than you thought.

L: There's no call to be insulting.

G: Not to diminish our efforts, but. Was rather simple getting here in the end, wasn't it?

L: The obstacles ahead prove to be higher still, which will make the pleasure of overcoming them all the more potent. Imagine the glorious din of it all, the streaming banners, the charging knights. The piles of severed limbs and heads.

G: Mm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.

G: Whatever I expected to find lurking in this cursed gloom, it certainly wasn't this. A glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

S: That's one way of looking at it. You could also say it's a prime target, the one pocket of light in the gloom.

G: Oh pragmatism, thy name is Shadowheart. You're not wrong, though. Best we keep our sojourn here to a minimum.

G: So! Shadowheart. Such a name implies yours is a difficult heart to find.

S: It's not that hard to find. Perhaps any difficulty is more telling of you, Gale.

G: I always wondered what a vampire's lair would look like. Can't say I pictured it being quite this… theatrical.

L: I find it surprisingly similar to Queen Vlaakith's aesthetic.

G: That makes sense. She does have a flair for the dramatic.

G: No day, no night. It's as though time itself has abandoned this place. Similar to the Astral Plane in some ways, wouldn't you say, Lae'zel?

L: Mm, hardly. It is said that the Astral Plane is threaded with light and silver, life-giving and wondrous in all directions. Nothing like this dismal abyss.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel, what is it like on the Astral Plane? Your home realm intrigues me.

L: Githyanki lay their eggs on other planes. They cannot mature in the Astral.

L: A tadpole nursery, as on the Nautiloid.

G: Quite right, so long as the attempt won't leave us similarly dismantled.

L: Caution is commendable. Boldness is extraordinary. In this case, I recommend the latter.

W: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name.

G: I take it you have some suggestions?

W: The Wizard Wonder. Or, how about… the Master of the Weave?

G: Tempting, but I think we already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.

G: Pigeons, gulls, sparrows. These streets would make a fine hunting ground for a tressym like Tara.

M: In the Underdark, we have packs of winged hounds to deal with vermin like your precious Tara.

G: Flying hounds? Come now, you're pulling my leg. Aren't you?

M: Yes, I am. It is the bats that would make a meal of her.

M: Umberlee. Her clerics possess a nasty streak as wide as her oceans.

G: So their reputation suggests, especially among the good folk of Waterdeep. I'm curious to learn how you fell foul of them.

M: Blasphemy, said the temple priestess, but Minsc says do not give horns to your statues if you do not wish the visitors to try and make them toot.

G: Yes. That would probably do it.

W: I admire your courage, Gale.

G: Thank you! Any particular reason?

W: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers.

G: What can I say? Mother always told me to be a gracious host.

G: My, my. Well I'll say this for the bonecloaks: they know their mushrooms.

S: Perhaps they should expand their horizons. Too much time spent obsessing over fungi seems to leave them a bit, well… like them.

G: Oh, a byproduct of their profession. Few can spend a lifetime inhaling fungal spores without turning out a bit… muddled between the years.

W: This is it, Gale. Today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power.

G: Entirely unnecessary. Though, if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration! Whatever outcome of what's just ahead… it will be the stuff of legends.

G: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer, too! I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball.

W: I'd have loved to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

S: What did you mean before, Gale? "A woman with shadows for eyes", you said.

G: Merely that if the eyes are the mirror to the soul, yours have dark curtains across the mirror. No offense taken, I hope.

S: Not necessarily. I haven't made up my mind about you yet.

A: Ever heard of a vampire called Cazador, Wyll?

W: I don't think so, no. Why? Friend of yours?

G: He's patriarch of the Szarr family. Nasty fellow, if the histories are accurate.

A: I imagine they are.

L: The right of these prisoners to die in mortal combat was stolen from them.

G: Hardly the worst atrocity the Absolute's committed.

L: One of many, but by no means the least. To die properly is a matter of honor.

W: This is no aimless horde. The Absolute's forces are organized. What do you make of it, Gale?

G: All enemies have some chink in their armor, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable.

W: And if we don't find any clear weakness?

G: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or! We die nobly in the attempt.

G: I was wondering about your queen, Vlaakith. What tales of her reach us are terrifying. I suppose that's not how you would describe her.

L: Vlaakith is unity. Fear and beauty, life and unlife… eyes like onyx, teeth like daggers. There is none more perfect.

S: Sounds vile. I assume the meaning of perfect was lost in translation.

G: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it.

W: Then let us push forward, head high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble.

G: Your confidence is encouraging, but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead- or eye, as the case may be.

W: Who's in charge of the mind flayers, Lae'zel? Is there a squid king or something?

L: No. Each ghaik is servant to an elder brain. No king unites elders, only their collective tyranny.

G: A mind flayer monarch! Imagine that. Such a thing could shatter worlds!

K: Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

G: Ugh. It's the stairs I'm dreading.

G: No sign of tentacles so far.

S: The same. Except for a knot of worry in my stomach that's in no rush to go away.

G: That I can relate to.

G: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were.

W: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows.

G: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed.

W: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talent to use elsewhere. Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.

S: You seemed quite forward with your compliments earlier. We'd only just met.

G: Seize the day, I say. More now than ever.

S: Careful you don't pull a muscle in this place.

S: Isn't it so that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavoring to call upon Mystra? I'm surprised she still listens to you.

G: She has no choice. She's sworn to hear all magic users. Even me. I'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations.

G: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here. A fascinating resource.

W: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence.

G: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.

G: Look at this place. Such horrors defy description.

S: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime.

S: What if this creche doesn't work out, Lae'zel? What if your kin fail you?

L: If I can reach the creche, my kin will provide. Any failure will be mine alone.

S: If you say so. Just don't expect me to put all my eggs in the same basket.

G: That expression must sound curious to a githyanki ear, given the way they're birthed.

G: Gods. Who knew such a vile abscess lurked in the bedrock of this city? The very stone reeks of misery and despair.

J: Mm. A sad shrine kept by the lunatic and the lost. The last time I was here, I promised myself I would die beneath open sky. I have not changed my mind.

G: Nor should you. Far better to feel a cool breeze on your skin than whatever foul expirations blow through these halls.

A: Eh, can't say I love what they've done with the place.

G: Unsurprising, really. Fanatical cultists tend to care more for ambience then aesthetics.

A: Hrm. Reason enough to put them all to the sword, I say.

A: Heh, what's this? A clever little hideaway. A little too clever, if you ask me. Watch out for traps.

G: Not just clever. Rather ingenious! Somehow its construction keeps the shadow curse away.

S: The end must be near. No regrets, Gale? You may have been better off staying inside this boulder.

G: Unlikely. Had I stayed there much longer, the orb would have reduced it to rubble. Besides, think of all the fun I'd've missed out on.

S: Fun? Well, yes… I suppose we did manage to make the best of things.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #bg3 party banter #party banter

733 notes · View notes

happybird16 · 1 year

Text

"Mhmm," you murmur, eyes fluttering before falling closed yet again.

Something is softly brushing along the top of your head, smoothing small circles into your scalp through your hair. The touch is featherlight. Warm. Fingers?

Heavy with sleep, your eyes slide open yet again. Your brain feels foggy, limbs heavy with lassitude. You nuzzle into your pillow, the white fabric oddly stiff against your cheek. It's firm too. Wait? Why is it warm?

"W-what?" voice rough from sleep, you move to rise. The hand softly caressing your hair slides down to your neck, the fingers applying light pressure.

"Shh," comes a soft voice, warm fingers sliding up to caress your cheek. "It's fine, it's just me."

"Levi?" As fingers shift to wind through the hair along the back of your head, you twist to meet his silvery gaze. His eyes are heavy lidded, gaze raw with open fondness.

"I fell asleep.." Right in his lap it seems, your nose nuzzled into the crease on his thigh. You spy the book you'd been reading, carefully closed with a bright red book mark poking out from the slightly yellowed pages. It rests on the small coffee table not far from the couch. You don't even remember where you'd left off.

"No shit," Levi huffs softly, petting along the top of your head. "You've been snoring in my lap for an hour."

"I don't snore.." you insist half-heartedly.

"You do," Levi smirks down at you, his thumb sliding along your cheek in a quick swipe. "Sounds like a fucking barn animal. Your heads as heavy as one too."

"Lies," you laugh. Your whole body still feels heavy, limbs distant and hazy along your senses. You yawn, chin pressing into the firm muscle of his thigh. "I'm sorry I feel asleep."

The two of you have been taking turns reading though an old book. A romance, soft and sweet. A surprising choice for such a stern man, though he'd made the excuse that he was inexperienced with reading more flowery vocabulary.

Levi shrugs, "You were exhausted. We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow."

Yawning again, you nuzzle your cheek back into his thigh. You're so warm, resting heavily on his lap. Eyes still heavy, the fingers softly petting into your hair threaten to make you drift off again. Your mind already feels hazy.

"Go back to sleep," Levi hums. His gaze seems dark, the fondness in his eyes shadowed by exhaustion. You can see the telling tightness in the corners of his eyes. The slight wrinkle of his brow as he smiles softly down at you. He's tired too.

You're so comfy and warm. Your limbs feels so heavy you don't know if you could move if you wanted to. You don't want to get up but... "Do you want to go to bed?"

"Mhmm," he hums, fingers sliding across your forehead. They smooth though your loose bangs, softly dragging along your forehead to tuck the strands behind your ear. The very tip of your ear buzzes warm even after his fingertips leave. "Not tonight."

He doesn't want to move either. The thought fills your chest with a surge of warmth. "Thought my head was too heavy?"

"Shush," he replies with a small huff, eyes warm.

Eyes threatening to flutter closed, you nuzzle your cheek into his thigh. He smells nice too. He always does. Rich and clean, masculine without the salty tang of sweat. Like soap, standard issue sandalwood, and something rich and uniquely Levi. With a large inhale, you let the smell bathe your already heavy senses.

Eyes barely open, just a tired sliver, you meet his gaze again. With a wide yawn, you eye his slackened posture. The usual ramrod stiffness of his spine has given way to a light slouch, a rare sight. Levi yawns right back in response. "Are you gunna sleep too?"

"If the snoring animal doesn't keep me up," he responds. Your lips twist somewhere between a pout and a frown and Levi smirks down at you again. Fingertips massaging soothing circles into your scalp, his voice is assuredly soft, "I'll try."

"Promise?" You worry about his sleeping habits. He's been doing better lately, especially since you gotten together, but it's obvious he struggles. You aren't exactly sure how much he sleeps, how often he fakes it for your comfort. Maybe this position will work better, perhaps the familiarity of sitting up will help him.

Having your head in his lap, his fingers thoughtlessly playing with your hair, seems to have relaxed him at least.

Levi only hums in response. "Close your eyes." The words are firm yet featherlight, the fingers winding along your scalp applying slightly more pressure. They urge you to twist your head away, your gaze falling from his heavy lidded dark silver, nose pressing into the crease of his thighs again.

Eyes falling closed, bathed in his rich, comforting scent, heavy and encompassed in warmth, Levi pets long smooth lines along the top of your head. Soft, he urges, "Just sleep for me, Love. I'll try. I promise."

#soft and sweet #myaotdrabbles #levi/reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman #i wrote this is like an hour lmao #attack on titan #i just want to sleep in his lap

1K notes · View notes

calicobigamy · 7 months

Text

I can't be only one, right...?

I wanted to finish the game and then write this post but I gave up. I put in 100 plus hours and just could not go on once I got into act three. Maybe no one will hear my pitiful cry from the void, but I must scream for the sake of my sanity.

I was completely and utterly disappointed by Baldur's Gate 3.

It had huge maps like an open world game yet I had no desire to explore the settings despite their beauty. It had hours of dialogue as an RPG would and yet I found myself skipping characters' responses. The game mechanic structure was inspired by DnD, a story-telling game dictated by some rules, lucky rolls and the extent of players' imagination, yet I was strong-armed into fighting impossibly stacked battles. A story-telling game dependent on the players’ attachment to their and their teammates' characters and yet this game lacked any kind of narrative consistency or depth of feeling.

Larian wanted to make an open world RPG, based off of DND mechanics and somehow did the worst version of all three. The studio touts that Baldur’s Gate 3 has 17,000 possible endings and 2 million words, but to what end? What did this game have to say about what happens when people rise to the challenge and become heroes despite their circumstances or fall into the dark and become the monsters they were supposed to fight? What did it suggest might happen when fate deals you a bad hand but in doing so also helps you find true friends or love with the other? Ultimately, nothing.

BG3 is so large that it ends up being incoherent. No writing or game structure decisions were made to keep the narrative tight and on theme. It urges players to choose a moral alignment, but most decisions, good or bad, seem to end up having little effect in the end. To play the game at all you have to resort to save scumming and that in turn deflates the possible impact of so many plot points of the narrative overall.

Forcing players to save scum in order to progress through the game is terrible design in general. Statistically speaking the bosses make impossible critical hits again and again. I was playing in the game’s “casual mode” and found myself struggling to get through confrontations with bosses that were at a lower level than my own. If you are reading and thinking oh well you are probably not using tactics or spells well, etc., let’s do a little experiment…

Take your d20 (https://rolladie.net/roll-a-d20-die if you don’t have one in person). In the third act of BG3 I had an AC of 13 as a sorcerer with 100 plus HP. Roll your d20 ten times or more. How many times out of ten would your character have gotten to hit mine successfully? Unless an enemy is extremely lucky it should be unlikely that an enemy could hit my character every turn they get. And even if they do they would have to roll for damage which is only a single d6, d8, d10 or d12 plus a modifier at lower levels depending on your class. Again an enemy would have to have an extremely lucky roll to hit me every turn AND deal significant damage. During an in person DnD session that is just a bad night for my character. In a video game on casual mode that is significantly suspicious.

So what you might say. You've made and enjoyed the fanart, memes and etc. You got your $61 worth of playtime. So many other people were fine with the game, what is your problem?

I love video games. They blend so many artforms and tell stories in ways never done before. It is a medium unique to our current century and when historians look back they will view video games as an insight to our culture.

It frustrates me to no end that Baldur’s Gate 3 is considered the next gold standard. Too many games have done open world and RPGs in a fantasy setting far better for Larian (Swen Vincke) to have made the design and writing choices they did with BG3. There are so many podcasts and shows that have written better stories through the DnD format. I am embarrassed for the medium as an artist and frustrated as a player. Players and the industry deserve better than to have artists, actors, engineers etc. burn themselves out creating maximalist behemoths like this game. A game that is beautiful but basically unplayable, narratively, nihilistic and incoherent.

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 critical #long reads #long post

161 notes · View notes

gabigabigabby · 6 months

Text

burning wheel | m. ødegaard

martin ødegaard x haaland!reader

ft. erling haaland

synopsis: martin invites you and erling to arsenal's brand new training compound

a/n: this is a weird ass dream. but martin and erling were in it so it's not so bad

warnings/content: erling probably receiving second-degree burns idk, cocky!martin bc i love writing him, and cocky!erling too ig, dialogue in norwegian, not proofread, lmk if i missed out anything! 🫶🏽

—

the initial offer was to have you and erling walk around the arsenal's brand new training facility. martin did mention that this time, the facility is not like any other facility you have visited. he was definitely talking about the etihad campus, which you spend most of your time in because of erling.

there is a goddamn go-karting track here! martin's text to you read.

this child, you thought to yourself the minute you read his text. martin had asked you to invite erling as well, so you texted him your plans for the afternoon. erling replied with a nonchalant i'm down before you send him the address of the brand new arsenal training facility.

upon arrival, martin had excitedly began waiting for you at the front doors. you come driving in first, erling pulling into the wide — and empty — parking lot minutes after.

"tell me about this karting track you have." erling's voices booms through your eardrums, martin glaring at his adamant nature.

"it's down this way," martin begins leading you and your brother down a ramp before turning a left corner. "this has got to be the biggest karting track i've driven at."

to you, it seemed like a standard sized karting track, almost as big as the paul ricard circuit, located just outside of monaco — but you kept quiet. "choose your karts, guys, let's go on a drive before dinner." martin decides as he grabs a helmet before hopping in a red kart.

"which color kart you want?" erling asks, grabbing a helmet for you, then himself. you point at and walk towards the orange one as he settles himself in a blue one. before you could even warm up the brakes and engine of your kart, martin, followed by erling, had already zoomed forward and proceeding into the circuit.

you'd learned to always warm your brakes and the engine before driving — too much formula 1, you think to yourself. once you assume the engine right under your seat had warmed, you push the clutch as the kart begins to accelerate slowly. as you do so, you test the brakes. once the brakes were warmed up to your liking, you proceed into the circuit, hoping the two other norwegians haven't driven far.

you drive the course, secretly wishing it was bigger than you'd expected. not that it wasn't a difficult course — the obstacles were so-so — but it could've been better. arsenal have so much money and can only come up with this? you'd thought. you continue driving, slowly picking up the pace bit by bit, before you finally are on erling's tail.

"took you long enough, lillesøster!" erling cries ahead of you. [baby sister]

"irriterende." you glare, pushing on the clutch harder than before, which allowed you to drop erling's jaw as he eats your dust this time. this time, you are right on martin's tail, and lucky for you, martin has no idea you are now right behind him. [annoying]

soon enough, you'd gained enough momentum to be wheel-to-wheel with martin's kart. your sudden ascent to be by his side took him by surprise which made him swerve left and right. lucky for you, you had managed to drive ahead before he did so. from all the formula 1 you've watched, going wheel-to-wheel isn't going to be good for either you or martin.

unbeknownst to you, erling had found a shortcut that will put him right in front of you and martin. your jaw was on the floor when you saw him make the turn on the outside, taking his place before you. erling had begun to feel sorry for you, so he didn't bother to cross the line. though martin had passed the checkered flag, he still sped down the straight, when you and erling — who maintained his pace ahead of you because like it or not, he wasn't going to win this war — had already started to press on the brake.

erling still finished before you, as you notice his kart start to catch fire from the drag. you jump off your kart, running over to your brother and pulling him away from the remains of the kart.

"er du ok, bror?" your worried tone smoothly slides into his ears, his eyes finding yours. [are you okay, brother?]

"ja, helt fint, takk," erling brushes off his shoulders of the track debris. "hvor er den lille gutteleken din?" [yeah, just fine, thanks. where's your tiny boy toy?]

from your peripheral vision, you see a kart slowly drive backward as if it was in the process of parking, coming closer to you and erling. you head gestures towards the kart, answering erling's question.

"there's a podium there," martin begins as you approach him. "you know, if you want to live your kimi räikkönen dream."

"ayrton senna, thank you very much." you correct him.

"sounds about right, since he rarely finished first." martin teases, knowing you'd get defensive about it so he runs up the podium steps before you could react.

you step on the number three podium, erling taking p2 and martin taking p1. somehow, erling managed to get his kart on the podium next to him. you shrug, realising your brother is a literal viking, and if he could haul a grown bernardo with just one arm as easily as holding a newborn, what is a kart to him?

martin began waving to an invisible crowd. "who do you think you are, mati, seriously?" you scoff.

"max verstappen, of course," martin replies matter-of-factly. "you are lando norris," his finger wags at erling on the second podium on his right, then you on his left. "and you are sir lewis hamilton."

you were about to protest, but then you shrug it off. you'd die to be sir lewis hamilton, even just for a day. as you drift off into your world of imagination, you hear sparks begin to erupt on your right. erling's kart was slowly sparking. just as you thought you heard. a spark finally shoots into erling's waist, which shot him down.

huh. you never thought a little spark could bring down big mighty erling. you had to find martin's eyes, is he seeing the same thing? he is and he did.

unclasping your helmet, you turn to your brother with your hand reached out before him. his ego didn't let him ignore it this time as it usually does. erling shoves his hand out to you for a congratulatory shake. "good game, min bror." you grin, taking his hand. [my brother]

"du også, gutt," erling raises his head, glaring confidently at you through his eyelashes. "now let's go to dinner and forget that ever happened." [you too, kid]

#martin ødegaard #martin odegaard #martin ødegaard x reader #martin odegaard x reader #mø8 #mo8 #arsenal #arsenal fc #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #erling haaland #erling haaland x reader #man city #manchester city #mci #mcfc #football

79 notes · View notes

lillifaba · 3 months

Text

My thoughts on the Wicked movie teaser trailer... so far.

Before you pop off in my replies and reblogs yes I know, this is just a teaser trailer and not the official tralier. Regardless that doesn't give this movie a magical critique pass. Most of my critques on this teaser come from my own thoughts and some of points raised in this post. This is also just me rambling into the void. Don't like don't read lmao.

If you've been following me for a while, then you already know my opinion on the Wicked movie and casting. Surprise surprise, you guessed it... I am extremely underwhelmed and disappointed. For so many reasons.

I'll start off with some things I like.

Johnathan Bailey is hot asf as Fiyero. (even if he looks way older than Fiyero is canonically meant to be)

The set and props. I think some of them actually look pretty neat. I'm glad they didn't use a green screen for Shiz and put in the effort to build a university campus. The train from Shiz to Oz looks kinda dope. I was always wondering what it would look like and I'll probably use that as inspiration for my fics and art comms.

Jeff Goldblum as The Wizard. I won't lie, I haven't seen a lot of movies with Jeff in them so I was cautious about his casting. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see how much his look and his performance so far actually fits Oscar. Time will tell if he can hold up to those standards.

I'm happy a WOC is playing Elphaba. Everyone complains about Fiyero not being racially book accurate but nobody talks enough about Elphaba being discriminated against as an amalgamation for rac!sm. More women of color should play her on stage.

THE NAILSSSS. Come on people this is the Wicked Witch of the West we're talking about she should be SERVING WITH THOSE CLAWS! Although personally I would've preferred them sharp but I'm over here with almond arylics what do I know lol.

I'm happy they casted a disabled actress to play Nessa. I always wondered why they never did that.

With that out of the way, let's get into a million reasons why I hated this trailer and why I'll most likely hate the movie anyways.

Arianna as Glinda. Look, I don't hate Ari. I like some of her songs and even bought some of her perfumes because I like smelling good. At worst I just don't care about her. However whenever I see Arianna as Glinda, I'm sorry I just don't see Glinda, I see ARIANNA GRANDE dressed in last minute cosplay for a Halloween party. I heard one line... ONE LINE from her and the delivery is NOTHING like Glinda's character or cadence, it's just Ari in drama class.

The wigs and costumes. What the hell was the makeup and hair crew thinking when they selected that wig for Arianna???? It's an ashy dull blonde that brings no color or life to the character. The #1 thing about Glinda is her vibrant blonde hair, it's even mentioned IN THE SONGS. MULTIPLE TIMES. This wig looks like a botched bleach job. Then, there's the costumes. Good lord what are those glasses on Elphaba's face??? I get they're trying to be all "whimsy" and "peculiar" in tone with WOZ, but they just look silly. Why not stick to the glasses in the musical? Why overdo it? I fear how the Emerald City sunglasses will look (if they even add those in) Also why are Glinda's clothes so dull? Where's the vibrance? Where's the pink frilly coquette contrast to Elphaba's dark coquette?

The camera work and Elphaba's entrance. This is Wicked the musical. I'm expecting a huge and grandiose presentation, especially when it comes to THE MAIN CHARACTER. Showing Elphaba from the back of her head in slow motion while she's walking to the entrance is just... boring and an overused cliche. Not to mention the underwhelming reactions from the extras. The cinematography is just meh. I'm expecting better for a fantasy film. It's been done before.

Cynthia as Elphaba. Listen, Cynthia is a great singer and talented actress. I have absolutely nothing against her. With that being said I'm going to be brutally honest: much like Arianna, she is not Elphaba... at least not entirely. Like Johnathan, Cynthia is way older than Elphaba is meant to be canonically and the editing team clearly used the de-aging filter on her to the point where it looks unnatural. If this movie had been made at least five years ago or earlier Cynthia would've fit perfectly.

Continuing my point with Cynthia: the singing. I'm sorry but what the hell was that riff with Defying Gravity??? I'm not entirely blaming Cynthia for this because this has become a massive problem with a lot of musical film adaptations which I like to call the popification of songs. It happens in nearly all the live-action Disney movies and I'm sick of it. What confuses me is STEPHEN FUCKING SCHWARTZ is involved in the musical production. He wrote the god damn songs, how the hell does he not direct Cynthia to sing the right note instead of letting her do whatever she wants??? I don't think he did that with Idina, which is why this riff is so iconic. Come on, if a tiktok meme trend can do that riff better and more accurately than an actual singer can, that's just embarrassing. I'm not good at explaining myself in terms of singing, so I'm hoping a youtuber I occassionally watch does a reaction video to the trailer and does a better job at explaining than I can.

The acting. Like I said with Arianna, the delivery is so bland and dry. I'm trying not to judge all of the acting on a teaser trailer but if this is how the leads are going to act throughout the whole movie then I'm disappointed.

Too much CGI in some parts. I get it. This is a fantasy movie there's bound to be certain effects you can't do practically. But that's no excuse when this is a $145 million dollar movie. The flying monkeys are so painfully obvious CGI. This was a wasted chance to get Doug Motherfucking Jones to play Chistery in prosthetics. So much of this movie ends up looking like those garbage Oz spinoffs. (If you know you know) The CGI is just bad. The bubble and Emerald City buildings look so cheap.

WHY IS THIS MOVIE SO DARK? This is suppossed to be OZ! Why do I have to turn up my brightness to look into the shadow realm???

Now onto some things I'm confused about.

Michelle Yeoh as Madame Morrible. I'm praying to god she'll blow us away because she's such a good actress and is serving c*nt in her costumes. I haven't heard her sing (I'm dumb but unless the opera song she sang in EEAAO was her then WOW!)

The silver slippers. I KNOW! I KNOW! The ruby slippers are copyrighted and can't be thrown in all nilly willy wherever you please. But keep in mind this is a 145 MILLION DOLLAR MOVIE ALL FOR PART ONE. Do not tell me they couldn't shill a few extra bucks on signing a few contracts. AND YES I KNOW. The musical uses the silver slippers in the first act in ode to the L. Frank Baum books which I love, but don't forget, they turn red when Elphaba enchants them to give Nessa the ability to walk. Dorothy shows up after Nessa is killed and has her shoes stolen. Why aren't they red now? Not to mention most of the audience might not know the original slippers in the books were silver. This would've been a great chance to combine two different canons.

WHO IS PLAYING DR. DILLAMOND???? ifitisjamescordenandyouusecrappycgiiwillgotoyourhousejohnchuand-

Finally, why did John Chu absolutely insist on this being a two parter movie with a year long intermission? Is this shit show really that fantastical that it can be akin to Kill Bill part 1 and 2?

That's pretty much it for now but expect an update to this post with a reblog with updated thoughts when an official trailer drops. My mind probably won't change though. I'm totalllllyyy not considering pulling an Eddy Burback sneaking into Morbius for a week when this movie comes out lol.

Universal Studios and AMC theaters that was a joke please for the love of god do not send Nicole Kidman after me.

#anyways can't wait for the reactionary misogynist reactionary videos pumped out like garbage by neckbeards talking about “woke culture”#I'm already seeing it in the comment section #I'm going to go stick to better fics that get Wicked right #wicked movie

47 notes · View notes

softxsuki · 7 months

Note

Heyy, I have an urgent request. So I have an eating disorder (restrictive type anorexia) and it was caused because of my mom and how obsessed she was with my weigh and what I ate. I’m getting help but I’m relapsing so can I request Dabi x fem teen! Reader platonic who is struggling with this? Ty in advance! Have a nice day!

Dabi With Anorexic Reader (Platonic)

please don't read if you struggle with and E.D and reading about it will do you more harm than good. thx

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of anorexia, food, being thin, unrealistic weight goals, unhealthy relationship with food, some aggression from Dabi, toxic parents, mental health, trauma

Genre: Comfort??

Post-Type: Headcanons

Word Count: 630

Summary: In which Dabi finds out you've been starving yourself and tries to help you out in his own way

[A/N: Helloooooo. This was a tricky one because I can't imagine Dabi being soft and truly very helpful especially since he has his own issues, but I tried my best. Still not that great at writing for Dabi though, so if this triggers you or anything let me know and I'll delete it right away. Hopefully you enjoy it though :) ]

Dabi:

Dabi is blunt, he says things as he sees them and he doesn’t hold back

Having his own problems though, he’s definitely not the person you should go to for help about anything

But you were friends and after noticing how thin you were getting, he had some suspicions

“What’s up with you?” He’d gruffly ask, noticing how sickly you looked

You’d try to play it off, but he pushes you for an answer, he’ll make sure he gets one

You were like a little sister to him, someone he wanted to protect, yet you looked like you were going through a tough time

Knowing he’d never relent unless you give in and express what you’ve been going through, you tell him

“Just trying to lose some weight, no need to be worried”

Yeah, telling him not to worry isn’t gonna cut it. He’s flabbergasted that as thin as you are, you’re saying right to his face that you’re trying to lose weight

For the first time in his life, he tried holding himself back, not wanting to blow up at you because of his worries and possibly make you feel ever worse

But he can’t help it, what exactly is he supposed to do in this situation? Force you to eat? Wouldn’t that make things worse?

He was stunned in silence for a while, trying to collect himself before he said anything he might regret

But like I said, this man is blunt, and as someone who’s younger than him, and treated him like the older brother he always wanted to be, he can’t help but act accordingly

He’s furious as soon as you say you felt this way because of your mother. Why couldn’t parents mind their own business? He sure had his own struggles with parents, not that he wanted to get into that…

But he’s also upset at you for doing such a disservice to yourself, how could you let it get this far? How could HE have let you continue right under his nose without saying anything?

All he knows is he isn’t letting it continue

He’d do whatever he can to help you, which may seem aggressive at first as he refuses to allow you to leave his sight without eating something

He wanted you to know there was a difference between starving yourself and eating healthily

Being thin was one thing, but he wanted you to be healthy yet still being able to fill whatever body ideals you had for yourself in your mind

Perhaps those standards were warped, then he’d try and convince you to be healthier and to aim for a weight that was deemed healthy for someone your age and height

The last thing he’d want if for you too take it to far and to keep lowering your ideal weight since he knows that mental health issues like these get worse over time as you’d never be satisfied with any weight you reached

He hears out your concerns, knowing you’d fight him on a lot of things, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting you healthy. He didn’t care if it led you to hating him for the rest of your life, he was used to being alone and hated anyway

But for your sake, he takes things as slow as he can, slowly helping you improve and making you see that there are better ways to stay healthy and have a body that you’d be happy with without putting yourself at risk

So have a little patience with him, he means well. He’d never put this amount of effort in helping anyone, so that just goes to show how precious you are to him–his friend, someone who accepted him as he was, he’d make sure to protect you

REQUESTS ARE OPEN (i accept the ones that inspire me to write)

Posted: 10/1/2023

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #mha comfort #bnha comfort #dabi comfort #touya todoroki #touya x reader #mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #dabi headcanons

74 notes · View notes

moodymisty · 3 months

Note

Absolutely DELIGHTFUL Lorgar thoughts Misty!! Just to add on to what you’ve added on about me adding on to what you wrote (wow, that’s a long sentence):

“But when he doesn't, when he listens to you more and more, perhaps he starts even venting to you, walking through what he needs to do next-”

Is… Is Lorgar ever going to tell the reader about what happened during his childhood? Would he ever tell you about the tribe that first found him, and what Kor Phaeron ordered to be done to them? Or about how he grew up in the desert, and what Kor Phaeron made him go through?

Would he??

Would he tell you those things, just in passing conversation? maybe hesitate a little bit when pried for more details. Or if he talked about it, telling you “it was not as bad as you may think, beloved” when he sees the expression of horror on your face. He’s the son of the Emperor, he says. It was done for a reason, he assures you. And yet you don’t feel assured. You feel appalled. I’d even say you feel angry. Terribly, terribly angry. How dare Kor Phaeron even look his son in the eyes after what he did to him?! How dare he even call him his “son”?!!

You hold Lorgar close to you that night, your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders and his face pressed into your collarbone. You’re glad he trusts you enough to tell you this information. And while you stare into the darkness of the room, you contemplate on the universe you live in.

You’re going to visit Terra soon, you’re going to meet the rest of Lorgar’s family, you’re going to be a far bigger part of the Imperium than you had ever dreamed of.

There are things you don’t yet know about. Of how Lorgar is already planning the wedding, or how Kor Phaeron keeps a picture of you to throw knives at sometimes, or how in the darkest parts of the galaxy, beyond the planets and constellations, in the deepest reaches of space. There are gods that before only focused on Lorgar, that now turn their gaze upon you.

But that isn’t what’s happening right now. Right now your love is asleep in your arms, and every bad thing that will occur is a million lifetimes away. He’s happy, he’s content. And you’ll do everything in your power to keep it that way. Even though you’re just a mortal, even if it may kill you. You just love him far too much to let anything like that happen to him ever again.

(Did anyone else read Lorgar: Bearer Of The Word by Gav Thorpe and imagine beating Kor Phaeron to death with a steel chair WWE style? No?? Just me?? Oh well... *walks away sadly*)

I think Lorgar would tell them a very short and condensed version, and avoids quite a few of the more 'unsavory' parts. He excuses it as trying to spare someone far more starry eyed of horrors, but its also because he refuses to show weakness about it. It's what made him the man he is today, and it's far easier to frame it that way that admit that what Kor Phaeron did to him was pretty unarguably horrid even by the standards of the Primarchs. (Guilliman remarks about it briefly in one of the books)

Talking to him about it is going to be a fruitless effort because of his stalwart view of it, and the way he sees it as molding and creating a man worthy of his stature rather than abuse.

It's far more productive for you to be a comforting place for Lorgar to come to when he needs a soft hand, or an ear. Once that he begins to take solace in more and more as he realizes how it (you) make him feel. That's more than likely the moment he realizes how irrevocably in love with you he is, if he hasn't already.

Kor Phaeron is of course boiling somewhere in private because he planted so much in Lorgar with the intent to reap it and you've been slowly tearing it all down, and cementing yourself as not only his lover, but now his confidant. That was a previously a position held only to Kor Phaeron, and he'd considering doing something personally about this matter if you weren't halfway to Terra.

Lorgar is beaming with happiness and pride, you're in love and happy to see him happy, and Kor Phaeron is in the background creating a negative energy vortex so vast half the chapter has to grab onto something.

#Misty's book club #lorgar x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #anon you don't have a name but i know you sent that new spicy ask in my box i'll answer it soon because it's tasty

49 notes · View notes

not-poignant · 3 months

Note

Hi Pia

Hope you dont mind but UtB Temsen scares me. Like... there are things about him that just make me feel very unsafe lol.

I'm not sure whether you intended for him to have such a threatening undercurrent but if I existed in the Underline universe I'd stay far far away from him. It's strange because I don't get that same sense of foreboding from Gary or Augus and I'm wondering whether that because Gary has a pov and Augus is simply not present much. But idk.

I get a sense that there's an extreme darkness beneath peak alpha Temsen's character. Like, he apparently cares about omegas enough to go into a rage on their behalf and later work at Hillview but then does and says things that are like the exact opposite Like admitting that he would've raped Ef if Ef had been given to him instead of Gary and would've done it despite witnessing first hand through his profession the type of trauma that sexual abuse causes. And the fact that forced sex would've been the first thing on his mind instead of investigating further and finding the source of the pain? Yeah that's... kind of chilling actually.

So in his mind, rape isn't ok if it's committed by other alphas (like ones at different facilities) but it's ok if he commits it?

And then reading some of your responses about how Temsen is with his one night stands, or how he'd potentially be with Gwyn, and it just solidifies my belief that even though he can be nice sometimes, he is not a nice person.

If i was an omega sent to Hillview, I would be horrified to even be in the same room as him. His kindness and goodwill seem extremely conditional and feels like it could turn around any moment if someone isn't "respectful" enough. Like, he didn't like Ef talking back to him and I have a suspicion that his reaction to it would've been worse if Ef was his instead of Gary's. Temsen seems to treat patients best when they're polite, passive and obedient, which are usually trauma responses and he knows that, but (judging by his behaviour/responses) still prefers it?

I also think his cheerful bedside manner is a mask he puts on and it hides something very dark and very ugly that not even Gary and Augus possess.

As you can probably tell I have quite strong feelings about Temsen lol. Most of them not good.

Please don't take this the wrong way, these aren't judgements! I just want to express and share my feelings about him as a reader. And maybe get your thoughts as well? I would literally read an entire essay dedicated to his character to see if I could see him in a new light.

I think the fact that he's not a pov character doesn't help him much. But then you've written other non pov characters before and none of them have made me feel like this so maybe it's just a UtB Temsen thing.

If you have the time and energy to spare, I'd love and appreciate your thoughts on his character. I always love reading your responses.

Thank you

This ask is almost as long as my ask responses sdlakfjsda

And my response is VERY LONG so under a cut it goes:

Okay so, first things first, by our world standards, all of the alphas in Underline the Black are rapists. All of them. Every single one we've met so far. From the kind and caring Janusz who did not in any way obtain any kind of consent before raping Nate lovingly repeated times, to Anton who might get consent from Flitmouse this time but certainly hasn't in the past during heats, to Gary who has done god knows what to alphas before abandoning them, to Caleb who does not contain full and willing consent from the omegas he fucks and certainly puts the dubious in dubcon when he's with Faber.

So let's be blunt here, if we're going to be looking at these characters from like, our personal standards, they're all rapists. All of them. Some of them are nicer and friendlier than others, but this is a world where obtaining full and lucid consent from omegas in heat is literally impossible, and where rehabilitation facilities often make choices to put the physical health of an omega (i.e. the resolution of a heat) before the emotional or psychological health (i.e. letting the omega go through unfulfilled agony just to wait until they can get true consent).

When we look at almost all omegaverse stories through this lens, almost every single character becomes a rapist and/or capable of rape. It's one of the reasons so many of us like it so much, it's so good for rape fantasy + romance, and it fulfills a lot of the roles that oldschool Mills & Boon and Bodice Ripper romance used to fulfill. A lot of 'I hate it until I love it, and now I also love you.'

One of the things omegaverse does within the universe is create a culture where everyone just accepts this as normal, because heats exist and they must be fulfilled, because they can be fatal - and certainly agonising - if they're not. This is a world that has, by and large, decided that people dying of pain has more value than obtaining real and informed consent. Believe it or not, our world is also like this sometimes. Especially around certain medical emergencies.

In the specific context you're mentioning re: Temsen admitting he would have raped Efnisien, he's making it very clear that he would have done it in response to Efnisien's physical agony due to being in heat, and he says this in a regretful way, in the tone of someone who knows he would have been wrong to do that, after literally saving Efnisien's life during surgery, and I feel like you're really cherry picking Temsen's words here to justify how you feel about him, which is awesome - you can do that!

But if you bring it to me, I'm going to show the whole sequence of dialogue to demonstrate that he had a lot of humanity around this sentiment, instead of the absence of sentiment and humanity:

'I am sorry,' Temsen said with his formal forthright way of speaking. Gary hadn't expected the apology at all. 'I've had to put Efnisien first as my patient quite a few times over the last few days, but it leaves you neglected, and I don't mean the PACS, Gary. I...am doing a terrible job of being sympathetic to your circumstances. It would be easier, I think, if your actions didn't have a direct impact on Efnisien’s welfare. It’s hard to think when he’s in agony.' 'I know.' 'I keep thinking about the pain he's grown accustomed to. I'm... And on another matter, I think I'm in the strange position of realising an alpha who's that vulnerable has a kind of appeal, if I'm being honest. I think I might see you as a rival.' Gary lifted his eyebrows to indicate what he thought of that, and Temsen laughed. 'It's not a serious rivalry,' Temsen said. Gary didn’t think it was, or he’d be unable to be relaxed about it. 'I don't want him, he's too much work. But I'm pleased to have identified why I've been in such a strange state. I think it started off as protectiveness and became that thread of: 'Here's an alpha not doing a good enough job with him, I know I'd do better.' Realistically, I'm not sure I would. I'm not as kind as you are, for a start.' 'Kind?' 'I would have fucked him as soon as I knew he was in heat,' Temsen said, smiling slowly. 'Which would have been a nightmare, given the surgery he needed for a start. You're far kinder than I am, Gary, for all that you're a small-minded, petty tyrant, when it comes to your grief.'

So the specific piece of dialogue you're referring to, is Temsen referring to a hypothetical situation where he suspects he would have done the wrong thing, and it would have been literally 'a nightmare' (his words) and he discloses that he knows he wouldn't be as good a match to Efnisien as Gary is, and also apologises for putting Gary second because he's had to put Efnisien first due to the agony he's been in.

That's the sequence in which he discloses that he'd hypothetically have raped Efnisien.

Which, incidentally, is similar circumstances in which characters like Nate and other omegas on-site do get raped by their alphas. Nate didn't consent, couldn't consent, and would have withdrawn consent multiple times. Is Janusz regretting that? He absolutely is. Will he stop? No! That's...the trope, and it's what I love writing, and it's why Underline the Blue and Underline the Black have a black box Rape/Noncon warning - not because of the histories of these characters, but because of their current relationship.

"And the fact that forced sex would've been the first thing on his mind instead of investigating further and finding the source of the pain?"

Yeah, that's literally the job! You'll note that Nate doesn't get a medical/surgical examination by anyone before his pain / heat is solved by sex with Janusz (if you haven't read Underline the Blue yet, that's what happens). That's extremely standard. For about 99.9999% of omegas and anyone going into heat, the source of the pain is the heat. This is also happening in Underline the Gold but those chapters aren't on AO3 yet.

It would be really unusual if he did assume the pain was caused by something other than the heat. And the only reason he did consider it is that he knows Efnisien's prior medical history.

Hope you dont mind but UtB Temsen scares me.

I don't mind! It's literally canon that he scares and intimidates many of the characters, including Flitmouse, Efnisien (at times), Nate, Janusz (to a point), and Anton (at times). The threatening undercurrent is there because many characters canonically say they find him intimidating or frightening, because they have felt nauseous around him, and because of explicit canon details about things he's done in the past, as well as being extremely pragmatic about admitting to wanting to harm or kill people.

So in his mind, rape isn't ok if it's committed by other alphas (like ones at different facilities) but it's ok if he commits it?

In context of what I said above re: all alphas being rapists in this story, it's more like:

Raping maliciously to intentionally cause harm because you enjoy it isn't permissible. Raping to save someone from physiological agony, when there's no other safe way to deal with it, is. That's...why Hillview exists. They don't see it that way, because their culture is different to ours: Heats exist, and alphas exist. That radically changes the entirety of their culture.

And that's why the story is tagged as a Dystopian Universe story. Because that's dark as fuck.

Yes! He says this himself! :D He knows this better than anyone and that's why among other reasons, he's not an alpha companion and he's not interested in being one.

He knows his flaws, he's the one who told you his flaws, he says canonically and more than once that he doesn't see himself as especially kind or nice, he even says it in the sequence above where he admits that he would have assaulted Efnisien. Your belief is his belief, and it's a belief he shared with the readers and has shared with other characters. This isn't something Temsen hides from, and it's also not something he indulges, that's why he's not an alpha companion.

If i was an omega sent to Hillview, I would be horrified to even be in the same room as him.

Many of them are. If you haven't read them yet, you might want to look at Underline the Gold in particular, and sections of Underline the Blue, where the omegas freely admit they find Temsen at best intimidating and overwhelming. Flitmouse comes straight out and accuses Temsen of threatening him, and Temsen baldly admits that he is. And then he keeps doing it.

That doesn't mean they still don't prefer him over the other doctors they've seen though - *points forever at the Dystopian Universe* tag. Nowhere in this story are we saying he's a good consent-focused story, but we are saying this is a fucked up world where he might be the best an omega ever gets in their life.

His kindness and goodwill seem extremely conditional and feels like it could turn around any moment if someone isn't "respectful" enough. Like, he didn't like Ef talking back to him and I have a suspicion that his reaction to it would've been worse if Ef was his instead of Gary's.

Absolutely, again, that's why Temsen isn't an alpha companion.

But also, he's a peak alpha. Gary is quite unusual in enjoying the way Efnisien talks back to him, it's so unusual for peak alphas that he basically has a kink for it at this point and it's a fetish rather than like...a realistic representation of peak alphas.

Temsen seems to treat patients best when they're polite, passive and obedient, which are usually trauma responses and he knows that, but (judging by his behaviour/responses) still prefers it?

Highly recommend you read Underline the Blue and Underline the Gold, where he actively praises omegas for standing up to him!

In this sequence, Flitmouse is defending his right to death by starvation (cw anorexia and other disordered eating) and fires up:

'I've been- But I've been eating here!' said Flitmouse. Temsen's smile was sad. 'I always love when an omega can fire up a bit more around me. I appreciate you sharing this with me. It's safe to speak your mind around me. I just selfishly wish you weren't defending your right to starve to death so passionately. I'm glad you've been eating here. Keep doing it. Try to do it a little more. That's all I'm asking.

Please don't take this the wrong way, these aren't judgements!

I mean, they are judgements :D I just don't take it the wrong way because it's normal to have strong feelings about a complex and morally grey character, and Temsen is definitely that!

In addition, a lot of what you've written out is stuff that I have explicitly written out into the story, they're things Temsen has told you / other characters about himself. He is his own biggest warning, and he is very aware of his flaws and the reality of his nature, if he desperately wanted to rape omegas, don't you think he'd have chosen to be a companion by now? He certainly could have, very easily. None of this stuff is hidden or swept away, these are things Temsen puts front and centre, and then it's up to others how much they see that or don't see it. But Temsen also puts other aspects of himself front and centre which you (and others) choose to ignore or think are false, which I think is created by the tempting trap that if someone has very awful qualities, all their good qualities must be a lie or a mask.

And that's not reflective of how complex people (and characters) really are. But it's a lot easier to deal with a character when we can sweep them into the 'I just don't like them' box or the 'I just like them and I don't see the bad stuff' box.

Temsen's good qualities are very real. He's dedicated his entire life to omega QOL improvements, and has created those tangible improvements in a dystopian universe. If he was a 'normal' peak alpha, he would have euthanased Efnisien the first day he arrived on site - maybe he would have raped him first. This is very very much a dystopian universe. I'm not going to try to convince you that he's 'good' because that's very simplistic, he does very good, and even heroic things, and he does very bad, and sometimes really awful things. These are just facts about him. And then it's up to other people to decide where their line is re: liking him or not.

In fact of all the characters we've met, Janusz has raped someone on the page and Gary has (re: Efnisien), we know Anton has historically for work, and Augus.

The only significant alpha who hasn't ever done this to omegas is actually Temsen.

The most important thing to me personally is that all Temsen has told you so far is speculative. He speculates that he would have raped Efnisien, but he actually saves his life. He speculates that he's not very kind, and then puts Efnisien first and sacrifices sleep for him to find articles that will make him more comfortable. (I would tender here that you're believing his hypotheticals over his repeated actions) He doesn't tolerate disrespect from an alpha, because that's how alpha rapists are created (he is stern with Efnisien because he's an alpha, because alphas who are allowed to disrespect others become like Gwyn or Christian or Vadim), but he accepts it often from omegas, who are vulnerable and need to learn how to speak up.

That's what's important to me! But I also think he's a dick, lol, and I like that about him. I don't need a character to be good or pure to love the shit out of them, and that's how I end up writing a world where almost every alpha is a rapist to some degree, and most folks still end up giving them a pass anyway, because the stories are fun and entertaining, and these people and world's aren't real.

TL;DR: Temsen is a complex character capable of healing, heroic, cruel and controlling actions, and I think you're cherry picking certain parts of his dialogue / actions to justify how you feel about him while missing others, which is absolutely your prerogative as a reader! But honestly, if you just don't like a character, or find them too dark, you don't need a reason for it - you can just not like 'em - feelings are the most irrational things we have, after all, and often resist logical justification. :D I'm not really trying to change your mind here tbh, feelings are feelings, but I am the kind of person who will point out the inconsistencies in a discussion, especially when invited to sdlkfjsa

#asks and answers #underline the black #underline the rainbow #ohlo ohlo temsen #but yeah the first thing we have to get out of the way is every alpha in this story is a rapist #by our standards #but their in-world standards it's different #like literally different #they don't see it that way - and they would struggle to see it that way #temsen is ironically one of the few who *does* see it that way #pia on characters #pia on characterisation #temsen is one of my favourite characters in this story because he is very polarising #and because i think he exists as a way of highlighting #how manipulative and strategic it was #to make a peak alpha the doctor of a rehabilitation facility #and let's never forget that this was ultimately *Gary's* decision #which he still stands by

22 notes · View notes

fantasyinallforms · 7 months

Text

Despite my warnings, I've gotten some Anon hate for this series. I get that some are spicier than others, and I'm writing on a very wide range of kinks. Super saucy isn't everyone's thing, and I get that. That's why I've written a few more tender ones specifically for those who prefer that. The label is right on the can, so to speak. You're under no obligation to read it but don't be mad at me for writing it. Not really inspiring me to write more, but they also want that, so I'll keep going anyway. I do this for one month out of the 12 months, so kindly get out of my DM's.

Thank you to @tolkienpinupcalendar for hosting this event! Thank you to those who have said a kind word, and thank you to my fellows on the NSFT Discord. Your encouragement and chats have meant the world to me.

without further adieu

~~~~

Day 13- Bagginshield - Dom/Sub with light to medium degradation (Bilbo Dom)

Thorin walked through the door of his royal apartment, exhausted. Not physically but mentally. Being king meant making choices all day. It meant a constant barrage of information all directed at him. He was constantly expected to set an example and a standard for his people. Most of the time, he loved it and couldn't imagine doing anything else. Other times he wanted to run far away from responsibility and choice. Like he did today.

He removed his boots and walked into the living room to find Bilbo at his writing desk, scribbling letters for trade orders and ambassadorial summons. He looked up and smiled as Thorin walked in but knit his eyebrows when he saw Thorin's haggard disposition.

"You held open court today, didn't you?" Bilbo asked. Thorin nodded yes. "I'll be sitting in my armchair when you're appropriately dressed." Bilbo put his pen back in the inkwell and left the room. A swooping sensation filled his stomach. He had been desperately hoping for that response. Not long after his coronation, the weight of rulership settled on him. It made him tired, irritable, and not the best company. He hadn't seen how much it hurt Bilbo until it became a shouting match. That fight ended in Thorin finally voicing all his burdens, and of course, his clever hobbit had a solution. He had been skeptical initially, but it took no time for him to fall in love with the dynamic they had built. One where he was not in charge and made no decisions.

Thorin pulled the black and white dress Bilbo commissioned for him out of his wardrobe. It was made to resemble a maid outfit that was common in the shire, though it was likely much shorter than the real thing. He put it on and smoothed it out before walking into the sitting room. Bilbo was where he said he'd be, patiently waiting with his legs crossed and his fingers clasped together over his knee.

"Go look at yourself in the mirror and tell me if what you’re wearing counts as appropriate attire," Bilbo stated. He turned to the mirror and realized his mistake.

"I forgot my headband," Thorin replied.

"Let's not also forget our manners in your haste. You forgot your headband, what?"

"I forgot my headband, Master Baggins." Thorin recited.

"Very good. Go get it, and also bring me the black paper-wrapped package in the top drawer of my desk." Thorin returned to the bedroom and pinned his hair up in a bun so that the headpiece would fit appropriately. He smiled at himself in the mirror. For the next several hours, Thorin was not a king. He did not have responsibilities or a kingdom. He would not be catered to or held in regard. He was something for Bilbo to play with or belittle as he saw fit. The package he was told to grab was heavier than he expected. It made him curious and excited.

"Good, we can start. Now, I am concerned with that little blunder that you've forgotten the rules, so I'm going to remind you of them. So long as you are wearing those clothes, you don't get to make choices. You do what I ask when I ask. Fail, and there will be punishment. Nod if you agree." When he nodded, Bilbo got up and walked over to him to take the package." If you need to stop, what is the only word I'll accept?" Bilbo asked

"Smaug, Master Baggins," Thorin replied. Bilbo grinned.

"Good boy. Now that I'm confident you remember how this works, I have a present for you. I had it specially made." Bilbo unwrapped the paper to reveal a plug made of silver with a jeweled acorn engraved at its base. Thorin's eyes went wide as he gulped and shuddered in anticipation. It was a good size, bigger than any of the other ones Bilbo had used on him. "It looks like I'll be spending most of our time together helping you remember your manners. What do we say when someone gives us a gift?"

"Thank you, Master Baggins. It's very generous. I'd be happy to accept such a gift from you."

"I'm glad to hear it. Let's not waste any time then. Grab the oil and get on your hands and knees in front of me. I want to watch you open yourself up. Do not touch your cock." Bilbo sat back on his armchair and watched as Thorin worked his fingers into himself one at a time. He loved having Bilbo’s eyes on him, judging him worthy of his time. He looked over at him every time he added a new finger to watch the satisfying smile play out on his lips. When he could fit three comfortably, Bilbo commanded him to stop. “Very good. Now, head down, arch your back, and spread your legs.” Thorin hesitated. In all the times they had played together, this was not a position Bilbo usually put him in. He was typically expected to insert his own toys. His hesitancy earned him Bilbo’s foot on his neck. Bilbo applied pressure until his cheek was pressed into the floor. “I don’t like being ignored or disobeyed, Thorin.” When Bilbo took the pressure off, Thorin didn’t move. He adjusted his hips and sloped his back as he was told.

“I’m sorry, Master Baggins, I forgot myself.” Thorin apologized. Bilbo tutted at him.

“I’m inclined to forgive you only because you look quite pathetic like this. We’ve barely begun, and you’re already leaking onto the floor.” Bilbo trailed his hand over his back and down his thighs, paying close mind to never touch his cock or his stretched hole. Every small touch was like an electric shock. It left him wanting more and made him aware of how empty his body felt. He groaned and tried to think about the cool stone under his face. Soon, he felt cool metal tease at his entrance. “Remind me how much you want my present,” Bilbo commanded.

“Please Bil-Master Baggins. I want to accept your gift! I want whatever you’re willing to give me!” He spread his legs a little wider and thrust his ass as far up as possible. Bilbo snapped his garters against his thighs with a hint of satisfaction.

“Take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Do not stop breathing.” The moment after the command was given, Thorin felt the cold metal breach him. He grit his teeth but kept breathing as Bilbo pushed it further and further. It was painful, and the pressure pushed him open further than he had ever been before, but the stretch was intoxicating. After what seemed like forever, he felt the base settle against his ass and whimpered at the realization that this was constructed to settle just under the spot inside him that made him see stars. His body adjusted to the new intrusion just before Bilbo slapped it and forced another broken whimper from him. “A perfect fit. I might even make it part of the uniform. Bilbo tugged on it, testing the seal and laughing as Thorin buckled. “Well, now that you have my present, you can make me tea. Stand up.” Thorin tried to do what he was told and failed the first time as the plug shifted and made him tremble. His cock ached to be touched, and his body was on fire. He felt as alive as he did in battle.

He was finally able to fully comply and hung the kettle on the fire. He could feel every inch of what was still inside him. He wanted to squirm and bounce until it brought him to completion, but he obeyed his command. The tea was made, and he prepared it exactly how Bilbo taught him in his first session. Two cream and two sugar. He brought it over to him, and Bilbo took it with a smile.

“Well done. Kneel beside me and hold out your hands. Do not move, and do not spill a drop of my tea." Bilbo sat the saucer and cup on his open hands and started reading. Periodically removing the cup to take a sip. When he was finished, he demanded another one and remanded Thorin to the same position. Only this time, he did not drink it. He read, and Thorin continued to be his tea table until the tea itself went cold. After another ten minutes and long after his hands and legs had gone numb, he felt Bilbo run his hands along his leg and over his thighs. He lifted the front of his outfit and let out a disappointed sigh. "Well, isn't that a shame? Even with my present inside you, your cock has gone soft. It looks quite sad, just bobbing between your thighs like that. Don't you think you should apologize to me for such a pitiful display?" Bilbo dropped the hem of the dress and stared expectedly.

"I'm sorry, Master Baggins."

"Sorry for what, Thorin, be specific." Thorin stared at the floor. Bilbo was in a mood to humiliate him, likely blowing off his own steam from spending a day being diplomatic to those who barely deserved it. Thorin tried not to smile at the thought that his humiliation could help his husband in such a way.

"I'm sorry that my cock is pathetic enough that it can't stay hard. I'm sorry that you are forced to look at it, and I hope that you can forgive me for making you have to remind me of my manners." He felt his cock twitch, but with just how numb his legs were, it remained soft. Bilbo took the cold tea from him and used his foot to push Thorin over onto his side.

"I accept your apology, and I won't even punish you. I'll give you another chance to redeem yourself. Go make me a fresh cup of tea, and if your legs are too numb to walk, you can crawl to the kitchen." His legs were too numb. He crawled across the floor, the plug shifting within him with every movement of his hips. By the time he got to the kitchen, his legs prickled, and his cock was half-hard again. He panted, aching with the burning need to touch himself but craving the promise of Bilbo’s reward more. He managed to stand long enough to hang the kettle over the fire before collapsing. In the time it took for the water to boil, he regained sensation enough to walk and re-entered the room with a hot cup of tea.

"Hand me my tea and get on all fours in front of me facing the door. Do not slope your back," Bilbo demanded. When Thorin was in the correct position, Bilbo placed the cup just below his shoulder blades and walked around to face him. He grabbed his face and forced their eyes to meet.

"Now I think we can agree I've been very patient with you this evening. You're not an easy toy to train, but I will keep trying. What makes you worth it is how eager you are to please. That is a quality I approve of. I'll say this for the last time. Do not spill my tea, and if you can manage that, I'll use you as the little cum dump you’re training so hard to become." Bilbo watched the hopeful reaction play out on his face with a wicked grin.

"Thank you, Master Baggins. You're more generous with me than I deserve." Thorin couldn't keep the adoration out of his voice if he tried.

“Yes, I am,” Bilbo replied as he took his seat. The game he was about to have to play was apparent immediately. He felt Bilbo’s hand caress his rear, and then, with a bolt of beautiful agony, he felt the plug turn in him as Bilbo slowly took it out. He wanted to writhe and felt his shoulders shake, but the moment he heard the rattling of the teacup, he stopped and tried to steel his nerves. It left him panting and mumbling words of mercy. Bilbo showed him none, and he would get none unless he uttered their red word. He did not stop, and he did not slow down. When the plug was almost out of him, he pushed it back in with enough force to make Thorin scream, but he still did not move. He held fast as Bilbo assaulted his body with the toy until he was crying and begging for release. When he felt like he was about to collapse, Bilbo stopped picked up the tea cup and set it aside before uttering the first genuinely kind words of the session.

“Thorin, you did so well. Not a bit of my tea went to waste. I’m going to give you a special reward just because I know how difficult that was. Turn around and open your mouth.” When Thorin turned around, Bilbo had his cock in his hand. He caressed his face and hooked his thumb into his mouth. He smeared some of his precum on his lips before slapping his cock on his tongue. Bilbo fed his cock into his mouth until Thorin swallowed all of it and fucked the back of his throat hard and fast. Thorin was so relieved to finally be worthy of Bilbo’s affection that he came untouched onto the cold floor. While his body shuddered from the aftershock of his climax, Bilbo gripped his hair and, with a cry, spent down his throat.

Thorin didn't spill a drop.

~~~~~~~

Find the kinktober list here!

#bagginshield #bilbo x thorin #smut #dom/sub #kinktober 2023 #TPCkinktober

25 notes · View notes

eyedelater · 1 year

Text

this important scene between koito, tsurumi, and tsukishima at goryokaku (chapter 295) was greatly changed in golden kamuy volume 30. the volume version is above. i decided to translate and then analyze it.

EH scans translated the magazine version of the manga as it was being released, so they haven't done this version, to my knowledge. and VIZ hasn't gotten this far in their official translation yet. so neither of my main sources have done it! that's why i'm translating these pages. i don't know if anyone else has translated this. if someone has, then you can look at their translation AND mine and compare them if you want. (and you can send me a link to their version.)

i want to show you the magazine version for comparison. this is the translation by EH scans:

you'll notice that the page count increased by two for the volume version. you'll also notice that the first and last pages haven't changed at all; i only included them for context because that's the whole scene.

while reading the raw manga, i had intended to check on one of the lines in this scene to see what it said in japanese and compare the translation. the line in question was the one where tsurumi talks about entrusting things to splendid koito. but that line is completely obliterated in the volume version, and i can't find the raw magazine version of this particular chapter, so i'll forget about that forever i guess. it doesn't matter because it's not canon anymore.

now, because i love koito and tsukishima so much, i went to the trouble of typesetting these pages with my own translation. so i'll include them here for your reading pleasure, and THEN i'll go ahead with the inevitable overanalysis in terms of translation and plot significance.

(i typeset it clumsily and also committed the vile typesetting sin of not using an all-caps font. but paint 3d didn't have any all-caps fonts, okay?? i'm very lazy! i'm not gonna go download a font just for this. also i didn't really need to do the first and last pages here because nothing changed and EH scans translated it just fine, but for the sake of completionism, i did them anyway.)

so that's my translation, and you can just read that and walk away if you want. but i'll write a lot more anyway.

line by line translation notes

in order of speech bubble, by page. a slash / indicates a split in a compound speech bubble. a double slash // indicates two separate speech bubbles in one entry. transliterations are rough and not based on any real standard of romaji.

PAGE 1

raw: 月寒あんぱんのひとがついた甘い嘘… transliteration: tsukisappu anpan no hito ga tsuita amai uso… EH scans translation: The tsukisappu anpan person ended up telling sweet lies... my translation: The sweet lies that the Tsukisappu anpan person told... notes: it's a sentence fragment. it makes you think there's going to be a second part to the sentence, but there's not. because there's not, to avoid confusing the reader, EH scans turned it into a full sentence. that's fair. my translation is more literal, so i didn't turn it into a full sentence, but it doesn't sound as good... i guess i didn't need to retranslate this one if it doesn't sound any better... let's move along.

PAGE 2

raw: あなたは嘘をつきすぎて / 嘘で試した人間の「愛」しか本物と思えないのでは? transliteration: anata ha uso wo tsukisugite / uso de tameshita ningen no [ai] shika honmono to omoenai no de ha? my translation: Haven't you lied so much / that you can only believe someone's [love] is real after you've tested them with lies? notes: "love" here is "ai" 愛. it's the same love that tsurumi talks about with his judo teacher when he talks about inspiring love among his soldiers so they will actually kill instead of pretending to kill. it is not "koi" 恋 romantic love, but it is love in the broadest sense.

raw: 鯉登少尉! transliteration: koito shoui! my translation: Second Lieutenant Koito! notes: no translation notes, but tsukishima's face did get slightly altered, and the speech bubble has wavery edges now, and dramatic motion lines were added. it's an emotional exclamation!!!

PAGE 3

raw: 中央から見ればここにいる者たちは全員 / 政権転覆を図る反乱分子です transliteration: chuuou kara mireba koko ni iru monotachi ha zen'in / seiken tenpuku wo hakaru hanran bunshi desu my translation: From Central's point of view, all of the people here / are insurgents plotting to overthrow the government. notes: seiken "political administration," tenpuku "overturn/overthrow," hakaru "to plan, to plot, to strive for," hanran "insurrection, rebellion," bunshi "member(s), element(s)." this isn't the first time we've heard the phrase "hanran bunshi." in chapter 78 (volume 8), shortly after tsukishima kicks him and then yells at him for killing maeyama, ogata uses the phrase to describe tsurumi's men. i think a fair translation of "hanran bunshi" would be "rebel faction."

raw: 勝てば官軍負ければ賊軍 / この戦でなにも得られなければ transliteration: kateba kangun makereba zokugun / kono ikusa de nanimo erarenakereba my translation: If you win, you're in the right. If you lose, you're in the wrong. / If we gain nothing from this battle… notes: the first line must be an existing saying, because when i searched zokugun on jisho.org, it brought up that first sentence word for word as one of its example sentences. so i made that the translation, word for word... you know, cos it's an existing saying... plus it's nice and concise...

raw: 我々は軍の裏切り者として裁かれる transliteration: wareware ha gun no uragirimono toshite sabakareru my translation: …we will be judged as traitors to the military.

raw: 私たち親子がここまで来たのは / 自分たちの選択ですからどうなっても受け入れます transliteration: watashitachi oyako ga koko made kita no ha / jibuntachi no sentaku desukara dounattemo ukeiremasu EH scans translation: The fact that my father and I have come this far… / That was the choice we ourselves made, so I can accept whatever comes of it. my translation: My father and I have come this far by choice. / Whatever happens, we will accept it. notes: i learned the word sentaku 選択, meaning "choice, option." it is different from sentaku 洗濯, meaning "laundry." also it seems that this line was not changed in the volume version; it was only moved around. that's why there's an EH scans translation for this entry. i would say their translation is slightly more accurate, but i'm happy with the concise way i phrased it.

raw: だがもしもの時は部下たちを中央から守るために… / 私はあなたを… transliteration: daga moshimo no toki ha bukatachi wo chuuou kara mamoru tame ni… / watashi ha anata wo… my translation: But if circumstance demands it, in order to protect my subordinates from Central… / I will … notes: "moshimo no toki" refers to unexpected circumstances. moshimo = what if, toki = time, so it's a "what if time." you could translate it as "if anything happens," and i was about to, but i had already used the word "happens" in the last speech bubble and i didn't want it to echo. so i took a liberty and made it sound cooler. as for the second half of the speech bubble, the literal translation is "i will ... you" and the verb is left unsaid. you can imagine the verb implied would be either "stop" or "kill." this is the pain of translation from SOV word order to SVO word order. also, there were very similar lines in the EH scans version, but because they didn't match precisely and i haven't seen the raws they were translating from, i couldn't be sure that the lines were exactly the same. so i didn't include EH scans's translation in this entry.

raw: 負け��つもりはない // すべて手に入れる transliteration: makeru tsumori ha nai // subete te ni haireru my translation: I do not intend to lose. // We will obtain everything we seek. notes: note that this is 100% different from the previous version where tsurumi tells koito to kill him. he just flat-out doesn't say that anymore. the first speech bubble is easy to translate. the second one isn't, or rather, it's hard to make it sound good? subete = everything, te ni haireru = to obtain. i took a minor liberty by making it a "we" pronoun because i think tsurumi would emphasize that his goals are for everyone's sake, not just his own. and i added "we seek" for clarity. also it sounds cooler.

PAGE 4

on this page, i changed the order of the contents of the speech bubbles to make it more of a cohesive sentence in english.

raw: 「私��ちからになって助けてくれ」と // まっすぐにアタイを見てそげん言ってくいやっちょったら / そいでもついて行ったとに transliteration: [watashi no chikara ni natte tasukete kure] to // massugu ni atai wo mite sogen itte kuiyacchottara / soidemo tsuite itta toni my translation: All you had to do was look me in the eye and say, // [Stand with me and lend me your aid,] / and I would have followed you. notes: most prominent note is that koito lapses completely into satsuma dialect for the parts of the line that aren't in brackets. it isn't played as a joke this time; he is not speaking rapidly. tsurumi was able to understand him speaking like this when they first met, and he can understand him now. he says the bracketed part as what he wishes tsurumi would have said to him, and then he says the rest in dialect. "chikara ni naru" = "to be helpful, to be dependable, to stand by (someone)." if taken literally, "chikara ni naru" would mean "become my strength." but to my understanding, it does not have nearly the same intense connotations as the phrase "become my strength" does in english. i think. so that's the part i translated as "stand with me." then, "tasukete kure" means "help me, save me, assist me, support me." gotta figure out which verb makes the most sense in context. it's in the context of joining his team in a military sense, so it implies in the long term, and i think a phrase with a similar feeling that implies a longer term than "help" would be "lend me your aid." so that's how i arrived at "Stand with me and lend me your aid." this is a super important line; i'll write more about its significance down below. one more translation note: he says "massugu ni" (straightforward, frank, honest) with the verb "miru" (look at). so he's saying to "look at me straightforwardly." i phrased it as "look me in the eye" because that's what you do when you're looking at someone straightforwardly. honesty is the important implication (in contrast to sweet lies).

PAGE 5

raw: いくぞ月島 transliteration: ikuzo tsukishima EH scans translation: Let's go, Tsukishima. my translation: Let's go, Tsukishima. notes: could've also phrased it like, "We're leaving, Tsukishima." i have a feeling this line just slipped out of koito's mouth without any thoughts attached to it.

PAGE 6

raw: 月島? // 私の味方はもうお前だけになってしまったな? transliteration: tsukishima? // watashi no mikata ha mou omae dake ni natte shimatta na? EH scans translation: Tsukishima? // It seems you're the only ally I have left, doesn't it? my translation: Tsukishima? // Now you're the only ally I have left, aren't you? notes: tsurumi's use of "shimatta" carries the implication that this is how things have "ended up." a very literal translation could be, "my allies have now ended up becoming only you, huh?" but of course that doesn't sound natural, so it must be finagled. anyway, probably EH scans' version is better than mine. i just wanted to shed a little light on how you can translate the same sentence different ways and both can be right because japanese grammar is so different that there is no single direct counterpart.

plot analysis notes

i think it goes without saying that the changes to this scene are pretty significant in terms of the plot. some reasons are as follows:

when tsukishima calls out to koito in distress (page 2, second panel), it comes after a different line in this version. in the old version, he interrupts a line about koito and his father having come this far. there's not much significance to that except that he was maybe trying to stop koito from saying too much. but in this version, tsukishima cries out after koito's line about testing people with sweet lies. koito has come out and said too much right away. tsukishima is more upset this time because confronting tsurumi about sweet lies would reveal that tsukishima had talked to koito and given away the fact that the kidnapping was a ruse. tsukishima is distressed because he doesn't want tsurumi to think that he is turning on him as well.

new lines show that koito does understand the nature of tsurumi's rebellion against central. honestly it was kind of up in the air before this, given koito's earnest nature and the fact that his high-ranking father would have had to be in on it too. but now we know for sure that he understands. it's easy to look down on koito because he's so naive and emotional, but he's not stupid.

by changing this scene, noda-sensei makes the most of this confrontation, which is koito's last chance to have a calm conversation with tsurumi. (the only confrontation they have after this is when koito yells up at tsurumi on top of the train and tells him to set tsukishima free. but the subject matter is completely different at that time, and the tension is much higher, so that would be no time to bring up sweet lies again.) in terms of wrapping up the unresolved conflict of the kidnapping incident, it's gotta be this scene or nothing. in the altered scene, koito can now say what he wants to say to tsurumi about the kidnapping, make it clear he knows it was a lie, and gauge how tsurumi responds.

tsurumi no longer taunts koito (saying "kill me" when they both know he won't; implying that he would trust koito to carry on his plans because he's just that splendid when they both know he can't). those lines are tossed in the garbage and don't exist anymore. what he now says is short and simple, and it avoids the heart of the matter completely; he ignores 95% of what koito said and only focuses on one aspect (what might happen if they fail). koito hears this bad-faith response and understands that tsurumi will not voluntarily come clean about his lies. that's why he says his emotional next line and leaves it at that.

the line "Stand with me and lend me your aid" (「私のちからになって助けてくれ」) is a very important addition to this scene!!! the reason is that it is the line that koito says to tsukishima in the final chapter! (i haven't gotten there in the raw manga yet, but i've seen it A Lot in japanese fanart, so i recognized it right away.) that later line becomes a callback to this moment! i had no idea! if you had read the magazine version only (and i think we english language readers are all in the same boat in that respect), then you wouldn't have had the full context of that line in the final chapter. it is more satisfying and makes much more sense this way. and this line carries so much weight in both scenes. koito wishes that tsurumi would have earnestly asked for his help instead of tricking him with sweet lies. then, in the final chapter, koito earnestly asks tsukishima to join him by using that same line! it's a complete rejection of tsurumi's "sweet lies" modus operandi! there doesn't need to be any pretense between the two of them! they can just rely on each other honestly and with their whole hearts! (note: EH scans translated that line in the final chapter as, "Lend me your strength. I require your aid." that's good. i like mine better. maybe someone else could translate it even better. i really don't think VIZ will, though.)

tsukishima has an emotional reaction when koito says that. we get a whole new big panel of his face, so that's our cue to think about how tsukishima must feel at that moment. he looks surprised and thoughtful. i think he is impressed by koito's resolve and frankness and the way he made himself vulnerable in that moment by speaking his mind (in his native dialect). he must also be thinking about how this means that the whole kidnapping scheme was a waste of time and caused pain (and cost lives) for no reason. and he's probably thinking about how nice it would have been if tsurumi had said something like that to him instead of trapping him with sweet lies as well. it's a moment where tsukishima is struck by how koito is honest and honorable, and it stands in stark contrast to tsurumi (especially considering the monster that tsurumi has become). this moment helps us better understand why tsukishima sticks with koito at the end of the story.

the following was clear in the other version too, but when koito says it's time to go, tsukishima is clearly turning to follow him (he turns 180 degrees right in front of us). that's notable. first of all, i don't think koito said that and expected tsukishima to follow him in a "you better choose me or him right now!" kind of way. i think it slipped out. tsukishima has become a staple in his life, and he expects him to be at his side at all times, so he tried to walk away with him out of habit without considering what it would look like to tsurumi. on a similar note, i don't think tsukishima was about to follow koito in a "now we're turning our backs on tsurumi forever" kind of way. it was a kind of subconscious movement; he found himself turning to follow the person he really wanted to follow. and there are motion lines showing that he stops moving when tsurumi calls out to him. if tsurumi hadn't stopped him, i wonder how far he would have gotten before catching himself and thinking about how it would look to tsurumi if he followed koito out of the building.

it seems that that after this scene, koito isn't exactly working toward tsurumi's goals anymore. in the last panel of the last page here, he notices tsukishima isn't following him. that's probably when he thinks about the implications of trying to take tsukishima with him, so he goes off by himself. the next time we see him, he confronts fleeing shiraishi and fights nagakura on the bridge. but why is he doing that? maybe because he thinks tsurumi getting the land deed would be better for japan than if team hijikata kept it. it can't be blind allegiance to tsurumi at this point, right? and then a little later (after jumping in the moat), koito sees tsukishima riding away with tsurumi on horseback, so he follows them and ends up at the train. why does koito board the train and fight hijikata? is it still in pursuit of tsurumi's goals? or is it to protect his subordinates on the train, especially tsukishima? it has to be the latter, right? he doesn't do anything explicitly rebellious, but his allegiance to tsurumi is basically gone at that point, and that's why he is able to confront tsurumi in tsukishima's defense on the back of the train car. so in essence, the scene in this post was the final turning point in the relationship between koito and tsurumi. his goal has become "protecting his subordinates (especially tsukishima) from being sacrified by tsurumi."

in conclusion, i kinda wish noda-sensei wouldn't make sweeping changes to art AND dialogue in very important scenes... but i think this change was pretty good.

EDIT: i found out that piduai also translated these pages, and they ended up with a very similar translation to mine for that one important line! yeahh! i've discovered the MVP piduai! i encourage you to compare the translations.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy translation notes #koito otonoshin #tsukishima hajime #golden kamuy spoilers #SPOILERS UP TO THE END OF THE FINAL CHAPTER OF GOLDEN KAMUY #translating and typesetting and reposting 6 whole pages of manga falls under fair use if you surround it with a big honking essay right #i didn't explicitly make this post about tsukishima/koito the ship #but rest assured that the underlying implication of everything i've written here is that they love each other #i was like ''good this post doesn't mention ogata even once. my honor is restored'' but shit it does mention ogata once. fuck #(gripping desk) IS IT NORMAL TO POST SOMETHING LONG LIKE THIS ON CHRISTMAS EVE? IS IT NORMAL OR IS IT WEIRD? IT'S NORMAL RIGHT?

128 notes · View notes

raes-writing-space · 1 month

Text

Yuji Itadori x Reader *Perfectionist Tendencies Comfort*

Warnings: Self-Doubt, a bit of self-deprecation, one mine swear word? Mentions of other jujutsu sorcerers dying. Not beta read.

Summary: You've been wanting to become an Jujutsu sorcerer and help people your whole life, but you hold yourself to a different standard. After making a tiny mistake (which does not feel tiny to you at all) you start to doubt that you'll ever be good enough. Yuji comforts the reader and tells them that we can't all be perfect all the time, that we need to forgive ourselves from time to time, and we can only strive to do our best.

Word Count: 1, 212

A/N: I don't think I made Yuji too ooc, but sorry if I did? To save scroll time it's under the "keep reading" line.

The frustration from the mission you were assigned with Megumi couldn't seem to leave you, even hours after the mission had finished. Things went by successfully, but you couldn't help but dwell on your actions and how you handled the situation. You miscalculated your cursed technique, the curse you were fighting suddenly gaining a sense of speed it didn't show before. You just nearly missed it, as the curse surged forward towards you and knocked you onto the ground faster than you could really process it. Luckily it hadn't decided to attack you, as Megumi had caught it's attention before it came to that. Megumi hadn't even thought about it, even after you apologized for how you handled things, he didn't understand your apology. He figured that these things happened all the time, and if you were the one to coax out another ability the curse had, it was better than finding out later when it was too late. Still, things could have been a lot worse, has Megumi not gotten it's attention, you could have gotten seriously injured, or hell, even killed. How were things going to be when you were up against a grade one cursed spirit? A simple miscalculation like the one you had could have much worse consequences, and a lot more than your own life at stake. Yuji could sense that something was wrong as the two of you had arrived back at Jujutsu High, but honestly, that's just how some missions went. It wasn't until Megumi had told him about how the mission went, that Yuji thought he should check up on you. When you heard a knock on your dormitory door, you honestly weren't sure who to expect. You even half-expected for it to be Gojo. So when you opened the door to see Yuji, you didn't know how you should greet him.

"Hey, I heard from Fushiguro about the mission. I just wanted to see how you were." Yuji greeted you with a soft smile.

You always appreciated how caring he was, it made him someone you could easily rely on. You shrugged at first, letting him come into your dorm to sit and hang out.

"How much did Fushiguro tell you?" "I mean, everything, I guess… But he mentioned you apologizing to him for how you handled the mission. I didn't really understand it, since the way he said it, I thought things went just fine." He explained.

You sighed, you wouldn't be surprised if Megumi downplayed the situation. From your point of view, things felt like they were messy. Maybe for Fushiguro the mission would be considered a breeze for him, but for you? Not so much. You knew that Fushiguro has been at Jujutsu High for a lot longer than you had, or at least knew more about curses and cursed energy than you were. But you weren't that far behind him, you worked hard to learn how to control and maintain your cursed technique. Yet, after today, you felt as if you might not have been working hard enough.

"The mission was a success, but I don't think that things went "just fine." I made a mistake, and we were luckily it wasn't worse." You told him honestly, Yuji's features showed that of concern and confusion in response.

"What happened?" He simply asked.

"I went to use my curse technique, and I… I missed. The curse was a lot faster than I thought, and it knocked me to the ground, but luckily Fushiguro was able to handle it before things got worse… But that's starting to sound like the typical thing that happens when we're paired up on missions."

"Fushiguro told me that you did hit it though, that you scratched it's arm." Yuji spoke of the perspective he had heard.

You didn't know you managed to scratch the curse but that still didn't make you feel any better about the situation, "Even if I did, that's not what was supposed to happen. I should be better at this by now, I've been wanting to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer for a long time, and now that I'm here, I can't afford to just miss!"

Yuji could tell how frustrated you were, he knew that it wasn't just about this particular mission, that this might have been one of many missions that all happened the same way.

"What if I just don't have what it takes?" You questioned out loud, it wasn't exactly what you meant to say out loud. But if you thought anyone could understand what you may be going through, it would be Yuji.

"Hey, don't say that!" Yuji couldn't help but feel defensive for you, even if it was your own words. "Not everything happens the way we want it to. We can try and predict what could happen and adapt but it's not like we'll always be right. Even when the curse did something you didn't expect at all, you still managed to hit the curse, didn't you? That sounds pretty impressive to me." Yuji tried his best to reassure you in some way.

You shrugged at first, "But what happens when I have to fight higher grade curses? What if I don't even have someone else to help me?"

"Then you just do your best."

"What if my best isn't good enough?" You continued to question, and Yuji paused for a second before replying.

"Then that was still your best. Do you think the sorcerer's who die on missions weren't giving it their best? Everyone's best is different, and it might look different on different says or different situations, and it might look different compared to others, but you're still doing your best. That's all we really can do. You can't expect things to be perfect, or else it would be too easy." Yuji answered after a moment, which made you pause as you took in what he was saying.

Yuji had a point, there were so many sorcerers that give it their all, and sometimes still just aren't that lucky. While it's sad to think about their deaths, you thought it would be rude to discredit them when they gave their entire lives to protect others. How would you be any different in that instance? How would you learn to grow and get better without a bit of a challenge?

"Yeah, I guess you've got a point…" You spoke, really thinking about his words further.

It didn't fix things immediately, but it at least did give you a new perspective on things. Maybe you could at least give yourself a little bit more forgiveness. All you really could do is try your best every day, and try and do better.

"Really? Oh man, I was really hoping that made sense." Yuji let out a sigh of relief, making you smile at how could be so wise and at the same time kind of clueless.

"Don't worry, it did…"

Yuji had stood up, stretching and heading back to your dormitory door to leave you be. You followed him so that you could properly send him off.

"Thanks for checking up on me, Yuji." "Of course, you can count on me." He smiled brightly at you, before turning to leave with a wave of his hand.

#jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori #jjk x reader #Comfort Character Comfort Prompts

14 notes · View notes

youandtom2 · 2 years

Note

Hey I saw that your quick stables are open. I was wondering if you would do a continuation of ‘Big Brother Is Watching’? Absolutely no pressure, totally fine if you don’t want to write it!

The Great Escape (dark!tom holland)

a/n: This isn't a drabble nor is a continuation. It's more of a 4.1K extension of Big Brother's Watching that's been sitting in my drafts for ages! So thank you for giving me the motivation to finish it! I'm still accepting drabble requests!

Read 'Big Brother's Watching' // MASTERLIST tw: domestic/physical abuse - read at your own risk!

Not once had you ever thought he could become such a monster. A creature blinded by insecurity but yet powered by control. You can't even describe him as a human anymore, because there is nothing humane about what he does to you. And sadly, you could probably say the same thing about yourself; the way you are being treated is far from the standard care of basic human rights. Being held captive in austere conditions as a confined animal; that is what you must become in order to survive.

You've lost the ability to love, but yet that's all he wants from you. At first it was natural, it was easy to love his modest personality that enticed you the moment you met him. As well as his charming looks. And nothing could stop you indulging in his chocolate gems that he has been blessed with since birth. He was always craving your love and attention and you tried your best to provide, but it became increasingly worrying how, and how often, he would chase after your affection. Others considered it sweet, but you found it exhausting at times. That's when things started to change; when doubt was introduced and it diseased your mind, telling you that you couldn't love this man anymore for the person he had become: volatile, desperate and conniving.

At the time, the signs were transparent and not enough for you to translate. But it was too late by the time you were able to decipher them. He already had you trapped.

"Love? I'm home!" Tom's voice echoes down the corridor and into your room. Well, you say your room, but it's really his. He just keeps you there.

You recognise the snide facade laced in his tone of voice; it's fake and he knows it's fake. Then come his trudging footsteps, bouncing down the corridor on his way to see you. Fear laced with utmost hatred spikes through your veins at the second the doorknob turns. In your corner you watch as he makes his way into the room, making sure to close the door behind him and in one split second, silence falls and there's nothing but empty air between him and you.

"Love," he murmurs deeply, his pet name for you being used far from its true meaning. "Aren't you going to welcome me home?" He spreads his long arms, standing there as if waiting for gold to rain down on him. You meekly stand up, nimble limbs aching from injuries as you shuffle closer to him, preparing yourself to be engulfed by him. As you approach him, his impatience closes the gap between you and his arms snake around your waist, squeezing you just that little bit tighter. "That's better." Being so close to him, the internal sound of his low husky voice reverberates through your hollow body. It's haunting to say the least.

As if in response, your body murmurs back to him, except it's your stomach and not your voice. Your empty stomach yearns for food.

"Hungry, darling?"

"Yes," you whisper. His arms uncoil themselves, but he still has a lock on you.

"Good, because Harrison and his girlfriend have asked us to dinner," he announces. He sinks his head lower, just enough that his lips delicately skim the corner of your ear. A wicked grin dons his face, you don't even need to see it to know. "If you behave I might let you get dessert. Remember, love- "

"I know," you spit distastefully. You already know the deal: if you happen to give away as much as an inkling about your situation to anyone, there will be trouble. If you dare to stray from the act, there will be trouble. If you say one word out of place, there will be trouble. Why? Well you are his girlfriend after all, why would you be begging for help? He is aware that if he doesn't let you out to see people, they would get suspicious. He's taking his pet out on a leash.

Before you get his permission to move, he slides his hand underneath your jaw and his fingers curl around your chin, guiding him up to you.

"Watch that pretty, little mouth of yours," he moans, inching closer to steal a kiss from you. The only thing you're thankful for is that the kiss isn't too assertive. Ironically, they're gentle but compassionate. Maybe that's just part of his strategy to make you fall for him like you once did years ago, but given the circumstances, nothing could persuade you to do such a thing.

He hums into the kiss, snaking his arm back around your waist whilst you wait for it to be over. "Go and get yourself ready."

The clock ticks on as you patiently wait by the door for him, like a dog waiting to be walked. You can't bear to think of the humiliation if anyone were to see you like this; submissive, helpless, dependent. What's worse is that they would continue living not knowing that this was never your choice. Despite your desperation for redemption, you would scoff at people advising to 'just walk away' because it's never that simple. If it was, you would've walked away a long time ago. Unfortunately he's just too clever.

"Love," he beckons. Stop calling me that! "Be good for me, please. You don't want to ruin it for yourself, do you?"

You shake your head. Accepting your response as the correct one, he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"You know I only do what's best for you. For us." If only that were true. Tom swiftly guides you out of his home and your prison before you can protest.

The restaurant was Harrison's choice, a lovely one too. Tom would never bring you to a place like this. It's magical. Across the table sits the power couple that is Harrison and his girlfriend. You can't help but gawk at the way they look at each other endearingly...but it's in that same moment that the pang of jealousy convinces you to look the other way. Tom was once like that, and as afraid as you are to admit it, you were too. Now there's nothing. You're hollow.

The food arrives and the mesmerising meal in front of you has your mouth salivating.

"God, I'm starved," you mumble. Your audience shares chuckles at your passing comment. It isn't a joke but they don't know that. You didn't spare a thought of the repercussions until after the words slip from your mouth, because now it has gained you your warning for tonight. Tom rests his hand on your thigh, curling his fingernails into your skin. You squirm at the pain, or rather, you try not to. When it finally ends you look up to find his menacing eyes, covertly disguised within his smiles. Message received, loud and clear.

The conversation flows back and forth easily between the four of you and Tom seems content. Thankfully. No one seems to suspect anything. Sometimes it ruins you knowing that you are trying not to raise suspicions for the sake of your health, but then again, you could argue you should be raising suspicions for the same reason.

That's what hurts.

"So, Tom tells me you've been writing a lot. How's that going?" Harrison asks. You look up mid-mouthful. You're trying to conceal the fact that you've been longing for such delicious food for days, and it doesn't exactly help when you have to resist the hunger, having to put down the fork to speak. Does anyone really care for manners anyway?

"Um, yeah, it's going alright. Deadlines are coming up so I have very little time to get out these days."

The well-rehearsed conversation goes to plan and the audience is convinced. You're not really a writer. You don't really have deadlines coming up. And in fact, you have all the time in the world to get out. If only you could.

You've finished your role, now it's Tom's time to shine. "Yeah she's been working so hard, haven't you? I've been telling her to take breaks more often and to get out, but...she's dedicated. It's inspiring," he gleams. He reaches over to tuck a strand behind your ear while a thumb glides across your cheek, reminding you of where the remnants of a bruise remains camouflaged beneath your makeup. Again, another warning.

Teeth grinding, fists clenching, blood boiling. You could almost scream at the irony and the facade, but you know the rules; you can't let anyone suspect a thing.

As you wait for your second course, that's when time really starts to slow down. You don't know how long you can keep the charade going, especially if you're being toyed by Tom's incessant teasing of freedom. It's almost as if he wants you to get yourself into trouble.

Ah. Now here's the real trouble. You need the toilet. Tom hates when you're not in his sight which is why trying to get yourself to the one place he can't go seems like mission impossible. In a hopeless attempt, you cross your legs, squeezing them together as if that's going to help for the unforeseeable future. You look to Tom for permission, but he's too engrossed in the conversation with Harrison that he doesn't pay you any mind. However, it's because he's too engrossed in the conversation that he doesn't notice the subtle clearing of Grace’s throat.

Her concerned eyes meet yours.

Are you okay?

I'm desperate.

She can’t seem to interpret your ambiguous message until you subtly gesture to your hand where you enclose your thumb within your fist. Her eyes widen with shock and horror, taking a cautionary glance over Tom. She knows. Nervous, you observe intently as she delicately picks up her glass of water within the curve of her hand, bringing it gently to her lips, eyes fixated on yours.

Get ready.

Beguiling eyes watch as the glass of water drops to her lap, spilling water all the way down her dress. The boys are whipped from their conversation as they scramble to clean up the mess.

"Silly me!" she exclaims. "Ah, shit. Would you mind coming to the toilet to help me out?" Her eyes turn to you and without a moment's hesitation you rise from your seat with a 'no, I don't mind at all!'. This is it, this is your opportunity. "You guys don't mind do you? We'll only be a minute!"

You don't look to Tom for permission this time. He doesn't have that authority now, especially in a public restaurant in front of his own friends. With each step that carries you away from him and into salvation feels like a hefty weight of a year being relieved from your shoulders. Just simply out of spite, your head peers over your shoulder to find very, very agitated, but restrained, eyes following your every move. Although he loves to make the rules, it amuses you when he becomes detained by his own words. He won't stop you because he can't raise suspicions himself. Ha!

Grace drags into the ladies toilet, thankfully empty, and turns to face you.

"Pee first. Explanation after."

Thank you, you angel.

"Please tell me there is a genuine reason I had to do that," she pleads as she dabs her silk dress.

"Um...well..."

"Oh my god there is, isn't there? I knew it! I always knew something wasn't right! Harrison refused to believe me..."

"Wait...you knew?"

"Well I don't know what I know. I've always thought that there's something not quite right with Tom for a while now, with you-" she pauses when she takes in your skeletal frame now that you have stepped out from the cubicle. "Holy fuck..." Her gentle hands run down the lengths of your arms before engulfing you in a hug. A real hug; not something you're forced into. "Is it true?" You nod, words replaced by tears. "I didn't realise how bad it was, I'm so sorry, I should've done something sooner." Grace retreats, but close enough to run her thumb over your cheek, exactly like Tom did but this time you wince, he isn't here to reprimand you. "He's hurt you..." she whispers. The shock has reduced her voice into nothing, clearly in disbelief of the unimaginable pain you've suffered.

"Still does," you sniff. "I-I need help, Grace, I don't know how to get out."

"I'll help you, darlin', I will, don't worry-"

"But he c-can't find out, he's too smart. You even said so yourself, if Harrison won't believe you, how can we convince anyone? No one would believe what he's really like!"

"I'll make him believe, okay? Trust me. I will do everything I can to help you. But first," she takes a step back, whipping out her phone from her clutch. "I know this will be painful, but show me where he has hurt you. Are there any...marks o-or bruises?" she winces.

You show her, letting her capture every scar, burn, bruise, scab, cut and mark there is on your body, even the fingernail marks he made just moments before. Every single one of them has a story to be told, and they were all left there by Tom. It is humiliating, but it's a step closer to liberation.

You're starting to become wary of how long you're taking, and you know that if you're not sat by his side in less than a minute, he will come hunting. You retouch your appearances, quickly devise a plan, and let Grace coordinate your redemption, praying with every ounce of hope you have left that she's successful. All you need to do now is wait.

"Okay," she sighs, "stay strong for me, yeah? I'll get you help as soon as I can. Just-" she sighs hopelessly, "just hang in there." She kisses your cheek and you both strut back to your table next to your counterparts. Tom's scrutinising glower already fixated on you, and it seems that he's relinquished control of his body to his temperament. He's fighting his own demons now: the fidgeting of his fingers, the non-stop drumming of his knee, the grinding of his jaw, the obsessive need to know his surroundings, it's all there.

The facade perks up again as soon as you are sat next to him, already his arm slinging around your dainty shoulders.

"Sorted?" Harrison asks, pecking Grace’s cheek.

"Sorted," she ambiguously peers at you.

Sadly enough you didn't get dessert.

You and Tom very swiftly vacated after your visit to the toilet upon receiving an 'urgent message' that required Tom's immediate attention, leaving no time for Harrison or Grace to query this 'urgent message'.

Tom marches about three paces ahead of you and your pulse quickens at the sight of his front door. Key in hand - no, fist - as he slots it into the door, opening it and standing by it, waiting for you. Memories repeat themselves and you’re living deja vu. You've experienced his temperament before, the only silver lining being that you have a slight upper hand of predicting what he will do next. You think about your next steps carefully. He'll seize you the first chance he gets to interrogate you, but if you have the energy to sprint past him, which you should thanks to your nutritious meal, you could make it to the bathroom before he reaches you. Is it a risk you're willing to take? Hell yes.

Three, two, one. GO!

Everything happens so quickly. With a burst of adrenaline, your feet carry you past Tom, narrowly missing as he reaches out for you. With your escape, belligerent footsteps chase you in pursuit. You can't afford to look behind you, you have to keep your eyes forward, running in the pursuit of safety that is behind the sturdy lock of the bathroom door. Oxygen passes through your weary lungs but you won't give up now, not with the possibility that you could be free from this in a matter of 24 hours. Swinging left and right, nearly clambering over the mess in the hallway, you successfully make it to your temporary safety.

The door slams shut just mere seconds before Tom could get his hands on you. You stand breathlessly in the haunting bathroom as the aged, wooden door in front of you visibly rattles from its hinges. If it can just hold a little longer...

"Open the door!" he growls.

"No!" You shout back. The rattling stops and silence falls. Either your defiance has shocked him into silence or he really is listening. The latter of the two being an inconceivable suggestion considering tonight's events. How hopeful of you.

A minute passes by and nothing is heard. Panic settles in as you can't even begin to imagine what plan Tom has devised. Taking an inch at a time, you glide across the icy floor tiles, approaching the rickety door with immediate precaution. The cracks through the wood let you see through to the other side and Tom's nowhere to be seen. Not a single soul, but that doesn't mean you're safe. You don't even dare thinking about turning that door knob, not for one second because for every minute that goes by is one minute closer to freedom.

Footsteps approach again and Tom's silhouette floats towards the door but this time, his composure is scarily tame. Aside from the familiar, haunting footsteps there's a new sound, one that should be liberating but in your case could mean the end for you.

The jangling of keys. Specifically, keys to the lock that keeps you in and him out. You didn't know he kept spare keys...

You admit your defeat when the lock turns and unlocks. You don't even move, you can't. It's the paralysing hopelessness that renders your feet frozen to the spot as the rickety door eases open with a tantalising creak. Before you, Tom unveils his malice, his intention speaking for him as he closes the door in a calm demeanour that provokes your fear even more. With your back against the wall, all you can do now is pray.

"Please, Tom, don't. Please, please, please, I didn't say anything, I promise, please don't hurt me," you plead, your voice barely a whisper.

"Why don't I believe you?" He steps closer, his body testing his temper. He's a hair's breadth away now, but still he hasn't laid a finger on you. Unintelligible words are passing your lips, even you can't make sense of your desperate pleas. "Hm?" He cocks his head ever so slightly to the left and eases closer to your ear, forehead drilling into the side of yours. "What. Did. You. Say. To. Her?" he bites.

"N-nothing! I promise-"

"Don't lie to me!" He swings and his fist collides with the wall beside you with an almighty blow. Specs of dust and rubble roll down your shoulder as you let out a piercing scream. All you can do is cower into yourself, it's the only thing that helps to physically block out his manic shouting, to stop him muttering hostile threats into your ear. Having lost your last line of defence, your knees give way and buckle beneath you leaving you a crumpled mess on the floor, eyes tearful and suddenly your camouflage dissipates. You can't hide the bruises now.

Tight hands coil your wrists, not in anger, but in desperation. Blood trickles down from his knuckles after the sharp blow to the bathroom wall. He sobs your name, completely unaware that he himself has taken an emotional diversion. As conditioned, you meet his eyes, both alike in appearance however as for motive, it's clear you both want different things.

"Please," he mutters, "for me. Promise me you didn't say anything."

In amongst the inconsolable sobs, you do somehow find the oxygen to lie to him hoping that it'll convince him and end this torture. He reconciles with his anger and sinks his head low, body drooping towards yours until finally, out of exhaustion, his head collapses rather uncomfortably into the curve of your neck still continuously sobbing.

He's defeated, he knows that. His insecurity has clearly gotten out of control and you hate to admit that you pity him. You do. You almost begin to speculate that he's just as lonely as you are. He yearns for attention, love and decent care. You just can't give that to him and due to his insecurity and despair, he can't accept that. He can't let go of his lifeline.

You take the opportunity in Tom's sensitive state to bring his wits about him with words you wouldn't dare speak if under any other circumstances.

"Tom, please, listen to me," you croak, voice worn away from terror. "I can't always be here for you-"

"You have to!" His words hit your collarbone.

"You need help! You can't live your life like this, and you know you can't live mine for me either. I can't give you what you want or what you need."

"But I need you," he pleads. He lifts his head, his hands circling your face and soaking up your tears. "You can't leave me!"

"Tom, let her go..."

A new voice enters the conversation. Relief washes over you as you find Harrison and Grace standing breathlessly in the doorway in front of the domestic mess that's ensued for the past year. Your liberation has arrived, your beam of light, your freedom. In that moment of sweet release, you could swear that you heard something break; maybe it was Tom's heart, maybe it was his sanity, or maybe it was his supremacy over you, but whatever it was, there's no denying that you could see it in his eyes. Betrayal and defeat are two very prominent emotions that are seeping from him as little droplets of tears fall onto your lap.

"You told her?" he whispers, lip quivering. If hopelessness was a person...

"I had to..." you whisper back. Harrison's hand cautiously rests on Tom's shoulder pulling him back from you. The space between you grows and grows until finally you are whipped from his clutches and your eyes disconnect for the last time. Grace leads you to the living room where you find two broody police officers waiting to escort you to the ambulance, one staying behind to deal with Tom in whatever way that may be.

"We told them we'd go by ourselves. Couldn't risk the police triggering a reaction from him especially if he was with you." You really didn't ask nor did you care, for now you are a free soul.

"Thank you, Grace."

~~~~

The rest of the night falls peacefully as you are tucked up into a hospital bed accompanied by Harrison and Grace. The doctor had completed his observation within a short amount of time and told you what you already know...

'Nothing broken, a few bruises here and there but you'll be okay.'

Will you? What about the colossal build up of emotional abuse? Or the scars disfiguring your skin? What will rectify that? Where's the justice in that?

You bite your tongue, frustration isn't going to fix anything.

As you lie there, you think back on the days you spent with Tom, not in sentiment but in remorse. Remorse for not taking action sooner, remorse for not realising Tom's symptoms sooner, remorse for not telling someone. You assume that the feeling won't leave you anytime soon as you dread the numerous visits to court, the recalling of the awful days to testify against him, and the public outcry from fans as you send him to jail. It will be the last battle to fight against him, but at least you know how uplifted you will feel when there comes a day where you can wake up to your own life, regaining back the days you have lost and finding love the right way. There will come a day where you can finally make your own decisions, dress how you want to dress, say what you want to say, act how you want to act and maybe, just maybe, you can be the liberation that other women, like you, dream of having.

And this time there's nothing holding you back.

#dark!tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland #angst #fanfic #peter parker #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #dark!tom holland x reader

166 notes · View notes