#average casual lobby experience

[squeeegs]

the absolute state of tf2 right now

#average casual lobby experience #tf2 #scout #pyro #soldier #tf2 fanart #my-art #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #savetf2 #team fortress 2

[mneiai]

Omg saw a post saying that AO3 is anti-capitalism.

An organization that relies on unpaid labor when it has the funds to pay people is not anti-capitalism, that's like the definition of capitalism.

ETA since some weirdos sucking OTW dick on this casual previously two sentence post clearly labeled "anti ao3" can't seem to understand: OTW has had disturbing amounts of surplus funds for multiple years they weren't spending on anything, including on, say, hiring a machine learning engineer to design a better moderation system, or a consultant to offer advice on diminishing the rampant racism issues on AO3, or even a web developer with experience in localization to improve translated versions of the sites.

Their legal fund might as well be pennies in a piggybank, if there were ever a real legal issue they'd have to...you guessed it, rely on unpaid labor (in fact, that's what their "legal partners" are). That money could be put towards lobbying or other preparations for an eventual legal challenge, but they keep it in a useless fund so people can continue pretending like it would totally cover the actual costs of such a battle.

There are a variety of labor experts, of course, who would be more than willing to assist them in getting setup to hire/pay some people, probably regardless of what country those people are in (international non-profits with far smaller profiles do this regularly, people are lying when they say this is some hugely complicated thing a non-profit could never ever do). I literally volunteered for a much smaller one that had exactly one paid employee who was from another country, even, this is not an unusual thing, people who claim it is are blatantly lying to you.

OTW is not run like a normal non-profit. It gets away with doing things that the average well-meaning person would not be okay with from another non-profit (assuming they knew anything about non-profits), because it's something people like, so they're looking the other way.

If you can't criticize it, what does that become? If you don't allow people to point out its flaws, how can you claim to have any moral high ground? You're like weird fanfic extremists or something, attacking anyone who points out something you take personal offense to like they kicked your baby with a bunch of shady arguments designed to obscure the fact that unpaid labor when an organization can afford to pay some people is 100% capitalism.

#anti ao3

[highhornyconfessions]

About ten years ago Craigslist had the "casual encounters" section. I had a few successful encounters before they got rid of it.

One night I was high and horny and I got fixated on the idea of meeting a woman I had never met before at a hotel with the intent to do blow and fuck all night. So I made a post and after about an hour of spam bots i got a real reply from a sexy thick blonde milf that was 10 years older than me.

We emailed back and forth for about a day, feeling each other out and when we both were sure we were legit, we began making plans on when and where. I chose a nice hotel with an in room jacuzzi that was close to where she lived called Lake Tarpon Resort (the name has since changed).

The day arrives and I pick up an 🎱 from my co-worker and head to the hotel, two cities away from me. I was a bit nervous on the drive, it was raining pretty hard and the whole situation was crazy to begin with. Stopped at a Walgreens and sat for a moment to think things through and decided I'd come that far, this is going down. So I buy a box of condoms and drive the final mile to the hotel.

I go in the lobby and there she is, exactly like her pictures. She was wearing what looked like basically sexy office worker attire, black heels, black skirt, white blouse, black jacket. Sounds plain the way I described it but she looked hot in it.

I get our room key and we head up. The moment we're in the room we're all over each other, kissing, ours hands exploring each other's bodies until I pull away and pull out the ❄ and break out some lines. Watching a woman do a line of blow is a huge turn on for me, so when she did hers I was rock hard and ready to go.

I just undress like normal which disappointed her because she wanted to undress me. So to make up for it I push her on the bed and begin undressing her, trying to be sexy but really just doing it frantically and awkwardly. It doesn't matter, we're high, she's wet, I'm hard, were ready to fuck.

Now, I was hardly sexually experienced at the time, I'd never even given a woman oral. I wasn't a virgin but I had only had sex like 3 times before, so a part of the reason I wanted to do this in the first place was to get some proper experience under my belt lol.

She tells me she wants to suck my cock, so I lay down. She tells me my cock is huge, which I just roll my eyes at because at the time I didn't think it was anything but average, and then begins to give me a passable bj (I've never really enjoyed getting head all that much, even today). Then she surprises me by putting the condom on me with her mouth like a hooker lol. She straddles me and sits on my cock, and to my surprise she's still acting like it's huge, easing it in slow like she can't take it. I think she's just trying to make me feel good. She finally had my cock all the way inside her pussy and she tells me not move. She just sits there catching her breath then finally begins to ride my cock. I grab her tits but then after maybe the third time she bounces on my cock she lets out a loud moan as her whole body shudders. She came and I barely did anything. At the moment I began to think maybe she wasn't just trying to be nice about the size of my cock, especially when I saw how wet my pelvis and thighs were from her. That's when I knew that night was gonna be even better than I had imagined.

She rides me until we both cum together. We do some more lines and after a bit it's time for round 2. I love kissing so I wanted her on her back missionary style. I put the second condom on myself and climb on the bed. As I push my cock inside she's whimpering and telling me to go slow, so I do. Once I'm in her, I begin to fuck her in the most awful "push up style" looking way, you know, holding my upper body up with my arms like I'm doing a push up while I clumsily thrusted my lower body forward. This was exactly why I wanted to use the night as practice. Finally I figured out that resting on my knees while keeping my upper body upright is way better and I began to finally fuck her good and proper. She didn't last long again and neither did I, but when I was about to cum she DEMANDS that I "Take that fucking condom off" and cum on her. I pull out and try pulling the condom off and she immediately grabs it from me and yanks it off my cock so fast, which to this day is one of the hottest things I've ever experienced-- seeing just how badly she wanted me to cum on her that she couldn't wait for me to take it off so pulled it off herself. I shoot big load and she says "Fuck yes, that's what I wanted" when it manages to get on her face as well.

The rest of the tale is hazy. We stopped using condoms for the rest of the night. We kept doing blow in between each round until it was gone. Fucked her 5 times total, round 3 was my first time giving a cream pie, round 4 we fucked standing doggy and I came disappointingly small amount on her ass, and round 5 was after we went to sleep, I woke up to her grabbing on my cock which was already hard and fucked her as we laid on our sides, cumming inside her again if any cum actually came out of me lol.

I still am in touch with her to this day, though we have never met up again. I wish I could remember more details, but as Rick James said... Cocaine is a Hell of a drug.

#meet and fuck #let's get high and fuck #sex and drugs #sex with strangers #sex confessions #florida #crazy story #true stroy

[yaboyhoney]

Warden Ingo with a s/o who straight up tells him what he has forgotten and missed while he was in Hisui and it's not sad or anything like that. It's played out as a casual conversation with the reader.

like-

'speaking of time and portal stuff, there was a rumor going around Paldea and Alola-"

'I guess we won't need that memorial in the subway. whos memorial? yours of course!"

'How am I supposed to explain to our children!- I'm kidding, we don't have children haha'

Ingo's reaction would be processing to huh??? to wtf????

Post- Hisui Warden Ingo x Male Reader

Okay Ingo had been missing for about three months but to him he spent roughly three years in Hisui. You were on the brink of mental collapse before he came back; having spent a lot of time with Emmet and their friends in a combined effort to try and find him.

But the day he actually comes home was shocking, all things considering. He woke up in his bed, realized this wasn't Hisui and went to investigate only to be woken up by your screams since you were laying besides him, mistaking him for an intruder.

What quickly became a frightful experience became sudden cathartic relief as you hugged Ingo tightly, not wanting to ever let go

Time has since passed but Ingo can't help but to note you've been acting a bit...off.

You were helping him catch up with what he's missed but you try do it playfully. Oh his funeral? Guess we can cancel that and instead send everyone a new notice that you're alive!

His job at the Subway Station? It's not his anymore, it's yours!

The children, think of the children, except you don't have any.

Ingo thinks you're at first messing with him, trying to make light of the situation, not fully understanding it.

He wishes he knew why you acted like this but there's little he can do when he's not allowed to leave the hospital, he suffered another injury when he came back and required a minor surgery. You've visited as often as you could.

one day you came back for a quick cup of coffee, a photo album, and his morning breakfast that you made yourself, before leaving to go to work. The photo album has many photos of you and Ingo since the two of you began your relationship and he can't help but to notice a stark difference in your complexion.

The first photos began to tell a tale of your romantic stories with Ingo, you and your bright and sunny smile, both of you with a younger complexion, but now?

He's taken note of your tired eyes, your strands of gray hair, how you act in the morning, you've grown some facial hair. You're unable to cope without caffeine in the morning and come home crashing into the bed at night. You functioned at a higher than average standard and would come back home late to try and investigate his disappearance. Now that he came back, you were most likely getting up earlier to make him his breakfast as well...

He realizes you're trying to make light of the situation so that he wouldn't see how difficult things had been for you the past three months. You've cared for the apartment, Emmet, Elesa, Skyla, his pokemon, and the subway while he's been gone. You did all of that not just for him, but for Emmet's sake too. Had you not been there, what would have happened to him? What would have become of Emmet?

The next morning you see him, it's the weekend. You have your day off work and Ingo is allowed to be released. He waits for you in the lobby and when he sees you, you give him a smile, the sound of your boots clacking against the clean tiled floors.

You weren't expecting your boyfriend to come running at you, with a fierce expression on his face. At first you thought you did something wrong, but Ingo quickly wraps his arms around you and gives you a tight hug that eases into a tender embrace.

"i'm truly sorry dear, for everything you've gone through. Please allow me to ease your burdens for today. Now is there anything you'd like to do?"

"Give me a kiss and I'll think of the rest," you say smiling, with your index finger and thumb holding his chin.

#made this comfort angst lol #i just couldn't really think of how else to do the prompt without making the reader insert be an asshole #ingo x reader #warden ingo x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon x reader #my writing

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Are you a Dead by Daylighter / Player? lol If you are, who do you main and whats your overall opinion on the whole mess the game and the fanbase is?

LOL That’s a very loaded question anon and while I don’t usually like to make negative posts or indulge in any “this fanbase is terrible” nonsense cause every fanbase has that issue, I will share my experiences with the game mostly because while I don’t play anymore I’m really upset that I haven’t played cause it used to be a fun game for me.

The main thing that got me to quit were the Pinhead NFTs but that was kind of the straw that broke the camel’s back situation. I’m not sure exactly how that whole situation got dealt with/solved other than the studio seemed to be under contract to let this NFT company use their Pinhead assets for their NFTs so I won’t talk too much about that.

My main issues started when they “fixed” the matchmaking so you were SUPPOSED to match with players that were your skill level. I don’t know how well they changed this system currently but playing when it was first implemented absolutely ruined my love for the game. I’m not a great player by any means but I would say I was average. I knew my way around the map and how to dodge certain killers and stuff like that. And although I didn’t play much killer because of the long ass queues (understandable as it is way easier to join a lobby as a survivor than a killer) I was about average there too as I slowly kept leveling up the characters I did enjoy playing as.

But once matchmaking got changed? It didn’t matter. As I understood it you were supposed to match with people of similar skill level based on their new level system for matchmaking but I was NEVER with people my skill level. I was constantly dying or losing every single match. We were told if we lose enough times the system will eventually match us with similarly leveled people. Fucking NOPE never happened for me. Matches went from being challenging and every once in a while coming across a baby or god tier killer, and now I was constantly feeling like I just wasn’t a good enough player for ANY of it. Basically feeling shut out because while I was better than newbie players so the system decided I needed a harder level, the system would match me with a killer who rocked our shit within like 10 min. It was a nightmare and made me lose my love for the game.

It was even worse with killer. I liked to main Freddy and played as other killers when the dailys wanted me to and it was a fun experience, I would usually at the very least get one survivor. Nope. Now it didn’t matter how many rounds I played as killer with the long ass queues to entry, I would essentially wait sometimes up to 10-20 min just to lose in 5 min. And the survivors were NASTY like I never matched with these sorts of people on my own but they would bully you, like I assume these were play with friends people because they were always super coordinated and would huddle around me and use flashlights and tea bag me any time I tried to even hook someone.

Which kind of leads into the fact that while I mostly play games alone, most multiplayer games are way more fun with other people and unfortunately I don’t have a dedicated group of people to play with. I did at one point but everyone had their own lives and their own things which is understandable. The most I know is like one or two people but because at the time (again it might have changed) the system is so fucked that unless you’re able to talk to your partners which you can only do in play with friends you’re kind of fucked.

So yeah I could give less of a shit about the “fanbase” because most casual players doing the toxic gameplay aren’t the people creating the fan content. I used to buy every DLC when it came into the store and I bought a few battle passes or whatever the fuck dbd calls them lol But it just felt like such a punch in the face after buying and supporting the game so much when the bugs, glitches, toxic players, and just all around fact that the game constantly broke with every new update (I played for a while after Pinhead released and I still hadn’t played against him ONCE when usually every time a new killer came out a ton of people would be trying them out but again the new matchmaking basically deters you from trying anything new cause unless u go in with your a game you’re getting fucked over before u can even try anything) it just made me lose interest entirely. Which sucks cause for a while it was my go to game. Now I’m just back to my solo games cause I’m shit at any sort of pvp set up until overwatch 2 comes out cause that’s the only game my irl friends want to play. Sighhhhhh.

Maybe I will try again soon cause even though I’ve just written out a novel of my grievances because I still really liked the game and I want to play it again. I keep seeing new killers and characters being added and being like oh they look so cool it sucks that the game is such shit. Like I hope this post doesn’t come across as being butthurt because I sucked and stopped winning, but when every single game you lose with no hope in sight because you keep getting matched with people beyond your skill level, it really does ruin your enjoyment for the game.

#asks #anon #long post

[pinervina]

Heavy metal machines xbox

Heavy metal machines xbox drivers#

Heavy metal machines xbox full#

Heavy metal machines xbox Pc#

Heavy metal machines xbox tv#

Heavy metal machines xbox drivers#

That said, the game does offer up some free drivers at the start, as well as a rotation system to keep some aspects of choice a bit more freeing than what other free-to-play games usually corner you into. Having access to each character felt far more natural, and honestly, I don’t know if I would enjoy the game as much being so restricted in my choices. Some have become fast favorites, whilst others, such as the support class, simply didn’t do it for me.

Heavy metal machines xbox full#

This made me wonder how many players are actually investing their time, and money, into the game and whether or not a few months down the road if it’ll still see enough players to flesh out consistently full lobbies.Įvery once in a while, I’m treated to codes or promotional goods for games like this, and yes, my review is based on such an unlock code unlocking each and every racer for me to get my hands on. However I’ll also stress that games like this live and die by the support of its community, and with no bots to flesh out partially filled lobbies, matchmaking, even with cross-play switched on, took an average of about 3-4 minutes per game in most cases. From the get-go, even with many cars being unlocked for new users, there is enough here to get you started, to give you a taste of what to expect when putting down some actual money to unlock a car that sings a bit more true to what you want from your mobile enforcer. The Battle Pass, which contributes to many of the game’s unlocks is, at the time of this review, free as well.

Heavy metal machines xbox Pc#

The game is free-to-play, and console users can now finally play the game that has been on PC for the last two years even going as far as offering a good chunk of unlockable cars and items for free. ‪‪Hoplon Infotainment‬‬’s efforts here with Heavy Metal Machines is certainly at least worth the download. When the game isn’t however, it can feel frustrating, bland, and unimpressive.

Heavy metal machines xbox tv#

When Heavy Metal Machines is firing on all cylinders, the game is electric, fast-paced, and will have you screaming at your TV when your shot has been intercepted at the last possible moment. Being free-to-play, you’ll have to work around the confines of that model to find a car that works for you, as each car varies in its purpose and function. Rest assured that there is no way to buy in-game items that give vehicles gameplay advantages.Heavy Metal Machines certainly invokes many car combat games of the past, albeit in a MOBA-like format that in many ways, serves as a basis for the game’s overall enjoyment. Meet new players in the game or bring your friends for way more fun! If you feel competitive, you can participate in Community Tournaments, or even the Metal League, Heavy Metal Machines' Official Tournament, that features cash-prizes to fuel the game's Esports scene. If you are new to HMM, no worries! Training modes are available to sharpen your skills. You can play HMM casually, or if you want to spice things up, join the Ranked Mode to be godlike, or create your Team and bring it to the Colosseum, an in-game Tournament, to battle for prizes and prestige. Ranging from a car crushing Monster Truck and a heavy armored Tank to a blade thrower Motorcycle and a magnetic Tow Truck, each of the many vehicles has a different set of weapons and gameplay styles that bring a wide range of strategic possibilities to each match. HMM's combination of unique vehicles, fast-paced combat, and post-apocalyptic sports arenas will take you to a whole new gameplay experience. Heavy Metal Machines is a one of a kind Free-to-Play Multiplayer Vehicular Combat game where players engage in 4v4 intense battles, controlling lethal vehicles in post-apocalyptic arenas.

#Heavy metal machines xbox

[hurdlehoops]

SPN did Market Research for Dean & Cas

Disclaimer: Yes this is a sock for safety reasons. Post is long, but please read it.

No shit there I was checking my email, as you do, and I saw I had a screener from one of the market research groups I’m signed up with.  On average, I do a market research thing every 3-4 months because I like non-reportable money. And giving my opinions. And talking to people behind 2 way mirrors without having to go to a police station.   

Market research itself was early December, 2016. First email contact with the screener was late October or early November. 

I see it’s an “offsite,” meaning a market research company is subcontracted by another company who wants to do the market research at their own facility, but doesn't want to find the participants on their own, so they use the Market research company (in this case Schlesinger and Associates) as an intermediary. I can’t remember if this screener identified itself as being for TV, not all do, some might identify only as entertainment, and some might be even more vague until you get into the screener. Regardless of the identification for the screener (TV or entertainment), I fill out almost every screener I receive unless it’s obvious, from the subject, they won’t want me (ie looking for certain types of professionals)- it didn’t matter, then, if the subject matter was something I particularly like, I would’ve filled it out anyway.  

After normal, but more detailed than usual demographics questions, the screener asked about TV habits. Eventually,  it said the word “fandom” and asked what TV fandoms I’d count myself in.  It was roughly a list of 20 shows and listed “fandom” (defined as I watch every episode and read additional materials about the show. Note this is not what fandom itself would consider fandom, but people most fandom dwellers would still count as GA).  Beyond fandom, one could indicate they: watch all episodes but don’t seek out more,  watch most episodes, have seen some episodes, watched a few, or haven’t watched.  (I just got a screener for soap operas and realized that part was the same and made note). Therefore, fandom, to corporate, are people who watch everything and maybe buy some swag for the show- magazines/shirts. Then, they asked about conventions I might have attended.  And then asked about my dream vacation, so I babbled a lot about my dream to go to SDCC (I hadn’t at this point). Supernatural was on the list of shows, so I made sure I answered the essay questions about it, because why not? It was my favorite of what was listed.  It was a long screener. I don’t remember the rest. Though sometimes I might remember a detail if a screener reminds me of it. Most fun screener I’ve filled out.

A few days/weeks later, I got a call for step 2- the phone screener for the people that sounded good when filling out the form. And where they try and make sure your answers match or fit that same person who answered them. I passed step 2, and was told there would be homework, and asked ifI’d have time for it, since I would only have so many days to watch the assigned material and write essays about them. 

Homework arrives: I have to watch and write essays on all the bonus features of Supernatural S10. There might’ve been something in there from another year, too. And all the bonus features from some season of  Big Bang Theory.  Essays for all of it, too.  And I mean essays, not short answers.  It was like the SATs, and I was analyzing blooper reels (among other things).  I still don’t get why they wanted essay questions on blooper reels, but I’ll always happily write one again cause that was the funniest essay to have to write! 

I had to both print and bring and email all my answers ahead of time.  I did not keep them.  I’m honestly curious what I might’ve written.  

So in December, I get to go to WB’s market research department. Fun fact: the entrance to that building faces what had recently been the Supernatural poster. I check in. At this point I think it’s a group. Because most market research is done in groups. Also they said I was there for the “DVD bonus features study” 

I wait in the lobby, but I’m surprised there seem to be very few others around. I don’t think I got there too early, but all the others were taken back before me. And they didn’t seem to be there for the same study.  Oh and I wore business casual clothes but had some show-based earrings for fun.  

Finally a nice lady brings me back to a room. She turns off the lights and gives me a fancy remote and has me play with a new system for watching bonus features. I had to start with BBT. Then we did something else. Then I was allowed to scroll through and I picked Supernatural, and answered all the things.  By this point I figured I would be released soonish   because I was supposed to be there only for an hour. And this was at least half an hour at the most. No clock, though and cell phone off.  Maybe this part went faster than I remember, but it was less interesting so it felt longer? Or less interesting compared to what came next. 

We switch gears. I’m no longer allowed to pick what we watch and talk about my thoughts on if SDCC panels belong in bonus features.  (Me: should have a preorder and you get to watch it when the season airs with DVD to arrive when season ends. Silly to watch it after the season when it’s mostly vague spoilers for the first episode or so). Obviously WB doesn’t listen to me about everything.

Oh! In the screener as part of normal demographics, I was asked about my sexuality. It isn’t completely rare (I can talk about another market research where you had to be queer to be part of it), but there were some short answers about representation or something similar. Something that is significant *now,* but at the time I didn’t notice as being too weird.  Since they probably had me listed to the people behind the mirror as X (if they even got my name) Y resident, bisexual, age.  I very specifically said stuff to her about representation cause I wasn’t gonna miss my shot.

Anyway so we switch from dvd extras and she queues up video from another file.

She puts a scene of Supernatural on and has me watch. Then repeats it. And asks questions about my opinions on what’s happening.  Then has me watch and only pay attention to Character D and tell her what I think his emotions are.  Then again but with Character C.  

Complete torture… lol… at this point I’m confused, but enjoying this torture.

So there I am watching the Crypt scene over and over and analyzing it.  And talking about their feelings.  

And then I stop her and say something to the effect of “look I’m bi. There’s not a lot of good representation on what being bi is like.  But from episode 1 I’ve known Dean is Bi.”    And I babbled about how important a macho badass but closeted character is for representation. And that I hoped they did more with that.  I included some anecdotes from other lgbtq friends and straight allies and how they all felt as I did- Dean is Bi, Cas is whatever he wants to identify as, and we felt we recognized our experiences on the screen and hoped for continued and louder representation. 

Bam. My interviewer was called out of the room by the people behind the mirror. Suddenly I’m getting a whole new set of questions

Like this is the most baffling and amazing thing that's happened to me in years. It imprinted in my mind, and I haven’t mentioned it to too many people, because of the NDA and being afraid to jinx things. But now I don’t feel like it matters to be as quiet. Obviously I don’t want WB to go after me but... market research isn’t unusual, just mostly used for spin-offs or new shows not for plot points of shows already happening. At least, that’s my understanding. 

The interviewer  comes back after a short discussion with whoever was behind the glass. Asks a few more questions

We’re now very much going into various things about what I’d just said. I took my shot. And apparently it paid off big time.  At some point she’s pulled out of the room again and given a paper with more questions. Some were about Dean’s bisexuality, or how I, and anecdotally my friends, saw him as bisexual.  Others were about the potential romance. None, that I remember, were about Castiel’s sexuality- I guess that was a given or not important. 

I don’t know if any of the writers were behind the glass from the beginning, but I felt like they stalled to get someone there, maybe.

The interviewer was baffled and made sure I knew nothing that was happening was normal.  They wanted to ask me more questions than they usually care to get out of their market research volunteers. 

So those are the most important parts. Basically almost everything I was asked after that was about character analysis and queerness and a whole bunch of other things that were related (I also mentioned needing more disability rep, too).  I was back there for at least 2 hours.

#supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #castiel #dean winchester #misha collins #jensen ackles

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 6

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor gets his new assignment. He's not thrilled.

AO3

Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

Chapter 5 art by @semains​ (18+ only)

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 09:56AM

There was a time when Connor didn’t have to come in on Saturdays. He remembered the days when mandatory overtime was few and far between.

Not anymore. 2038 seemed to be the year shit just kept happening, and now that he thought about it, quite a few of it seemed to be because of androids. Ones gone missing. Disobeying orders. And now, homicidal.

Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose after putting his car into park, regretting how enthusiastically he’d hit the bottle last night. It wasn’t too bad this time, just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but it made it more difficult to see and he’d had to squint through his windshield.

Whatever. The reason for his shame-drinking was no longer relevant. Connor just had to survive until lunchtime, and if he were lucky, Hank would let him go early. He tried not to itch at the butterfly bandages on his cheek, applied himself after he’d woken up in a haze with blood on his pillow having completely forgotten the injury existed.

Connor kept his head down as he walked through the lobby of the station and through the security checkpoint to the bullpen proper. He tried not to be completely antisocial, however, and sent weak smiles at the coworkers who bothered to notice he was there.

Helen, Alexander, and Rupert all acknowledged him with various degrees of warmth, some colder than others, and all pretty much deserved. Ralph gave Connor a nervous smile from his chair, though it quickly faded as his eyes flickered to something across the room.

Frowning, he followed Ralph’s eye line across the bullpen and scowled when he spotted Colin leaning casually against Connor’s desk, talking to… someone. He couldn’t see who, Colin’s figure blocking them from view.

Against his better judgement, Connor drew closer, pressure building at the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling of dread that increased with each step.

“Con’s just gonna love this. But seriously, if he bitches about it too much, or gives you a hard time, you can always partner up with me. I won’t mind one bit, promise.”

Connor would have rolled his eyes at his brother’s typical cocksure demeanor, but instead, he went stock still at the familiar voice that answered.

“While the offer is appreciated, Lieutenant, my instructions stipulate that I must assist Detective Anderson with his new, specialized caseload. I’m sure you can understand that CyberLife only wishes to cooperate with the DPD and does not want to interfere with police procedure—“

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The YN800 model blinked and turned its head to meet Connor’s eye, its little blue light blinking for a moment before solidifying again.

It was sitting in Connor’s chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Detective,” it answered, chipper as ever as a fake smile graced its features.

Connor looked the prototype over, his nose crinkling at its appearance. The suit must have been brand new, there were no stains or bullet holes, and her—its hair was once again pinned upwards into a perfect knot.

He felt his insides churn at the near slip, at thinking for even a split second that this thing was a person. Shoving down the crude thoughts of the night before, Connor gave the order through gritted teeth.

“Get. Up.”

The prototype did as it was told, for once. It rose out of his chair, not even having the decency to look chagrined as it straightened its jacket of nonexistent wrinkles.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I tried to call your phone and left you a message. It was not my intention to surprise you—“

“Oh, no, it’s never your intention to do anything, is it?” Connor snarled back. His headache was in full force now, and he swore he could see the bright lights of the station brighten in time with his heartbeat.

“Aw, c’mon!” Colin slapped him on the shoulder. “Be nice to the temp.”

“Temp?” Connor answered, voice pulled as taut as a wire.

“Yeah, you know. The temporary assistant. The new girl. The—“

He shoved Colin’s hand off his shoulder, leveling a glare at both of them. Colin merely shot him a shit-eating grin while the YN800 stood there, hands clasped behind its back at parade rest, polite and perfect as ever.

“Connor!”

All three of them turned toward the voice booming across the room.

“Get in here!”

Connor glared at the android, as if Hank’s shouting were its fault, which was probably the case.

He turned without a word and stalked to the captain’s office, shoulders hunched as his heart raced and his hands shook at his sides. He let the glass door fall shut behind him, but when he didn’t hear the whoosh of it close, he glanced over his shoulder to see the YN800 had followed him inside.

Great.

Connor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed.

Hank sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at the chairs in front of his desk. Connor remained standing.

The older man glared, answering Connor’s attitude with a look and a heavy sigh.

“Bet you’re wondering what that’s about.” Hank jerked his chin over Connor’s shoulder. The prototype had taken a spot at the back of the office, observing politely with its hands clasped in front of its hips.

“Yeah, I am.” Connor was a little too cranky this morning to try a more diplomatic approach. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“I’ll get to that. First on the docket, I got a shit ton of android-related cases filling up our database every day and I’m at wit’s end.” Hank took a deep breath, bracing himself as he met Connor’s eye. “Which is why I’m assigning all of these cases to you.”

“You’re what?”

Connor stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You think that case last night was a one-off? We’ve got more android-related crimes rolling in, including assaults and homicides just as bad as the Ortiz case, and right now, you’re the one with the most experience.” Hank leaned his elbows on his desk as he leveled a formidable glare his way. “Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

 “Yeah, it is a problem, Hank! Why the hell do I have to do this? What about Colin? He was with me at the crime scene and was there for the interrogation!” Connor shoved a finger at the glass wall to prove his point.

Hank’s jaw tightened. Connor had seen that behavior enough times to recognize how he was pushing his luck.

“CyberLife asked for you specifically.”

“What?” Connor blinked, dumbfounded once again, racking his brain but coming up empty. “Why?”

“The hell if I know!” Hank barked back, rising to his feet as he pointed a finger at Connor, “and frankly, I don’t give a damn. Colin’s got enough on his plate—“

“—and I don’t?” Connor interrupted, scowling. Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Connor almost felt guilty for his outburst.

Almost.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you implied.” He tried not to sound like a hurt child, but, well, that’s exactly what he sounded like.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor! There are more people that are gonna start dying from this!”

“Yeah, I know, but—“

Hank lifted his hand, palm forward, effectively shutting Connor up.

“You saw what one of those deviants was capable of last night, and that was with three of you and another android trying to get it under control! You think the average person stands a chance against one of these fucks? That a little ol’ grandma can defend herself against the murderous robot gardener coming at her with a pair of shears? What the hell happens when a nanny bot decides to take a human kid for itself? Oh, wait, that’s already happened, and you would know that if you checked the goddamn case files I sent you!”

Connor was silent as Hank deflated. The older man leaned back against his desk as he looked through his glass wall out over the bullpen. His voice was rough but much quieter for the next round.

“We’re totally in the dark, Connor. We don’t know how bad this is gonna get and how many androids we’re dealing with. This has the potential to turn into a fucking nightmare with Detroit as ground zero.” Hank’s gaze drifted over Connor’s shoulder to the elephant, or the machine, in the room. “CyberLife was gracious enough to send us a state-of-the-art prototype until this issue is contained. It’s gonna be your partner until such a time that these androids are no longer a threat, and then you’re free to go back to being a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch as much as you like.”

Connor was thoroughly shamed by the end of Hank’s speech, that old familiar feeling of disappointment making his gut roil with nausea, but his anger hadn’t entirely flagged. He clenched his hands tightly to his thighs, fingers desperate for either his coin or his cigarettes.

Connor hadn’t felt the need for one in months. This was bad.

“Hank,” he tried again, his voice soft and pleading in that way he knew Hank couldn’t ignore. “I’m not saying this just to be a pain in your ass. I understand the stakes, but I genuinely believe I’m not qualified for these types of cases. I’m not a CyberLife technician, or an AI specialist, or a computer engineer. I’ve never even owned an android.”

That last one was technically true but only in the barest sense, and Hank gave him a knowing look. It wasn’t without sympathy, and his own answer was given with more kindness than he probably deserved.

“I know, Connor. I also know you’re the sharpest pair of eyes on the force, not to mention the quickest brain and the best instinct. You see shit other people don’t, even Colin, and you’ve got this creepy knack for taking one look at a person and knowing what makes ‘em tick. I’d say you’re almost like an android yourself, but I know how much that’d piss you off.”

Connor gave him another narrow-eyed scowl, and Hank immediately put up his hands as a sign of surrender even as a smirk played on his lips.

“My point is, I need you on this, son. I know it’s not ideal, hell, it downright sucks, but I know you can do this. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

And there it was. As effective as Connor’s pleading expressions could be, they were nothing in comparison to his need for Hank’s praise. The old geezer knew it, too.

And throwing a “son” into the mix was a goddamn dirty move, but Connor couldn’t even muster up annoyance. He just sighed, gave Hank the smallest hint of a smile, and said, “All right. But only until these cases are solved. Once the deviancy issue is addressed, the prototype is going back to CyberLife and you never give me an android case again.”

“I’ll pay for the postage to ship it back myself,” Hank said, smile wide and pleased as he patted Connor on the shoulder before returning to his desk. “And I want daily reports on the progress you and your new partner are making. Gotta make sure CyberLife’s best is pulling its weight.”

“I can assure you, Captain Anderson, I am worth every penny. And considering it took a small fortune to build me, I—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank interrupted the prototype, using that catchphrase that Connor and all of his brothers had picked up years ago. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The android blinked almost comically before giving a slow nod. It then turned to face Connor, straightening its back at attention, and he rolled his eyes. He was still being handed the shit end of the stick, but he couldn’t deny that the cases were piling up and Hank really did need the extra help.

But why, out of all the androids in the world, did it have to be one like that.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Connor turned and left Hank’s office, not waiting to see if the android would follow, knowing with a sinking feeling, it would.

Next Chapter

#connor x reader #human!connor x reader #human!connor x android!reader #connor x android!reader #inside your wires #my fanfiction #my writing

[grandinventor]

At the risk of sounding like a Jindosh apologist here (I am.) I will preface that Jindosh is a bad guy, he has either killed people personally or got them killed for experiment purposes by his Clockworks and has dissected the dead so he is not good, he is a villain, I acknowledge that.

Now with that out of the way I wanna criticize the narrative surrounding him and his mansion and how it sometimes falls flat on it’s face trying to demonize them thanks to a lot of points my friend @divaythfyr​ brought up. I’ll put all of that below the cut:

Yesterday I was told this line and I won’t lie it is...bad. Line in question: 

Billie: "His home is supposed to be full of marvels. Locals go in as a test of courage, or because they're desperate for a meal. Kids, even. People say you can hear them at night, pounding on the windows, calling for help."

But because I couldn’t live with the idea that he kills children you know the simplest villain demonization tactic in writing history (kick the puppy, kick the child whatever) and I think it’s pretty cheap to try and make him worse than Sokolov, I talked to the Jindosh apologist committee and thot about it so I’ll go over this line by line. 

1. "His home is supposed to be full of marvels.“ - Okay but isn’t his home also supposed to be scary? Isn’t the whole “Why would anyone build a scary mansion like this?” line from Emily/Corvo as they enter supposed to tell us that this is a scary place? Which is funny because in reality the mansion itself isn’t scary at all, in fact it’s extremely logical in the way it unfolds and exposes the rooms. It’s perfectly functional and as someone with a major in architecture, I can say it’s the best designed house in terms of organization in the game. There is no way to die in the mansion unless the Clockwork Soldiers and the guards get you - which goes for literally any important/rich person’s house? You walk in someone’s house uninvited and their guards get you. You can die if you get behind the walls but it’s extremely difficult to do so especially in the places where you can get squished. The house itself is completely harmless. So the whole idea from Jindosh’s end that it’s a maze is stupid on it’s own too, the house is perfectly logical and Stilton’s manor is an actual maze because I got lost 10 times in there. 

2. “Locals go in as a test of courage, or because they're desperate for a meal.“ - okay first part is correct people go in his house to either steal, test their skills or kill him. He says as much himself. He says fabled thieves and assassins died there. Again probably from his guards and Clockworks since you can’t die from the house in any rational way. And then he dragged them half dead or dead in his lab to dissect them. He has a fascination with watching people die because he is like evil and a villain like that. Which brings me to the next point which is:

There are only two ways to get in his mansion without powers. There is the bridge below which is broken and the railway which is guarded and has a Wall of Light on the other end. So how will anyone that is not prepared with a grappling hook or some kind of way to close this gap gonna get in? How is your random average person gonna go in? And most importantly why? Do people just walk in aristocrat’s houses and expect not to get out in a body bag or? 

Besides he has a) a lot of free food and drinks in the lobby which is his threshold as to how far you are allowed to go so if someone wanted food they can just walk in and take it and leave (after you know, scaling a mountain for whatever reason because there aren’t easier houses to steal from) and b) he has an audiograph, because I am sure he assumes people can’t read, which tells you “Do not enter or you will die and I will dissect your remains and this is a promise.” Like why add a warning if you wanna lure people in? Unless those people think they can outsmart him so they come with intent and not just because they need food/shelter. Also he has food right next to that audio. 

3. “Kids, even.“ - okay this one, the scary line. I won’t lie this made me uncomfortable. So like if we assume that normal people can enter by normal means (which in point 2 is clear they can’t unless further elaborated by the game on How? and Why?), a child going in as a dare and dying is possible. Billie after this line goes on to say that she saw a child dare his brother to touch the wall of light which vaporized the child, so the implication is possible. It’s possible a child went in his mansion as a dare and bad things unfolded. It’s also equally possible that it didn’t. We know of adult men dying because we see the bodies. For this one is just a rumor. You can take it either way depending on how you feel about Jindosh. It’s very unlikely a child would get this far though, unless this was some kind of Disney movie. Also Jindosh wouldn’t personally have a reason to kill a child you know, like I know it’s the easiest “this villain is super evil!!!!” writing tactic, but he had a pretty shitty childhood, he felt hated by his mother and probably wasn’t treated so nicely by his (bastard) brother. He likes to exercise his lack of control during his younger years by having control over other people through his house and toying with them. He is very childish in a sense too (with his toy house and toy soldiers), and because of all of this I truly don’t think he would kill a child. He wants a real challenge and to test out his machines and his house against the best and smartest Karnaca can offer, not children. Though my opinion here can be highly biased. 

Also many children can casually pull 6ft tall levers I’m sure--

4.  “People say you can hear them at night, pounding on the windows, calling for help." - we know people have died in the mansion and they have been crying for release, as he says so himself. But again the above points kind of challenge as to who these people that died inside were. However because you know I’ve been playing with his mansion for four years cause I am a dumb hoe, I can say that there are very little windows. In fact the majority of windows that aren’t blocked off by the cliff or the mechanisms are around his laboratory.

 Now yes people could go there and bang on them sure. But they literally...face the lab and chances are no one is gonna hear you bang on that side. The other windows not facing the lab are in the foyer where...you are allowed to be and nothing is gonna happen to you. 

And the windows that actually face a side where let’s say someone could hear if someone was banging are the windows on the front of the house. Only the thing is, there are no windows on the front of the house except in the foyer. 

Here are the buildings from across his mansion which I guess can maybe hear if someone was banging on the windows. But again no windows on the front of the house. 

The fake windows is where the mechanism for the ceiling over the gallery in the upper hall is. The one that kinda extends and unfolds from there. So isn’t entirely possible that the banging and screaming or whatever people heard is just...the mechanisms of his house? The scary evil child killing house? Which is actually moving and making a lot of noise at all times?

So in conclusion? Yes, Jindosh is bad, he has no regard to human life, he divides society as innocent bystanders and criminals. He does dream of an army of Clockwork Soldiers to eradicate all crime. Be, he isn’t a senseless killer, it’s his neutrality and fascination with death as well as his black and white thinking that makes him dangerous. He doesn’t see people as human. In the majority of cases we know of (except one for some reason? That cursed baker who got his brain fried why did you have to do that Jindosh!?) he experiments on people who he deems criminals without sympathy. Also in situations where he thinks it’s justified - breaking in to steal from him or hurt him, the Blade Verbena, prisoners that can actually provide a learning experience for his Clockworks and Sokolov. He doesn’t go kidnapping people off the streets to experiment on them. 

And despite his evilness being completely logical, the whole game tries to paint his mansion as this big puzzle and trap when in reality it’s...really just a house. The level design is beautiful and amazing but I think it doesn’t really carry the point as strongly simply because it’s not any more dangerous than any other mission and it’s just more fun when it comes to gameplay. The design is great but it never gave me the feeling of it being a horror house. So I think that demonizing Jindosh through hearsay instead of through his actual mission is a bit of a weird choice. A lot of things don’t reflect how evil he is, but not in the good way of “The Grand Inventor doesn’t seem evil but he is.” and instead you get it hammered how evil he is from the start without actually ever experiencing a climax of his evilness you wouldn’t expect. It’s not that every story should have a twist, but usually when you say someone is evil, you either make them good at the end or even more evil. Jindosh never has that climax, he is the same start to finish and that is... mildly annoying and slightly threatening. Like his level is pretty but not scary and they keep trying to convince you it’s scary which makes it weird which I guess is because if you listen to a lot of his unused lines and old concept art, he was supposed to be this stereotypical mad scientist but in the end they changed his visual design and lines so much he comes off as lukewarm. I understand what they tried to do with Jindosh but I feel like they failed to do it and had to rely on everyone saying he is super irredeemably evil to justify lobotomizing him.

Anyway this post is too long, sorry if the read more doesn’t go through somewhere and please feel free to counter my points I am open to different and non biased views (or even information I might not know because I haven’t read the books or found everything). 

#kirin jindosh #me putting this with full confidence in the tag #i hope i dont wake up to anything bad

[sandwyrm]

   I always rant tons about things I hate in fiction and I scream tons in private about loving Elijah Kamski and disliking that many people Just Don’t Get Him(tm) so why not combine the two.

   Like pretty much everyone playing this damn game, my initial opinion on him was “god I wish I could punch him in the face”, but having seen most other paths, and having connected some dots, added to Neil Newbon’s stellar acting as the dude, he’s easily become one of my favorite characters not only in DBH but in general in fiction.

   So this is going to be “Why This One Smug Motherfucker With An Attitude You’d Love To Beat Up With A Bat Became One of My Top Favorite Characters, The Essay”

TL;DR: Elijah Kamski planned the android revolution and deviancy

   First off, let’s start by analyzing the most obvious thing: his speech and mannerism, his appearance, all play along a very common and clear trope, one that Disney especially is super fond of using:  

   It’s not just Disney that does this, there’s many other villains who follow the rule, and have been since the dawn of time. And there are many essays and articles on why a smallish physically weak man with aquiline features, calculated speech, and effeminate mannerisms, is such a recurring Look for villains, so we won’t cover that. But it’s very well used on Kamski, perhaps better than any other place I’ve seen, because in him, it is something the character has calculated for himself.     For once, we get to SEE what the Questionably Queer Villain STARTED as:

   A goddamn nerd. Just your average neighbour. Steve down in IT who comes fix your computer and spergs a little about how COOL computers are, mansplains a little about stuff you already tried because he thinks you’re so much dumber than him, sips an energy drink, and walks away leaving your computer fixed and you with a million emails you still need to answer and a questionable urge to punch him that you’ll never act upon. His mannerism isn’t there. That cadence to his voice isn’t there. He has much more genuine expressions. It is my personal opinion the actor fucking smashed this, and it’s safe to say it is an in-character change: Elijah Kamski was a damn nerd and for whatever reason turned into the Questionably Queer Villain Archetype. Ego gone to his head? Defense mechanism, to survive the sharks of capitalism? Who knows what happened in those 10 years. Who knows how much nerdier he was even longer ago? He has a PR smile going on in that interview but it’s a lot less perfected and rehearsed than the one in 2038. I honestly think it’s a very minor and yet very very stellar detail.    Ah! But this is an Extra Feature, most people wouldn’t have seen Past Kamski when they see Present (Future?) Kamski. It’s not the game’s trailer (not unless you’re brave enough to send it to your friends who aren’t into the game yet), it’s a little thing you can watch after you’ve already finished the game.     The Kamski you meet at first is this fucker

   The fucker who hangs a portrait of himself in his lobby while making you wait on him 5 minutes. The fucker who still swims three more minutes after you’ve been invited in. The fucker who just dodges every single question, and speaks to you condescendingly. The fucker who dismisses your concerns like it’s the funniest thing to him that robots are about to take over.

   The narcissist that goes all “pff Turing test is ezmode, I’m gonna make a harder test named after me which I wanna see if my robots pass.”

   And because this glib bitch is what the writers intended you to experiment at first, and this is the Kamski most everyone sees while other sides are extras or brief dialogue lines, this is where most people remain with their perception of Kamski. Just another Scar. Just another Jafar. A manipulative little bitch you wish the big buff Hero would punch in the end.    But there’s so much more to him.

The obvious: Elijah Kamski is a transhumanist.

   To sum it up: Transhumanist is what Steve from IT probably is. If you were to ask him about it, he would mansplain to you how humans are limited by flesh and poverty, and how making technology widely available and the internet free and pushing for technological advancements such as robotics is what would improve humanity. He probably has a whole wall covered in books about AI revolution and singularity, and probably believes robots are the next step in human evolution. That is, robots/cyborgs are to replace humans, and for us to leave our flawed shells behind.     Elijah Kamski is such a man, too, and barely hides it. Choice quotes: - “We had to design a machine that moves, breathes, and blinks like us. But yet is smarter and more capable than any human being.” (interview extra) - “Tomorrow they’ll replace our soldiers, and who knows, maybe one day, our leaders, to make the best decisions in humanity’s interest.” (interview extra) - “Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.” (Meet Kamski) - “Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable.” (Meet Kamski) - contrast to the PR lie in the interview of “They’re machines, they cannot ever develop a conscience. Trust me.” 

   It’s clear that he thinks robots/androids would do a better job at society than humans - a lot of nerds do (just ask around, I fucking do, 7 months into 2020), and he’s not even hiding it all that clever. 

 Or maybe he just wants to fuck some robots?

   A lot of people get rapist vibes from Kamski. The creep who just made himself a bunch of sex toys because he could, and there’s nothing else to the androids as far as he’s concerned. And it’s easy to see. Like,

 super easy to see

  he’s basically eyefucking the androids

   But here’s the catch:    See, we’re so conditioned by that stereotype I started this essay with that we, and I mean myself as well, easily buy the “he just wanted some hot sex slaves” theory. Scar wants hot sex slaves. Jafar wants hot sex slaves. Frollo wants hot sex slaves. The list goes to infinity. Every time a male is acting this effeminate-flirty way on screen, it’s used to indicate he is a Deranged Pervert. I’m not gonna say where it stems from homophobia and how stupid it is very because smarter people have analyzed this phenomenon, but the bottom line is, we’re projecting something onto Kamski that isn’t there, simply because it’s everywhere else with similar characters. He designed the androids, he’s ogling the androids, and while I have no doubt he’d personally fuck each and every one of his androids, here’s the thing: He only ever touches his one Chloe in a sexual way.    There’s strippers in this game. There’s sex in this game. If they wanted Kamski to obviously be a creep, it would’ve been there. Touching those naked androids in the factory. Groping one of the twin Chloes in the pool. Touching Connor in any other way than putting a gun in his hand

   He’s not very sensual in this moment, now, is he? It’s a very casual touch, he’s there simply helping a robot aim a gun. Because as far as he knows and thinks, Connor is following his programming - explicitly forbidding him to hold guns.    And yet...

Elijah Kamski wants Connor to deviate.

   Maybe this one is obvious. Maybe it’s not.    If reading forums and reddit has taught me anything, is that people think Kamski is just trying to see if Connor is a mean deviant with these questions. Far as we know up to this point, deviants are Bad. Far as many hot takes I’ve seen, deviants are always Bad because robots don’t have feelings lol way to miss the point of the game jesus christ anyway    He isn’t putting pressure on Connor because he’s a jackass - he’s putting pressure on Connor because he knows pressure makes androids deviate.    He keeps asking trick questions - what do YOU want. What do YOU think. Time to think WHO you are.

The Kamski Test

     On the objective surface, it simply looks like Kamski is here running the Kamski test for his own pride - has he created a machine capable of sparing another machine? Dumb test, you could just program that in, couldn’t you?    Yes and no.     You could program a machine to never shoot a human or another machine - easily. And you can program a machine to prioritize solving a case, to aid the police. Empathy and critical thought are not easy things. A lot of humans would fail this test. Put a gun in someone’s hand and tell them they can shoot another human and solve all their problems, and they would do it. They fucking do it every day, over lesser things.    But that’s not the real purpose of the Kamski test, is it?     He could easily have programmed this in for a carnival trick, like he programmed writer androids, fortuneteller androids, medic androids, and everything else. The test isn’t “can Connor shoot Chloe or does he see her as alive?”    The test is, “Can Connor put Chloe’s ‘life’ above his programming and specific instructions?” The test is, can Connor’s algorithms decide Chloe’s ‘life’ is more important than his own?    Kamski knows it - Connor knows it - we know it. If Connor fails his missions, if Connor behaves too much like a human, he will be deactivated and repurposed. He’s constantly threatened by Amanda with “deviants are bad and must be destroyed.” He knows he needs to be a Good Robot and obey.    Connor’s choice isn’t “Spare Chloe or kill Chloe.” His choice is “prioritize the life of another being over his own.”

Connor Deviates

       boy u got issues that i can’t help with, godspeed you glorious idiot

But what if... he doesn’t

   Let’s check this path out for a moment.

   He’s quite... meh. He’s bored. He’s indifferent. He loses the little spark in his voice that little peppy jackass act. The rest of this encounter becomes just another boring PR stunt where Elijah Kamski acts nicely and answers questions by giving no fucking answers at all.

a ViRuS

   Mandatory Covid19 joke    We find out deviancy is probably a virus that spreads from one android to the other. You know, very useful information we’ve never found out by ourselves.    Except we also know that’s wrong, don’t we?    Markus spreads deviancy that way - but what about the first deviants? Can we backtrack to a patient zero? Not really. Many androids just deviated by themselves. Sure, they could’ve interacted with a deviant at some point I suppose, assuming...

rA9

   Ask him about rA9, and Kamski will say it’s just the first android that deviated. But that’s just a lie, isn’t it?    It can’t be the first android that deviated because most people and most androids believe rA9 is Markus - and we know Markus wasn’t the first to deviate. He was just the one to take on a leader role.    And Kamski knows of this - planned for this. He gave Markus to Carl Manfred, and he knew Carl Manfred was a damn hippie talking about revolutions and better worlds and must be filling Markus’ head with ideas of being more than he is. It was calculated.    So, either rA9 really is just a random religious thing androids rallied behind out of the blue, or Kamski is just lying. He probably is. He’s offering useless what ifs in answer to this question. Maybe it’s this. Maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s your mom and we need better jokes in 2020.

   And speaking of just lies, let’s be honest. Do you really think someone would be as dumb as to admit they started AI revolution, in front of cops? That’s why Kamski keeps playing the idiot, don’t forget. A lot of people seem to be taking his cluelessness at face value, as if they’ve never lied in person.    Kamski is openly dodging other questions, and offering half lies half truths here. That’s what I’m saying.    But even assuming Kamski doesn’t know about deviancy or rA9, for real, what about

Jericho

   When asked about Jericho, Kamski answers.    He knows what Jericho is - the place where all deviants go.    He has its location, conveniently.

Wait, Chloe?

   Interesting how the pool Chloes know they shouldn’t be peeping at the talk and we get shots of them hastily going back to their scripted chatting nonsense and trying to return to neutral expressions when “caught peeping” by the camera.    More interesting yet, whenever Hank or Connor are directly looking at any Chloe, they’re acting very stiff and robotic.    Which... every deviant does.    Including Connor.    Especially Connor.

Speaking of

   Even with Connor failing his test, Kamski insists.    Insists to remind him he still has a choice.    Insists to remind him of his escape clause (useless on this path but Kamski reminding him is there, and we’re talking about Kamski)    It’s almost as if...

Elijah Kamski wants Connor to deviate. Like, wants.

  One of the most powerful moments in the game as far as I’m concerned.   And not because Connor gets told by his creator that he’s a deviant.   Not because we’re told by his creator that he’s a deviant.   Not because Hank’s wheels start moving.   Because for that little exchange there, Connor shows genuine emotions. Connor’s LED is red. We’ve never seen a red LED Connor up to this point. iirc we don’t even after, I think the only other time is when the security guard android pulls his heart out. Getting shot leaves him on yellow. Dying leaves him on yellow. Processing complex things in 10 milliseconds leaves him on yellow if we’re that lucky, he’s usually on blue and about as unimpressed as y’all reading this essay.     Remember how I said the test is between his life and Chloe’s?    There’s no dramatic wall here. There’s no direct programming here to guide him along or that he needs to explicitly go against, like when he has to shoot Markus. This is a choice he had to make, by himself, entirely by himself, outside of bounds of his normal programming, using his own intelligence.    He has empathy, and intelligence. He is alive.

fAsCiNaTiNg~

  There is another thing that happens if Connor deviates, in that little exchange there, Elijah Kamski is no longer that glib, effeminate, Disney villain. For a brief moment, Elijah Kamski is back to being that nerd we’ve seen in the 2028 video. That nerd that is so hyped about what androids can become. He’s showing genuine joy. Genuine fascination. For a brief 30 seconds, he is no longer playing games. This is missing on the machine path altogether. Where he’s left indifferent there, he’s genuinely excited here, genuinely fAsCiNaTeD.

   Almost as if he’s happy, proud, that Connor could do it. Like watching your child take their first steps or say their first word.

   This isn’t JUST an android. This isn’t JUST another deviant. This is Cyberlife’s puppet. This android was specifically created never to deviate. And he still did. We, of course, as fine purveyors of fiction, saw it coming, but seeing it from Kamski’s perspective - it really is something he’s taken aback by. An android designed to HUNT other androids is going against his very tight programming. Of course, the both know it’s not over, but it’s a start. Indeed, like watching a child take their first step, there’s so many steps left, and there’s still the revolution.

   We never see Kamski again in the game, unless we get to the

Failed Revolution

   This is a Kamski we’ve yet to see. Not the hyped nerd in the android factory. Not the glib motherfucker dodging police questions. This is an annoyed man. A vindictive man. Sitting cross-legged in a chair. He’s that fucking villain we were always meant to see, isn’t he? Here, scheming, with his long face and Adidas tracksuit. But what’s he scheming against?

    “Wait, doesn’t this invalidate your whole fucking essay?” Nope.    Remember what I said about us being shown that Kamski was not born a glib liar and manipulator? That he learned that PR smile and smug way of speech? That he learned to be a Disney villain?    Do you really think he would just tell the press - the cops - that yes, he has totally planned for the android revolution?

   Of course he wouldn’t.    But looking under the surface - he does not return to Cyberlife when the deviancy is in full crisis. If he truly believed he should be there to stop the “error”, he’d have been there, not pushing Connor to deviate instead.     The “mistake” that he learned from is the FAILURE of the android revolution. He only ever returns to Cyberlife on this path where the androids fail to revolt. To “fix a mistake”.

   There’s one last clue in the shit puzzle,

Connor can show empathy from day 1

   Well we already know the “error” can be dormant a long time, no biggie, Connor just got Devid-38 from Daniel or something. Some other android. Maybe...    Unless...

Connor-60

   There’s one combination at the Cyberlife tower. Converting the androids, and getting Connor shot by Connor-60, which leads to the androids still converting with Connor-60, the machine, watching it.

   He reacts quite badly to failing, for a machine, doesn’t he?    Almost as if...

Deviancy is preprogrammed. And probably so is Jericho.

   Remember Chloe had the key?    Logically, why would she?    Chloe cooould be a deviant that somehow ended up back with Kamski after she found out about Jericho, and told him about it too.    Possible, but consider...:    Kamski programmed Jericho location in multiple androids, knowing they would “spread it like a virus”.    There was a little speech I’ll never find in a playthrough online, but in which it’s implied some androids just “knew” to head to Jericho “instinctively.” And one way to solve the puzzle in the police station is via instructions from Carlos Ortiz’s android. Who.... never left the fucking house.    Plus, Kamski accounted for Cyberlife controlling Connor. I mean... He says as much. He doesn’t even hide it.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Let’s look back at the 2028 interview

Getting a little nervous there aren’t we? We ain’t never seen him fiddle with his hands anywhere else than this one question. Not in this interview, not in any other scenes with him.

Son of a bitch has one hell of a PR smile doesn’t he

and if I haven’t convinced you with my essay they admitted in some Q/A that the Kamski ending was going to be more obviously him going back to restart the android revolution. But I found that only ages after I made the connections and fell in love with the fucker.

#dbh #detroit become human #elijah kamski #long post

[g0dspeeed]

Unconditional Positive Regard, 5

I’m thinking of not posting fic updates anymore on here, but I will be updating this Smasher/OC fic on ao3!

=========================================

Assessment

A faint whisper.

Soft.

Barely there.

The only noise in the Arasaka gym facility was its overhead air vent, but Adam felt absolutely annoyed by it all the same.

Silent and brooding, the mercenary stood in the middle of the gym mats with arms crossed and his red eyes staring heavily on the entrance. No doubt he was ready to lay into her, practically frothing for Lumen to feel how intensely pissed off he was at her lateness, at how she kept him waiting around like a fool.

Even before his days in the military, Adam was punctual. Or incredibly early. Had to be. As a hardened resident of NYC’s underworld, he could never predict what mob boss would lose his absolute shit over Adam’s ass being late, job fulfilled or not. Such a life seldom provided a second chance, and after watching many a comrade receive their due punishment for inconveniencing some trigger-hungry gang leader, Adam knew better than to press his luck. Though tucked back several decades into his past, the lessons learned in the streets of New York prepared him well in all their cruelty.

Other Arasaka staff wandered near the mats, completely oblivious to Adam until their eyes locked. Without a word, the staff members scurried out of sight.

A growl hummed past his lips. He checked the digital clock above the room for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. His jaw tightened.

Damn her.

Damn that fucking bitch and her bullshit contract.

Just as Adam was about to rip into her via holo, the rushed sounds of pattering feet echoed into the space. Lumen at last made her appearance, jogging through the entrance dressed in a grey tank top, black leggings, and tennis shoes. If anything, she looked prepared for Adam’s physical assessment.

Though her focus, Adam quickly observed, was clearly elsewhere.

As if not even noticing him, Lumen had tossed a small gym bag at the edge of the mats and quickly made work of her dark hair, her fingers running themselves frantically through its tangles in a vain effort to tie them back. Stray hairs stuck to the sticky sheen on her forehead as she struggled to compose herself.

Adam caught Lumen peeking over her shoulder near the entrance, gold eyes wide with anticipation.

Alit brilliant red, his own eyes shined as Adam conducted a quick scan of her vitals. Just as expected, the results read all racing pulse and rising body heat.

He frowned.

The woman was scared.

That force of rage soothed into a dull static. Still pissed? Absolutely, but his curiosity for her anxious state outweighed the anger, especially since the woman at this point seemed unable to experience anything resembling fear. She had stood brave in the face of his wrath before, multiple times even. Not budging, not wavering despite his powerful presence, despite the tight grip he had on her arm in the office.

If not terrified of him, Adam Smasher, what the hell could cause her to be so flustered?

Adam waited as she at last noticed him watching her, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m late,” Lumen stated sheepishly. “I know that.”

Eyes narrowing, Adam didn’t grace her with a response.

A sigh.

“It won’t happen again,” she continued. “I promise.”

He wholly expected a flood of excuses, but Lumen offered not a single one. Instead, she casually approached him, giving one final look over her shoulder towards the opening of the gym.

“Expecting someone?” he questioned.

She turned away.

“Hm?”

At that, Adam snapped.

“You’re not a stupid bitch so stop fucking acting like one!”

Lumen flinched at the sudden harshness in his voice, at how he somehow managed to make himself larger as he loomed over her frozen form.

However, much to Adam’s annoyance, she then squared her shoulders. In a showing of grace, Lumen chose to maintain her ignorance.

“It’s nothing,” she quipped. “Let’s just get started, yeah?”

A tense pause filled the air while the pair refused to break eye contact with one another, too stubborn and too prideful to back down first.

Adam rolled his eyes. So be it. He didn’t really give a fuck anyway. Temper steaming, he conceded, allowing the moment to pass so they could finally start his assessment.

“Stretch,” he ordered. “Then I’ll give you some exercises-”

“What kind?”

“Physical ones,” he replied sharply. “Just do what I fucking tell you. You’ve already wasted enough of my time tonight.”

It was then did she truly regard him. Amusement soon touched her features as she scrutinized his attire. Gone was his large Arasaka jacket, replaced with a gray tank of his own that clung to his large frame. More of his implants could be seen under the bright lights of the gym, and without the jacket’s neck guard Lumen was able to appraise the thick, black cables that snaked down his neck and shoulders, as well as the sharp jawline from the implant on his chin. He still wore his black cargo pants and military-grade boots, but seeing more of his broad shoulders and some RealSkin was a nice change for the good doctor. In a strange way the look humanized him.

“Gawk at me all you want,” stated Adam. “But don’t start anything you can’t finish, sweetheart.”

Her lips twisted into a scowl, but Lumen began stretching as he had told her to. Adam felt pleased at her obedience, eyes lingering on her body as she bent over to tap the mats. Her toned physique curved deliciously at her hips, ass, and breasts, and he blatantly allowed himself an eye full.

Denial served him no good. Adam knew that he was physically attracted to the woman. Knew since they first met in the lobby, her beauty and confidence stalling him in his tracks. Always more drawn to the feminine figure, Lumen’s body lacked any qualities that suggested any weakness. Her legs were lined with muscle, arms, too, showing evidence of some athleticism.

How unfortunate that she was the client, he thought. Might’ve be fun to-

“You good?”

Gold eyes pierced him like knives as her hands gripped her shins.

Adam smirked. No guilt filled him. No shame forced his eyes to avert. Instead, he held her stare in a welcomed challenge.

“Never better,” he responded.

Lumen scoffed.

“To start,” continued Adam. “I need to know what implants you’re outfitted with.”

The annoyance on her face melted away into a blank stare.

“Just my eyes,” she answered. “Kiroshis-”

“I’m not stupid. No one has eyes like yours.”

That last comment spilled out of him before he could stop it. Another pause followed. Adam pushed through the awkwardness, ignoring her quirked brow.

“What other cyberware?”

Her shoulders rose.

“That’s it. I don’t have-”

“There’s no use lying to me-”

“I know. I’m telling the truth. I don’t have anything else.”

His teeth grit.

Of course.

Of course that’s all she had.

His latest security job is an organic meatbag with a savior complex, and his future career with one of the leading corporations in Night City is hinging on her survival.

Lumen frowned as if sensing his disapproval, but he asked nothing more. Instead, Adam led her to an indoor track in the facility and commanded she run a mile. The woman did as she was asked, again stirring a sense of pleasure in the mercenary as he openly lusted at her body while she bounded away.

Meatbag or not, Adam planned to push her. To break her in. To see what she looked like when she crumbled, when her body gave out. To see how she handled pain. Eyes lingered on her ass as she lapped him, his mind forcibly ignoring how his body twitched.

The evening drawled on in a slower pace than what Adam preferred. True, Lumen did all that he asked when it came to assessing her physical prowess. She ran, lifted, pushed, pulled, twisted, and carried whatever weight, time, or distance that Adam commanded. She scored high in each test, even as patches of sweat darkened her top. Her stats mildly impressed him though he would never admit that. It was a small relief that he wouldn’t have to drag her ass through the field as he might the lazy corpos from past security details, their bodies clammy and panting from mild exercise. Though her body was strong, her understanding about defense tactics was certainly not. That’s what made time drag on, the hours stretching with each new technique and modeling of skill. Each drill was met with more questions and coupled with Lumen’s furrowed brow as she tried to learn proper stance and follow-through. She stumbled. She forgot where her hands were supposed to rest. He had to repeat himself, sometimes three or four times until she got it right. To be fair, her opponent stood more than a foot taller than her, his body broad, heavy, and hard. The average citizen of Night City wouldn’t have the same build, but Adam saw value in testing her all the same. No complaints left Lumen, though as time pressed on, Adam could sense her fatigue.

If asked, he would ignore any implications that he enjoyed testing her. The woman was surprisingly open and attentive to his teachings, even when bested by the merc or met with criticism. Adam caught her off guard multiple times to challenge her reflexes, shoulder checking or roughly shoving her back onto the cushioned mats. Frustration was evident whenever she made a mistake, usually in the form of a sharp exhale or her teeth worrying her bottom lip, but Lumen did not allow any self-pity. Instead, she quickly rose from the mat to try again. Such persistence and the true power he felt behind every blocked blow loosened Adam up. Perhaps he lingered in his holds a little longer than necessary. Perhaps he savored how his body was pressed against hers, the heady scent of her perfume and sweat intoxicating him. Maybe he enjoyed her shit-eating grin whenever she felt that she bested him. Or when he let her land some hits just to see her golden eyes light up in pride. Or Adam gave a short ‘good’ whenever she seemed to master a concept, the closest thing to praise that he ever gave anyone.

Denial served him no good. But he would deny to anyone watching them spar that night that he permitted himself a smile.

For his own amusement, Adam dodged her attempt to strike him in the face, side stepping and immediately wrapping an arm around her waist. A shriek escaped Lumen as he lifted her from the floor with ease and tossed her a few yards away, her body landing hard on the mats and rolling before she settled with a groan.

“Again,” Adam repeated for likely the hundredth time.

When Lumen spoke, her face was still turned away, muffled and listless.

“Does this gym not have a closing time-”

“No.”

A heavy breath left her, her body deflating from exhaustion.

“We’ve been doing this for like, six hours, Adam. I think I’m done for the day.”

“You’ll be done when I say you’re done. Get up-”

“Nah.”

She heard his steps and could practically feel the challenge rolling off of him in waves.

“I know that your little assessment is over,” she chided with the same amount of liveliness. “Safe to say that you like tossing me around.”

A sneer spread across Adam’s lips.

“Maybe I do,” he agreed. “Or I just like the view of you on your back.”

A laugh. Weak, but genuine all the same.

“Preem. Glad to know I’m not losing my mind.”

Rolling over, Lumen dared to look into his red eyes. Never got old, the way her eyes shined. The directness set him back.

“Did I pass?” she asked. “Are you willing to babysit me now?”

“Willing? Never.”

Her eyes rolled.

“But do I pass?”

“It’ll take years before you’re passable, but for one day a week I guess it’ll do.”

Lumen chuckled as she pulled herself to her feet. Every muscle and joint ached at the effort, a silent scream retching from her body after all the work that he put her through. She knew that the intensity and duration was all unnecessary, but she chose to humor him all the same with how he conducted his assessment. Especially after catching how Adam watched her, glimmers of his suppressed amazement glowing each time Lumen completed an exercise well ahead of her expected time.

“Holy shit, it’s midnight,” she breathed.

Adam said not a word, choosing to watch her stretch and pack her things in silence. Lumen’s gray tank top was soaked all the way through, evidence of her labor practically dripping off her face. The woman was still standing after all the hell he pushed her through, even smiling to herself as she took off her tank and slipped on a windbreaker. Wasn’t shy, not one bit. His eyes drank her in, committing her curves to memory. Just below the band of her sports bra, Adam saw the beginning of a black tattoo.

“Are you above fraternizing?”

The words took a moment to register, his mind wondering more so about the hidden ink.

Lumen’s smile weakened, feeling the sting of rejection in his lack of response.

“Hey,” she tried again in a new, soft voice. The change snapped Adam back into focus, suspicion filling him immediately.

“I’m sorry about how I treated you back at my office,” continued the woman. “That last time, you know, with my client?”

Her tongue wet her lips.

“She’s just a child,” continued Lumen. “And, well, I guess tantrums match the level of body modifications? I don’t know. Anyway, it wasn’t right that I took out my frustration on you. You just tried to help, and I’m sorry that I was…”

And just like that, her warm smile and how deeply she looked into his eyes captivated him. He froze at her authenticity, at how brazen she was with her vulnerable emotions. A whim that Adam seldom allowed himself to have, lest it maintain a sense of control.

“I was a bitch,” she concluded. “And I’m sorry.”

Adam wasn’t quite sure what to do next. No one had really apologized to him before, not out of anything other than pure fear anyway, and he was so taken aback by the genuine sincerity of it all that he found himself staring off towards the far side of the gym to avoid the intimacy of her gaze.

“I don’t give a shit,” he stated coolly. “You’re just part of the agreement with Arasaka, a means to an end unfortunately. Even if you were being a total cunt.”

Hoping that she would do something predictable like maybe argue or insult him, Adam dared his eyes to venture back to the woman. Lumen appeared not to take offense at his latest label. She laughed heartily.

“I guess I was being a cunt,” she mused. “That’s fair.”

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Lumen approached the door. She gave a small wave from over her shoulder. Adam was left speechless.

Before leaving the building himself, the merc took an elevator to one of the other lower floors. Too preoccupied by what occurred that evening, he nearly forgot to retrieve a finishing touch from the Weapons Department. He didn’t typically find much use for this particular item, the other contracts either not important enough or Adam not giving a shit either way, but in this case he thought it wise to play it safer rather than risk any unnecessary setbacks to his missions with Lumen. The check-out process was easy enough, especially with his level of clearance. Item in hand, Adam was lost in thought as he travelled down to the parking garage of Arasaka headquarters. The woman had asked him about fraternization.

Why?

To what end?

Did she expect him to want to have a drink with her? Dinner?

As if they were friendly?

As if he was interested in learning anything about her that didn’t have to do with their contract?

Enigmatic. That would be a great word to describe Lumen or at least one that satisfied Adam in that moment. Each time they met she surprised him. Each time she challenged his assumptions about how she’d respond, react, treat him, even in the face of an insult or threat. What bothered Adam more was how unbothered he was becoming to her defiance. He allowed her to roll her eyes, to argue, to bait him, to tease. Not once had he laid a hand on her with intent to harm. Unlike her colleague, Lumen walked away from their conversations unscathed, or more honestly, he felt the need to walk away from her due to how off kilter she made Adam feel with that smile and gentle touches of the hand. He shivered at the memory of her warmth, at how deeply she looked into his eyes with her palm pressed to his cheek. Couldn’t recall the last time someone held him like that, even if she was only doing it to distract him from his rage.

A scoff.

That’s the only reason she did such an intimate thing. To survive. To fend off her imminent demise at his hand. She must recognize how tentative her role is, that the moment Arasaka deemed their contact over all reserve and patience went out the window. That must be why he staved his anger, why he showed her such undeserved mercy even though she was such a festering pain in his ass.

And yet.

Preem. That’s what she had said with that classic smile. That’s what she said at their shared acknowledgment of his attraction to her.

Preem.

Almost flirtatious.

The elevator doors opened and let in the cool air of the parking garage. It smelled of oil and exhaust, coupled with the strong urban smells of the city street. Something about a city at night stirred within Adam a sense of belonging. Of home. Maybe it was the kind of people who roamed freely at night, who clubbed, drank, and drugged themselves to excess in primal escapism. The kind who found comfort in the shadows as he did, who took refuge in the lapse in reality that Night City’s underbelly provided.

He breathed it in to feel the taste on his tongue, already debating on how to spend one of his rare, free nights off.

Just as Adam was about to leave the garage, a far-off figure captured his attention.

She stood in heavy contemplation by the opening of the garage, her attention completely void of Adam’s presence. That plump bottom lip of hers were tugged in her teeth with her fingers also pinching the skin as she thought on, clearly weighing upon an important decision.

Adam frowned at seeing Lumen still lingering around the corporate building. Their time had concluded half an hour ago, yet there she was. Stance rigid, Adam took note in how uncomfortable she appeared, recalling how strangely she had entered the gym earlier in the night. He scanned her, not surprised to see her heart rate was elevated and breathing slightly labored.

Fear.

Textbook fear, but why?

Following her stare, Adam quickly understood.

Down the street stood a small group of young men. They stood huddled amongst each other near the hood of some beat up car, their scrappy clothes alit by streetlight. They smoked and talked to one another in hushed voices, but even in their best efforts to appear nonchalant, Adam was aware at how each one would periodically stare in Lumen’s direction. Eyes hooded and with a hint of a smile, one man even nodded towards her. Lumen flinched.

No one was aware of Adam. No one knew he lingered in the shadows, how he was privy to all who were involved. How he had access to their bounties and criminal charges in seconds, how his temper blistered at seeing the nature of their offenses.

With a heavy hand, Adam reached out from the darkness and placed his palm on the base of her neck. Lumen jumped instantly, a scream catching in her throat.

“Do you know them?”

His voice was stern, though unreadable. Beneath his touch, he could feel her body relaxing, at how calm she became at hearing his voice.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered. “Why the fuck would you do that-”

“Do you know those men?”

She swallowed.

“No.”

Adam stepped out from beneath the shadows of the parking garage, his grip still on the back of Lumen’s neck.

When he spoke again, his voice was louder and held a sort of lethality in its tone.

“Go home,” he commanded.

Before she could respond, his other hand left his side to reveal the item he took from the Weapons Department. She frowned in confusion as he held up a large white ring, the device clearly some form of modification. Without asking, Adam moved the device over her head and hung it around her neck.

“What is this?” asked Lumen.

“A Halo.”

Adam’s red eyes glowed an amber color, the device then chiming to life. Lumen felt a dull vibration coming from the ring as it activated and synced with the mercenary, her anxiety bubbling even more. It shined a bright white, the color illuminating her face in a faint glow. Adam gave her neck a squeeze.

“What, what does it do?” she asked him.

“Stops anyone from hacking in, even if its just your optics and processor. Tells me where you are at all times and any irregularities in your vitals. Also has a panic feature. Not that you’ll need it.”

That last part was said while Adam gave his coldest stare to the men on the opposite end of the street. He knew they could hear him, knew they recognized who he was, his name falling off their lips the moment he revealed himself. Adam reveled in how quickly they avoided his gaze, at how fast they scrambled.

Turning back to Lumen, he caught her letting out a sigh of relief.

“Go home,” he commanded again. “Turn this off when you get there.”

She nodded slowly.

Adam’s eyes lingered on her face a moment longer, taking in the redness of her cheeks and how quickly her pulse raced, his thumb feeling its drumming beneath his touch.

He let her go and turned down the sidewalk, not bothering to look at her again.

Just as Adam thought that he finally had the final word, a faint ‘thank you’ was whispered from behind.

#adam smasher #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077

[dimeforhispocket]

As if it’s Our Last (Part 2/2)

Nafla x fem!reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: some angst but a ton of fluff

Word count: 12k

Summary: or maybe you have a lifetime of opportunities

Notes: situationship, implied sexual content, you can also read on my AO3

You hold up a sign when you wait for him to come out into the arrivals hall at the airport. When he comes out and sees it, he bursts into laughter as he approaches you with his arms out for a hug.

“Where did you get a picture like that?” He asks as you hug him back gently.

“I commissioned an artist to make it. Here you are, sir.” You hand him the cardstock picture of a baby husky popping out of a Coca Cola can and take hold of his small rolling suitcase. “Let’s go.”

“Thank you.” He chuckles, following right beside you towards the airport parking lot where your car is.

Conversation flows freely between you two as you put his belongings in the trunk and have him join you in the passenger’s seat. “Here, I got you a prepaid SIM card that you can use while you’re here.” You fish out the card from you bag.

“Say what. Oh wow, thank you.” He takes it gratefully and gets to work on switching out the SIM cards in his phone while you back out of your spot and drive towards the exit. You confirm with him the name of the hotel before you make your turn onto the right lane and start towards your destination.

“Wow, you really came prepared with everything. Thank you.” He says as he leans back in his seat, looking out of the windows to take in the sights of the city passing by.

“Of course! If I’m gonna be your guide, then I sure as hell am gonna be the best.” You scoff, “I got a lot of stuff for you to see, but we can take it as slow as you like. You must be tired after your flight.”

“A little bit, but I’m all good now that I’ve seen you.” He smiles.

“Smooth talker.” You chuff before you both laugh and update each other on the recent happenings in your lives as you drive to the hotel. And although your eyes are on the road the majority of the time, you can’t help a few quick glances over at him.

He’s as cute as the last time you saw him. His hair is a lot more faded out now after having gone through a couple new styles and looks since the last time you saw him, and his skin is a little fairer after the winter, but overall you don’t notice any stark differences. He’s still as awe striking as he was to you before. It’s still unbelievable that you went to personally pick up Nafla at the airport.

You hope that he’s impressed with or at least enjoying the small effort you put into your look today. It’s nothing fancy, since you didn’t want to stand out too much, but you did doll up your hair and face a little differently. And maybe this is a new shirt, but that’s it. You still have a casual-day-out look about you.

Once you arrive at the hotel, you accept the offer for the valet service even though you don’t usually. It’s just a little more hassle than it’s worth to park on your own and find your way back up to the lobby when you’re taking a celebrity around. You join him at the front desk and Nafla takes care of most of the check-in process, so you just drag his suitcase along when you receives his key card.

“Oh wow, it’s nice.” You whistle when he opens up the door to his room on the 20th floor. It’s a little more spacious than the average room, and has a luxurious bathroom area. The view isn’t too shabby either.

You take your time scoping the place while Nafla gets his stuff together. He offers you a drink but you decline and just take a seat on the loveseat by the window. “So you’re here for like, three days, right?”

“Yeah, flying out around noon after the third night, so I gotta get to the airport in the morning.” He replies, putting all his essentials in his small over-the-shoulder fanny pack — hype beast brand, of course. “But until then, let’s go and make the most of it.”

He’s standing all packed, ready to go out on the town. He didn’t bother changing, but he did put a cap on, which you think always looks cute on him. “You sure you don’t need to rest a bit or anything?” You offer as a last chance.

“Nah, fuck sleep. Let’s go.” He nods towards the door, and you follow his lead. You were hoping he’d say that.

*

After getting a light lunch at a nearby chain restaurant that you happen to love, you take him towards the city center for the biggest tourist attractions first. You act as his photographer and take the coolest pictures of him, and even pose in a few silly photos yourself. It’s weird to think that Nafla is taking pictures with you to keep in his phone instead of the other way around. Though you do do the same.

Once the late afternoon settles in, however, you bring him to your favorite place for a long walk — the bay park. “It starts around where the bridge is, but stretches out across the rest of the city, so it’s a popular place for a lot of people to just jog or ride their bikes. Kind of like the Han River, in a way.” You explain.

“Wow, it’s incredible.” He takes a breath when he sees the view and takes in the cool afternoon breeze. “How is this not more famous in tourist sites and books?”

“Leave it alone, we locals gotta have a spot to ourselves.” You wave him off but lead him towards the walking path right by the water. “You okay with walking for a bit?”

“For sure.” He agrees.

The conversation begins to slow between you as Nafla continues looking out into the bay and the view of the city while you just reminisce in the fact that you’re taking a sunset stroll with your celebrity K-hip hop crush. But after a couple minutes of relaxed silence, you decide to take it a step further.

“Wanna listen to some music with me?” You pull out your Bluetooth earphones.

“Yeah, sure.” He smiles, taking one of the wireless earphones from you and sticking it in his ear. You try to stay calm about it as you pull out your phone to look through your playlists.

“I’m about to bare my soul to you.” You confess, picking your go-to playlist for a long walk. “But feel free to ask me to skip.”

“Sounds good.”

“And we can switch to yours on the way back.” You offer, chuckling giddily at the idea of being able to listen to what Nafla has in his own music library.

You start with a familiar, upbeat Korean song and leave it on shuffle for the time being, letting your pace match the beat as you continue along the bay path. And honestly, this makes the whole experience a lot more pleasant — as music usually does. Nafla nods and bounces along beside you as you continue walking and you share glances and smiles with each other every so often.

But it’s only a couple minutes into the walk when a new song pops up and you can feel your arms twitching, itching to do a wave or some sort of dance move. In truth, a lot of the time that you come here to walk, you come in search of inspiration for a new set of choreography to a new song you want to do for a class. Or sometimes, you just want to take a moment to stand off to the side of the park and dance to the music in your earphones without a care as to who’s watching in the area.

It’s hard to hold off on those impulses with Nafla here, but you don’t want to get too crazy when it’s only his first day here. As well as his first time seeing you again after several months. But you suppose you can’t hide it even if you try, because Nafla suddenly asks, “You look like you really want to dance right now.”

You turn as see that he has what must be an amused, but can pass as a forgiving smile on his face. So you relent and sigh, “Yes… I really love this song.”

“Okay, show me what you’re feeling.” He encourages you.

“You sure? You’re not gonna get embarrassed and run off?” You laugh.

“I didn’t say that.”

You hit his arm lightly with a little pout, and he quickly follows up to say that he was kidding, and that it is completely okay if you want to dance. “Well, thanks.” You say, “Hope you don’t regret it.”

You let this song pass and end before you start bouncing along more visibly to the next one. Thank goodness he asked, because you don’t know if you would’ve been able to hold back for this one. You’re already lip syncing along to the words and sweeping your arms out in front of you to dramatize the song, and Nafla is happily laughing at you.

But when you pull up a few steps ahead to start spinning and adding some footwork, that’s when he pulls out the camera. You protest at first, but he keeps finding a way to record you anyway when you start dancing again, so you just come to terms with the reality that Nafla will have some embarrassing videos of you in his possession.

At some point, you actually pull him aside to one of the balcony areas of the path and ask him to help play the song while recording you with your phone. “I’ll use it as a point of reference when I’m putting the choreo together later.”

Admittedly, you feel less silly when you have Nafla there with you recording and looking like he’s supporting you than when you’re out here on your own. He seems to find you entertaining too, so at least you manage to keep the mood light. “You’re a riot.” He chuckles when you announce that it’s time to turn around and head back to the car.

“Let’s listen to your music now. I don’t want to be the only one jamming out here.” You suggest.

So Nafla connects his phone to your earphones this time and pulls up a playlist of his own. As expected, it’s a bunch of hip hop songs, though they don’t really seem to have a uniform theme about them. You recognize at least half of the ones that play, but a lot of them, you haven’t heard before. It’s interesting to get to know his music taste. To know that this is what Nafla listens to on the regular, that this is what helped inspire him to pursue the career he has now.

Despite not knowing some songs, you still bounce along to some of them, and even ask him to send you the names of one or two that you’d like to listen to on your own in the future. But most of the walk continues without too much conversation between you on the way back, just the nice breeze and the great view.

Until you’re caught by surprise when Nafla slips his hand into yours. You had been staring out into the bay as usual when you felt his soft, but firm hand take a gentle hold of yours. Of course you snap your head around to look at him, then down at your hands, then at him again with that adorable innocent look on his face. When he offers you nothing but a small smile, you crumble and just smile back before turning back to face the water.

Mostly to hide the actual gigantic smile piercing across your cheeks because Nafla!!!! Is holding!! Your!!! Hand!!!!!! Like you’re a couple or something!!! It’s so freaking cute, you want to scream, but you’re somehow afraid that it might actually travel across the oceans back to South Korea where his main fan base will find you.

You take a quick peek around to see if any of the other bystanders are staring at you, or if anyone might recognize Nafla (which they haven’t so far, luckily for you), but you just let it be and allow yourself the euphoria of holding your favorite rapper’s hand while you daydream about him as your boyfriend.

There’s a buzz in your heart for the rest of the evening when you take him out for dinner at one of your favorite local restaurants and then to a nice bar that you’ve been to once before. You both talk casually and amiably and give off no more displays that may hint that you two are more than friends, and the entire evening remains pleasant even so.

By the time you bring him back to his hotel, it’s almost midnight. You’re about to drop him off at the front and drive home, but he stops you, “Come spend the night.”

“What?”

“Come on, I don’t want you to go yet.” He rubs his hand persuasively on top of yours that’s on the gear shift, “Stay the night with me.”

“I- I have a class tomorrow morning.” You point out, though really, all you want is to stay with Nafla for the whole night, “I was just gonna come back and meet you for lunch or something.”

“You can still make it.” His hand is rubbing on your forearm now, and moving up to rest on your shoulder. He moves in close to your ear to whisper, “I’ll try not to keep you up too late.”

You close your eyes and try to disguise your shudder with an exasperated sigh before putting the car back in drive, “Fine.”

When you’re back in Nafla’s room after leaving your car in the hotel garage, he requests to shower first, so you agree and use the time while he’s in there to try and settle your nerves.

By texting your group chat with your closest friends, ‘I’M STAYING WITH HIM TONIGHT LASDJFOAIEW’  

You type out as many details as you can in the conversation with all the excited replies that pop up until Nafla appears back in the room, freshly cleaned in some simple pajamas. “You can shower now if you want.”

“Okay,” you say, sending a last update and promise of more details later before putting your phone on do not disturb mode.

“Here, you can wear this for tonight.” He offers you a t-shirt, which you gratefully accept before heading into the bathroom.

You stare at yourself in the mirror as you silently freak out and mouth to yourself all kinds of things while you’re hidden away from Nafla. You cannot believe you’re going to spend the night in his hotel room, wearing his shirt, doing… who knows what with him. As you wash off in the luxurious, marble-tiled shower, your mind wanders back to the glorious, pleasure-hazed memories of how you spent your last night with him. You don’t want to hold any expectations based on what happened before, but your body is thrumming in anticipation for what could happen next.

When you reappear into the bedroom with absolutely nothing on except his shirt — you washed your underwear in the shower and you’re letting it dry so you can wear it tomorrow morning — you come to find that Nafla is tucked in to the waist in the duvet on the bed, watching a movie on the TV. He turns to you with a smile and pats the other side of the bed, beckoning you to join him.

You settle yourself into the bed carefully, making sure the hem of the shirt still covers the top of your thighs even when you slide onto the mattress. “Endgame?” You try to identify the movie he’s watching.

“Infinity War.”

And so begins a whole discussion of the Marvel series, which expands into other movie genres and topics until Nafla interrupts to bring your attention to the scene playing. And soon, you’re both too drawn into the plot of the film to talk anymore.

At one point, however, he does take a moment to murmur to you, “C’mere,” to press you close to his side and put his arm around your shoulders. Your heart flips at the proximity and intimacy of the position, with the both of you rested against the pillows, every inch of your sides touching from torso to leg, and your head that could easily lay on his shoulder. It’s a wonder if he can’t feel your heart beating in your chest.

Eventually, you do get a little tired of holding your head up to watch the movie when there’s a perfectly viable headrest available to you that would allow you to continue watching just fine, so you give in and tuck your head into the crook of Nafla’s neck for the remainder of the movie. He’s incredibly warm, and buff, from what you can tell. Maybe even more so than the last time you were with him.

The movie continues on, and you sink into the absolute perfection of this moment. You’re cuddled up against Nicholas Choi, wearing his shirt in his room, after he flew into your city and asked you to stay the night with him. You don’t want to dare to ask, but could there really be anything better than this?

You suppose there can, when Nafla turns his attention over to you and finds tears coming down your face as the end credits begin rolling. “Aw, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You croak, sniffling as you wipe at the tears, “It’s just… his voice at the end. It’s heartbreaking.”

“Yeah, it is.” Nafla swipes his thumb across your cheek at a tear you might’ve missed, and looks at your face so intensely that you start to wonder if you did something wrong.

But as he stares longer, and starts stroking some of your hair back from your face, you begin to pick up on the shift in the mood. You wait for him to make the first move though, just staring back at him with a vulnerable look in your eyes until he leans in to kiss you.

Wow, it’s amazing. As amazing as it was the first time. And the second, and third, and all the times after that. He adjusts you to have you lie down more flatly on your back so he can plant a hand on the other side of your head to kiss you more deeply. Your idle hands slide up his chest and come up to cup his face. It feels a little more intimate that he may be going for, but you can’t help it. You just feel so warm and soft and close to him right now, you need to hold him.

Needless to say, you didn’t need the shirt after all throughout the rest of the evening. And Nafla didn’t manage to keep his word about trying not to keep you up too late.

*

“You were so incredible.”

“Thanks, I do my best.”

Nafla is waiting for you to pack up your stuff in the gym dance studio after your morning hip hop class. He decided to join in since it was a drop in class anyway, and you were nervous, but happy to have him. The class was small, as it usually is on Saturday mornings, but luckily they all had plenty of energy. And Nafla was able to follow along just fine about ten minutes into it.

“I’m impressed you’re still capable of teaching a class. Thought I might’ve worn you out this morning.” He teases.

“Shut up, it wasn’t all that.” You roll your eyes.

After a long, tender, late-night romp that lasted until about 3AM, you both managed to fall asleep for a couple of hours before Nafla woke you with his wood poking your back. And well, since he was a light sleeper, he easily woke up when you simply groaned and stretched against his hold on your waist. But even with morning breath and the exhaustion of a day out and night in, he still kissed you and initiated a round of lazy morning sex.

Which was absolutely euphoric, so you claiming that it ‘wasn’t all that’ is just a bit, fat lie. And Nafla knows that, but he lets you have it as you lead the way back to your car so you two can go grab some lunch.

“So what’s on the itinerary for the rest of today?” He asks as he digs in.

“Well, actually I have some work to do on my laptop for a bit, so I was hoping we could chill at a cafe for a bit this afternoon?” You give him an innocent, but pleading look.

“Sure, we can do that.” He agrees.

“Great! Thank you, it’s just that I really want to get it out of the way so that I won’t be thinking about it for the rest of the weekend.” You explain, “But I’ll take you to my absolute favorite cafe in the city. It might not be that impressive compared to the ones in Korea, but I really love it.”

Nafla seems to find it not too shabby either when you bring him in and order your drinks. You sent him off to find a table while you paid, since you’ve been paying for a lot of the meals during your outings. “It’s the least I can do,” you keep telling him that a few meals and drinks are nothing compared to how priceless the experiences you’ve had with him have been.

He chose a booth near the back, where it’s quieter and slightly more isolated from the rest of the cafe patrons. He took the seat that’s facing the rest of the cafe, so you sit in the booth chair across from him and set up your laptop, “They’ll bring the drinks here.”

“Cool.” He says, pulling out his phone and tapping around on it. You’ve just started in on your work emails when the drinks arrive, and you leave Nafla to take his photos and send his texts and everything else while you work your way through your tasks.

About half an hour in, and half a drink consumed, Nafla silently moves out of his side of the booth to join you on yours. “Can I sit here?” He asks.

“You already are.” You snort, letting him lean against your side and wrap his arms around your waist as you continue to read through and make notes on the documents you’re going through. Nafla just rests his chin on your shoulder and watches as you continue to work, and you suddenly feel tingly and warm at the intimacy.

Practically speaking, if you wanted to fully focus on your task to get it done faster, you’d ask Nafla to let go and give you some space, because his touch and scent are sending your thoughts all over the place. But you like it so much, so you leave it alone and settle for taking twice as long to read and reread through some sections of the documents.

Nafla goes back and forth between playfully rubbing patterns in your body and looking through his phone, but he stays close to you no matter the task. At some point, he actually starts kissing at your jaw and neck, claiming that he isn’t looking for attention when you question him. But by the time you somehow manage to get through your list of tasks, Nafla has given you two fresh new hickeys.

“Oh my gosh, I cannot believe you,” You smack his thigh when you pull up your laptop webcam to inspect the red spots on your collarbone and the side of your neck.

“Hey, they’re not any worse than the ones you gave me.” He points out, pulling down the collar of his hoodie to reveal the several purple bruises you had left there last night. You had refrained from the love bites that first night back in Seoul, but somewhere in the conversation, he said that it was okay to leave whatever marks you wanted here. Guess he doesn’t see any harm in it since he’s in a country where he isn’t as easily recognized.

“At least yours can be hidden easily,” you retort, rubbing at what will likely be a very visible mark on the side of your neck tomorrow. You turn to him with narrowed eyes, “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so nice.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna get your revenge?” He chuckles, like he’s challenging you.

Instead of answering, you pull him closer by the front of his hoodie and kiss right in the center of his throat, where his adam’s apple is. You can feel him swallow against your lips, even though he’s chuckling casually above you. Slowly, you continue your trail of kisses, higher and higher until you reach the edge of his jaw right underneath his ear.

You wait a beat and breathe against his skin, to which he responds by gripping you tighter in his hold. His anticipation makes your heart jump in excitement and giddiness, so you put your lips right there on his jaw. And you kiss on him a few times before parting your lips to lock around that small patch of skin, sucking and occasionally licking until you know there’ll be a dark purple bruise forming in a few hours.

When you let go, and kiss back down his neck, you hear and feel him shiver against you, and your ego just blows up a few sizes. Dragging your nose up from his adam’s apple to his chin, you lean back to get a good look at his face. And you are absolutely gone seeing that breathless, needy look in his eyes.

You smile in something of a victory, and he shuts you up by pushing his lips back into yours and pulling you closer by the waist until you’re almost on his lap. God, is it possible to get high or drunk off of another person’s scent like this? Does he realize what he’s doing to you? You’ve melted into his hands and against that soft, talented mouth of his. If he can kiss and touch like this, it’s no wonder his music feels so authentic when you hear it.

When Nafla moans into your mouth, however, that’s when you have to bring things to a pause, “Mm, Nick. Nick, wait.” You pant, stopping his hands from coming any higher up your torso, “No more, not here.”

He heaves a dramatic sigh, but willingly agrees. He leaves a peck on your nose before moving back to his own side of the booth. You check yourself in the webcam once more and adjust your somewhat disheveled appearance before shutting down your computer and putting all your materials away. “I have a fun place in mind next.” You announce.

*

Nafla’s eyes turn everywhere as he takes in all of the flashing lights of all the arcade games, and the adult fun house area in the center of the facility. There’s an area for rocking climbing and a tightrope course and even a trampoline and ball pit. Basically everything fit for the inner child that still lives within the adult body. “This is so cool.”

“Yeah, and look at this.” You lead him by the hand over to the Dance Dance Revolution area, where there are a handful of people gathered to watch the college kids who frequent the arcade play the game.

Nafla watches as they select a hit pop song and follow all the dance steps with the most stylish flair to their movements. It looks like they’re actually performing the choreographed dance rather than playing a virtual game. The only thing that gives it away is the fact that their eyes remain glued to the screen in front of them, watching the arrows carefully as they rapidly climb to signal the next move.

“That’s fucking crazy! They must practice a lot.” He comments, awestruck by the dancers.

“Yeah, they’re here every time I stop by this area. They might actually be part of a dance club at school or have their own crew.” You explain.

“Whoa…” he trails off as he continues to watch. And after several more songs, Nafla turns back to you, “Do you ever play?”

“Me?” You laugh, “Yeah, I used to. Sometimes. I’m nowhere near this level though.”

“I dare you to do it.” He challenges.

“Oh, you dare me?” You challenge back, “Then I dare you to join me.”

So that’s how you end up on another DDR machine in the arcade, dancing against Nafla to different hip hop and K-pop songs you found in the catalogue. He’s not that great, but he does make it to C-class scores. Not that you’re much better than him at B-class. You got all the moves, but your rhythm was more awkward than you remember. It’s been a while since you’ve danced to a game.

Not that it matters, because you and Nafla are just laughing for the rest of the afternoon as you bulldoze through the games in the arcade, winning tickets and getting prizes. You even get a slot to jump around in the trampoline and ball pit area with him.

He looks like he’s having the time of his life, and you’re so glad that you’re able to see that smile on his face. You feel honored to be able to bring him to such a place to give him that kind of happiness. And by the time you’ve both had dinner and drinks, you decide to just spend the rest of the night in.

“You sure you don’t want to visit the local club? Because I don’t know if you’ll be able to get up for your flight on Monday if you go tomorrow.” You ask as you pull out your pajamas from your bag. You had made a stop back at your house this morning before your gym class to change and get some spare clothes since Nafla insisted on having you stay with him for his remaining nights here.

“It’s cool. Besides, why would I need to go to the club when I would just dance with you anyway?” He comes up from behind you and wraps you in a hug before giving you a tender kiss.

“Oh? So even with all the pretty girls in a different country, you’d still pick me?” You say it teasingly, but you kind of want to take it back once you say it. It sounds more presumptuous than you meant for it to come out.

Nafla is silent for a moment, which makes it even harder on your nerves and pounding heart, because the last thing you want is to make things awkward by having The Talk. You’re not sure if either of you are ready to put a label on what you have right now, and you’re not sure you’d like the answer that comes out of the discussion either.

But he takes it easy on you and answers you in that throaty, moody voice, “Of course.”

And that’s all you need for tonight.

*

Nafla’s last day in town is filled with tour bus rides, short hikes, shopping, bar hopping, and all kinds of food. And like the previous night, he chooses to stay in for his last night with you. You crack open some beers in his room, sing and dance around the room with water bottle mics, you hand-feed him some snacks while you’re both naked in bed watching a movie, take a bath together, give each other massages, and have endless bouts of sex.

It’s almost as if neither of you want the night to end, so you just do as much as you can to avoid going to sleep. But morning does eventually come, and Nafla has to shower and pack up his belongings.

While you lie there as he packs, you can’t get out of your own head, wondering if you should talk to him about… what you two are. Are you even anything? You would like to think so. The guy flew all the way out to your city to see you, didn’t announce his travel plans to anyone publicly, and he’s been acting like your boyfriend since he touched down here.

At the same time, all of that could just be because this is more of a getaway to him. He can’t have the comfort of anonymity in Korea, he can’t hold hands on a peaceful walk in public or make out with someone in a cafe or go around without worrying about being bombarded by fans. So maybe this was his chance to escape all of that and have a temporary girlfriend.

Maybe that’s what he likes about you. The fact that you’re temporary, and that you don’t bring it up. From the beginning, you’ve always been ready to say goodbye. From the first night at the club, to the second night at the party, and even now, you haven’t brought up anything about seeing him again after this. Maybe he likes the fact that you have no strings attached, and that you make things so easy for him. All the fun without any of the commitment.

Which you can understand, coming from his position as a famous rapper. It’s hard for him to enjoy moments like this now that he’s shot up to fame. Can you blame him for wanting a taste of it in the midst of all his success?

No, but you still have yourself to think about. You don’t know if you can go on wondering what you’ll have between you for the next months to come. Is there even anything possible for the two of you? There’s potential, for sure, but the practicality of it all makes it hard.

And first and foremost, does he even want anything more with you? For all you know, this could just be a fun fling for him and he may never contact you again after this. If you suddenly ask the ‘what are we?’ question, you might end up feeling humiliated for even thinking that you had some sort of chance to be with someone in his realm of fame. So should you even bring it up at all? Or should you just let it sit in your mind until after he leaves and deal with whatever will come later?

Would that be the easier option? To just opt out of the awkward conversation and keep the good memories of his visit in the case that he ends up not speaking to you ever again? You would end up as a hot fling legacy in his past, but you’d be a good memory, you assume. And it would be consistent with what you’ve expected from him since you first met; no expectations and no complications. If he wants to keep reaching out, then he can.

But then what if he does keep reaching out? What if this keeps happening? Are you just going to be his holiday fling forever? Does that make you seem easy? Or less of a person? That’s the last thing you want, as much as you like Nafla and want to continue getting to know him. But if this isn’t ever going to build into something feasible, then wouldn’t you just be reserving too much of your time waiting for him to get back to you?

You would love to see him again, but if you ask this question, it could very much end up jeopardizing the relationship you have in the future. Is it worth it? Is any of this going to be worth it?

“What are you thinking about?” Your heart jolts, but you manage to at least keep the shock within your body when Nafla pulls up behind you with a light hug.

Now’s your chance.

“Just… can’t believe the weekend passed by so quickly.”

“Yeah, I know right. It’s crazy.” Nafla agrees with a soft, tender voice.

Chicken, you cringe at your inner cowardice. Because you know it’s true. You’re too scared to risk it, especially when it’s just such a rare opportunity to still be in contact with Nafla when you could’ve easily been left as a one-night stand. Yet, you feel kind of relieved that you’ve decided to hold your tongue for the moment.

The atmosphere between you is still light and sweet as you go with Nafla to check out and drive him to the airport. He summarizes some of his favorite parts of the trip, several of which allude to your reactions when he pleasured you in the evenings. You act offended, but you laugh along and quip back with your own observations of his quirks.

You can’t believe you know these things about him. To think, you’ve gotten to know Nafla at a deeper level than the average person. Clearly, you’re still leagues away from being someone within his circle, but you’re still in awe of how lucky you’ve been to be able to spend this much time with your favorite rapper.

Flight check-in is smooth, and you’re especially relieved that there haven’t been any big incidents up until this point. It’s a wonder that not a single person has come up to him or done a double take to try and get a better look at him to confirm that he is indeed Nafla. Though to his credit, he’s wearing a hat and a mask at the airport right now, so that helps a little bit.

He still has over an hour to get to his gate, so you’re wondering how you should address this farewell. You’re still talking casually as you approach the area for TSA checks, which is where you’ll have to part. So when you actually do make a stop there, you turn to face him and say, “It’s been such a pleasure having you here. I’m so honored that I was able to spend time with you and act as your guide. That you decided to come here for a vacation in the first place.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. I had the best time, thanks to you.” He smiles at you, opening his arms for a hug, “I almost wish it wouldn’t have to end.”

“You’re telling me.” You laugh over his shoulder as you hug him tight, wanting to relish every last minute that you get to feel Nafla’s body against yours.

Then he tackles you with a surprise whisper, “I don’t want to say goodbye just yet.”

You pull away with a sympathetic pout in your lip, “I can keep you company for a little bit longer before you have to leave.”

He takes your hand, and you can see his smile in his eyes even behind the mask, “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

*

On your way back to the car after finally sending him off, you pull up your phone to message the group chat.

‘I literally just had goodbye sex in an airport bathroom’

The replies come immediately.

‘WHEN DID U BECOME SUCH A CLICHE’

‘Aaahhh!!!!!!’

‘YOU DID WHAT’

‘GET IT GIRL’

*

He ends up posting a photo set on Instagram of his trip. The only hint that he was with you (or any person at all) is his caption at the end of the post, where he gives photo credit to a wolf emoji. Which is what you’re guessing is the closest thing he could find to a husky, so you like the photo and ignore all the comments about when he was in the country, or the upset from fans that missed him because they know the spots in the photos that he visited, and the handful of questions about a dog taking the photos for him.

Nafla had texted you for a bit after landing back in Seoul, but eventually things picked up again and he got busy. You’re okay with the distance because you just spent several days with him and only him, and you have plenty of memories to daydream and reminisce about when you’re bored. The goodbye you two shared was rather dramatic since he had fucked you in a handicap stall in the men’s room before taking his flight, but it was seamless. You felt like you got closure and capped it off perfectly without any more expectations for the future.

So you’re doing a lot better than you were worried about now that he’s back in Korea. Work still keeps you busy, and your friends let you gush about him every time you meet up. And in the aftermath, you’ve actually gotten addicted to quite a number of songs that you felt really narrated your shotgun romance with Nafla, and developed some new choreography to them to illustrate the experience.

In fact, you even have another fling with someone you meet at the club on a night out with your friends. It wasn’t your best one, obviously, not after you went through such a whirlwind of great sex with Nick, but it was still liberating in a way. You were starting to move on with your life without him constantly on your mind.

So leave it to him to abruptly stop that good flow with a surprise video call several minutes before your morning alarm is about to go off.

At first, you’re confused and wondering if you’re dreaming or misreading the name on your phone, because Nafla has never video called you before. In fact, he hasn’t even voice called you before, so this is really coming out of nowhere, especially after several weeks of no contact since he left your city. But who knows? It could be an emergency, so you decide to pick up.

“Hello?” You groan through your morning voice and try to pry your eyes open wider than a squint. The sunrise is harsher than usual from through the window.

“Hey, uh…” He hesitates. But wow, you did not realize that just hearing his voice again would do this to you in the morning. “Did I wake you?”

“What do you think?” You answer cheekily, rolling around and sighing as you look for the strength to lift your phone up to see his face and let him see yours.

“Oh, sorry. What time is it over there?”

You look up at the time at the top of your phone screen and relay the information, “Just before 6:30. You jerk.” You add in a playful murmur.

He laughs and apologizes again, and that’s when you hear chuckles and chatter in the background. “Who are you with right now?”

“Just some of the guys, I think you might remember them.” He maneuvers the camera around to reveal Bloo, Loopy, and Owen beside him. They all wave and shout hello to you, to which you chuckle and say hi back.

“So, like…” Nafla starts, looking somewhat nervous, “We were just talking a bit, and the topic of my vacation last time when I visited you came up. So yeah, I just wanted to see your face again.” He finishes awkwardly, “And show it to these guys.”

“Hello~” Some of them wave again.

“So you decided to call me before seven in the morning, and expose my crusty ass face to all your friends?” You say, rolling over to your stomach and propping yourself up on your elbows before holding up your phone properly again.

“No, that’s the thing! I was actually telling them how you’re still really pretty without makeup on or anything.” He defends.

“Yeah, we were talking about how Meg and some other girls we work with all look so different without their makeup on. And then Nick here was all like, ‘nah she’s way prettier when she doesn’t have it on, blah blah blah’ and we were like ‘prove it’ so he just called you.” Bloo goes on to explain. You can’t tell if he’s already had a couple drinks today or if that’s just how he normally talks, but he’s got a happy slur about him.

But you do pick up on the detail that Nick was talking about you and calling you pretty, which makes your heart leap far too high for the morning.

“What is this, a college frat dare?” You scoff, tossing your hair out of the way and checking your face in the video camera for any dried up fluids in the corner of your eyes or nose.

“Oh my god, it feels like it. These guys wouldn’t stop bothering me about it, so that’s why I just called you. Sorry again, for waking you to deal with this bullshit.” Nafla says.

“He was right though, you’re still very pretty with a bare face.” Loopy decides to interject, and Bloo comes in with a few agreeable comments.

“Thanks, I guess.” You roll your eyes but offer a sleepy smile anyway. That’s when your phone alarm goes off, so you switch it off and sigh as you slowly slide out of your bed.

“You gotta get ready?” Nafla asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “A regular work day.”

“Oh okay, well maybe I’ll talk to you later?” He offers, though he sounds slightly disappointed. And that small shift in the tone of his voice is what snatches at your heart and makes you ache not to say goodbye.

“No, it’s okay. It’s been a while, so I can talk for a bit.” You say as you set your phone on the bathroom counter, “If you actually want to talk, that is.”

“Yeah, yeah! For sure.” He says, “We got a little time too, and I was wondering how you’ve been doing anyway.”

You don’t have the energy to warn them that you’re taking a leak, so when they hear the flush and there’s laughter in the background, you can understand the humor, you suppose. “Wait, did you just go to the bathroom while on the call with him?” Bloo asks, laughing.

“Yeah! A girl’s gotta pee.” You argue, washing your hands and grabbing for your toothbrush. “You go first though, since I gotta brush. What’s been going on with you?”

You talk throughout your entire morning routine, and most of the other guys eventually leave Nafla alone to chat with you. Though they occasionally do pass by again and ask a question or make a comment about something. As you talk with him over your breakfast and putting on your makeup, you get kind of caught up in the excitement and comfort of talking to him again.

It’s only when you’re about to start your car to go to work that you decide to hang up. You keep the goodbye casual, but once the line’s cut, you take a deep breath to squeal and bounce in your seat until you’ve calmed down. “Nafla just video called me… He just called me… Ah!!”

When you’ve finally calmed down enough to start your car and make your way out of the parking garage onto the road, you’re already thinking about how you’re going to slam your keyboard in the group chat. And then, right at a stoplight, a new message appears on your phone, making you almost lose it when you glance over.

‘I missed the sound of your skin against cotton’

The other drivers beside you barely wait when the light turns green, eager to drive away from the crazy person screaming inside of her car.

*

Over the next few months, it’s the same old story. You guys pick up on conversation over text for a week or two before eventually letting it die out, only to pick back up again several weeks later. Sometimes, the talks get deep, sometimes they remain lighthearted and noncommittal. There’s even another video call or two sometimes. But you have completely returned to square one.

Of course you still go about your life as you normally do, working, dancing, hanging out with friends, occasionally going out, though you’re more reluctant to have flings now because you doubt they’ll ever live up to your experience with Nick. But you spend a lot of your time thinking about him, wondering if you’re holding out for him when you don’t need to be, annoying your friends with questions about him.

They all have their own takes on the situation, some motivated by self-growth, some motivated by clout, some motivated by adventure, but in the end, you can’t get him out of your head and you don’t know if you want to. Your memories of your time with him still feel so fresh and your body still craves for a man to treat you as well as he did.

It’s not like you haven’t tried going on a date or two in the meantime, but it’s just so hard to hold up to that standard that you now have. No one makes you feel as euphoric or special as Nick did when he came to visit you. Honestly, who could ever begin to compare? The dude flew to another country to come see you. What could some regular dude possibly do to impress you on a first date anymore?

You’ve been in the same section of this maze in your head for too long, which is why you decide to take your upcoming vacation on your own. Maybe what you need is some alone time, away from all the familiar friends and restaurants and advice and places that remind you of when you brought Nafla there. You’re going to take your two week vacation and go backpacking somewhere new, somewhere fresh. Somewhere that will give you a whole new state of mind.

“That’s pretty noble of you, to just take an adventure to yourself and commit to it.” Your friend comments when you explain your plans to the group.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone while you’re traveling around.” Another suggests. “A new man or new friend or whoever they may be.”

“I sure hope so. Do you think that if I talk to random strangers at a bar about Nick that they’ll all give me different advice?” You wonder.

“I don’t think traveling with the intention to get advice for your love life is the best way to approach your trip.” Another friend deadpans, “But that would be interesting to see the differences in opinion.”

“Also, you have to remember, if you do this, it has to be about you.” Another friend reminds you, “If he happens to hit you up during the trip or he asks about it, don’t let him pull anything crazy.”

You snort, “And by crazy, you mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.” She retorts, “He flew out to see you once. Who’s to say he won’t do it again? He’s just going to mess with your head, I’m telling you.”

“That’s not going to happen, I won’t let it.” You assure your friends, who all give you skeptical looks or just look away while sipping their drinks. “I’m serious! This is going to be my vacation, and I’m not going to let it get ahead of me this time. I mean it.”

Your friends exchange looks with each other before turning to you, “If you say so.”

*

All goes as planned. You land in Budapest to kick off your trip, then make your way up to Bratislava, Vienna, and then Prague. It’s tougher than you thought it would be traveling alone without a guide or being fluent in all the different languages of the places you visit, but you make do. And you make an adventure of it.

You spend your days hiking mountains, walking through old neighborhoods, visiting cathedrals and museums, eating at bistros and drinking at bars, talking to all kinds of people, evening booking a tour or lesson every so often. It’s all a bit overwhelming just traveling to a new place every two or three days and getting reaccustomed to each new city, but it’s refreshing. And it keeps your mind occupied.

For the first week.

‘Hey are you on vacation right now?’

You get the text while you’re in Poznan, enjoying your third St Martin’s croissant that day at a nice cafe near your hostel. First, your heart stops, because you can already hear your friends’ voices in the back of your head telling you not to do it. And they get louder as you unlock your phone and open the messaging app, but before you realize it, your reply is sent.

‘Yeah! On a small Europe tour this time’  

‘Nice. I saw your pics on IG. Looks cool’ His response appears immediately.

But this is fine, you continue to text him for a few minutes and update each other as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary.

‘Where are you gonna be in a few days?’ He asks.

‘Depends. I’ll be in a couple other cities in Poland for a bit, but I’m gonna fly to a city in Latvia for the last leg of my trip’

Your heart beats as you wait for the next message, and it bursts when you see it actually appear.

‘Can I come join you?’

*

You should not be doing this.

You should not have gotten caught up in the excitement of his request and eagerly planned out the details for his arrival. You should not have cancelled your reservation at a guesthouse and agreed to stay with him in a hotel. You should not have put so much effort into your appearance when you’ve just been bumming it for most of this trip and prioritizing comfort and ease. And you most certainly should not be getting frisky with him on this taxi ride to the hotel.

“Nick— Nick, wait. Mmph—“ You pull away as he kisses you.

“I missed hearing you say my name like that.” He chuckles, kissing your cheek and rubbing at your thigh before moving back to his own space in the backseat.

“Oh my god, chill.” You laugh back, “I missed you too, though.”

When he just smiles and holds your hand in response, your cheeks can’t take it and you just direct your gaze out the window instead. You’re so warm and your heart is pounding like crazy in your chest. You wonder if he can feel your pulse in your wrist right now.

After leading him to the room you booked — since you had arrived in Riga first — he sets his stuff down and pins you to the edge of the bed, and just kisses you. He kisses you for a while, slowly, tenderly, like he’s making up for lost time. And he does that several times, only taking small breaks to breathe and look into your eyes before coming right back in.

And he keeps it rather chaste — with his hands at least. They remain on your hips, occasionally rubbing at them and your butt, but he doesn’t move them anywhere too rated. His lips however, they’re taking you on a ride that you didn’t even know you had been waiting in line for. You feel like you’re in a movie, reuniting with your true love after years apart due to war or something. He actually kisses you just that passionately.

At some point, you realize you’ve been laid down on the bed and Nafla rests on top of you, like he’s unable to remove his lips from yours. You’re beginning to realize that you never enjoyed kissing any guy as much as you’ve enjoyed kissing him. You could probably do this for hours, and you’re fairly sure he would let you. How are you supposed to not fall even deeper for him like this?

“Nick…” You sigh, eyes totally glazed over when he next pulls away from you.

“Ugh, you oughta know you shouldn’t be calling my name like that.” He groans into your neck, finally starting to rub himself against you.

You hum in pure delight, absolutely high off of this affection and pleasure and company. It’s like you’re finally being properly touched again. “Maybe… Maybe we should hold off for now.” You shiver, voice still shaky from excitement.

“Sure, that’s probably a good idea.” He groans in his low, sexy voice before lifting himself off of you to stand again.

You two take a few minutes to get your minds and bodies settled before pulling your belongings together in the room and discussing where to go for lunch. Since neither of you are feeling particularly peckish yet, you decide to go buy some food to bring with you on a picnic near the lake.

Nafla looks up good foods to try out while you navigate where the central market is. And as you’re shopping, it feels like a domestic getaway with your dream man more and more. He jumps and rides on the shopping cart like a kid, debates with you on what drinks to buy, feeds you samples, and attacks you with surprise back hugs. All you’re waiting for is for some old person nearby to ask how long you’ve been married for.

About an hour or so later, you both get off the bus and trek through the forest of Beberbeku Lake until you find an area with some wooden benches and tables. You sit beside each other on the same bench after you set up all the food and drinks, and Nafla tries feeding you again, which you turn away this time in favor of eating what you actually want to eat.

“You need to put some veggies in your body, even if you’re on vacation.” You insist.

“I barely saw any vegetables in the market; clearly the diet here is built on protein.” He argues back. “And pickles.”

To emphasize his point, he tries to stick one of the pickles from the jar the grocer recommended in your face. “Stop it, I don’t want your pickle.” You reject him with the tone of the child.

“Really? I thought you liked my pickle.” He takes the opening for the lewd joke. “Or was all the screaming last time from all the veggies you ate?”

“You shut the fuck up!” You scoff, smacking him in the arm, “Don’t turn a cute picnic into something dirty.”

“Oh please, you’d like it.” He chuffs, smiling as he takes the pickle back.

“That’s beside the point.”

“Is it?” He challenges.

“Anyway!” You interrupt the flow of this conversation before anyone nearby starts to listen in, “How’d you get permission for a getaway so soon anyway? Don’t you have shows to do?”

“Yeah, but everyone needs a break every so often, despite how we all rap about no days off.” He slides his arm around your waist to keep you close to him while he eats with his other hand, “So I convinced the team to let me have these couple of days between shows to enjoy myself.”

“That’s sustainable.” You comment, pulling out a piece of rye bread and smearing it with an herby butter you found in the market. “Have you ever thought about coming here on your own? Or for a show?”

It’s still hard to believe that you’re able to converse so casually with Nafla of MKIT RAIN like you’re old friends, or an old couple. But he just makes it so easy for you by accepting all of your energy and rallying it back to you. You suppose that’s what makes it so hard to turn away from him.

You absolutely love this connection you have with Nick, and you can tell that he enjoys being with you too, when he is with you. And despite what your friends warned you about and what you also know may emerge from this, you still want to enjoy the time that you get with him — simply because he took the time to come see you. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be.

The intention and sincerity behind it all is a completely different story, but for now, you allow yourself this indulgence. Traveling really becomes so much better when you’re with a companion — especially one that you get to make out with.

So for the next few days, you explore Riga with Nick beside you, taking pictures, walking through cathedrals and churches, interacting with people at bars, hiking through forests and mountains, everything you had been doing before with a new facet to your vacation. Nick always provides fun conversation, or a comfy shoulder to rest on, and he treats you to a lot of the things the city has to offer this time.

It’s the time of your life, honestly. You dance along with street performers, you attend a music event together, you eat and drink all kinds of new and strange things, and of course, you have a lot of sex. It’s physically impossible for you and Nick not to get down and dirty when the day comes to an end in your hotel room. If you’re honest, you think that that might actually be the highlight of any day.

Which also makes you wonder again — is that what he’s here for? Sex and a good time? A private getaway? And can you blame him for that when you’re still here lapping up the attention and affection he gives you? You don’t know how you should approach this anymore because when it comes down to it, you don’t even know what you want from him.

Commitment? That’s probably going to be the hardest no you’ll ever get smacked with. He’s young and in his prime, and having a committed significant other would bring about all kinds of complications.

His intention? If he tells you that he doesn’t want anything serious from you, would you still be willing to provide that occasional fling for him? Can your heart continue to handle all the mind games and unanswered anticipation?

A clean cut? Say worse comes to worst, you end up never speaking to him ever again. It’s the absolute last thing you want, especially after you feel like you’ve gotten close to him, but maybe you should follow your friends’ and family’s advice to just enjoy what you had with him, but put it behind you. Maybe it’s just not meant to be.

But… you can’t help but hold out that small hope that, maybe — just maybe — he would want something more. Maybe he did put all this effort into keeping in contact with you and flying out to see you because he genuinely likes you. And maybe one day, if he does decide to settle down, he would choose you.

Because if you lay it all out, and if it were all up to you, you would choose him. You would choose to keep what you have. You would. Even with the distance, even if he’s fucking other chicks on the side, even if you don’t talk for weeks on end. If he would be willing to keep you in his heart, you would wait for him.

You would. You really like him. You like him as Nicholas Choi now, not just Nafla of MKIT RAIN. He’s more than just a famous rapper to you now; the two of you have history. He’s more familiar with your body now than the majority of the men you’ve been with before. And you like how sweet he is, how he’s humble, and focused, and goal-oriented, and how he treats you well even with all the success that he’s had up until now.

Now that you’ve come to this realization, you sigh knowing what you have to do. You can’t put this off like you did last time. You’ve known since then that he’s someone special and that you won’t be able to easily get him off your mind if you keep playing head games with yourself like this.

So on the last night of your trip, the night before Nick has to leave in the morning, you stop him when he tries to pull you on his lap on the bed. If you had more patience, you would just fuck him for one more night and tell him in the morning, but it’s been eating at you all day and you can’t run from your own thoughts anymore. “Nick, wait.”

“Is something wrong?” He looks around your face, searching for signs of distress.

“It’s not so much wrong, as it is…” You pull away from him and sit cross-legged on the bed in front of him, “Confusing.”

He blinks at you, looking like he knows what’s coming, like maybe he’s been waiting for this moment to come. So he adjusts his own sitting position to face you, “What is?”

You take a deep breath and run your hand through your hair, giving yourself a moment, “Look, Nick. These past few days have been incredible. And last time when you came to visit me, incredible. I really enjoyed spending all this time with you and having fun with you like this.”

“Yeah, me too.” He agrees.

“Right.” You nod, “But… I don’t know if I can keep doing this anymore. At least, not without knowing what you’re actually thinking.”

Nick nods like he understands, looking away for a moment before returning his eyes to you, “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“I think you can guess.” You say, rubbing at your knee nervously, “I like you. A lot. A whole fucking lot. And… I like how I feel when I’m with you, and all the effort you put into coming to see me again. But I don’t know if I can just keep acting like I’m your girlfriend a couple days of the year when I’m just stuck in my feelings for the rest of the year, wondering if you like me back.”

He continues to nod slowly as you talk, his eyes and body language starting to become more closed off. That doesn’t look good for you.

But he takes the responsibility upon himself to give you an answer, at least, “I do like you. I really do. Every moment that I’ve had with you, it’s been real. That much is true, I swear to you.”

You nod, understanding. And then bracing yourself for what’s to come next. “I’m sorry if I’ve been… stressing you out. I guess I got so caught up in how much fun I was having that I didn’t think about how you may have been feeling. I genuinely like you, and I like what we have, but the last thing I want is to put you through pain because of me. So…”

You can feel your body tensing to brace for impact. Here goes nothing.

“If you’ve had enough that pain, then I totally understand. But I’m going to be honest and tell you I’m not ready for anything serious.”

You nod again, suddenly feeling a prickle of heat behind your eyes that you hadn’t been expecting. But you listen as he continues, “You are so amazing, and maybe if things were different, I’d be with you in a heartbeat.”

“You say that to all the girls you fuck around the world?” You chuckle in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere, and distract from the tears forming in your eyes.

“You’re the only one I’ve flown across the world to see, I swear.” He smiles. Well, that does make you feel a little better. Flattered, at the very least. “Actually, you’re the only person I’ve met for a one night thing that I’ve kept talking to. I never had any idea that we’d be where we are now.”

It’s too late, the tears have already formed. One falls down your face when you blink, but you still smile, happy about what you’re hearing. “Guess this whole thing would’ve turned out differently if you actually had a condom that first night.” You laugh with a sniffle, wiping at your face.

“Yeah,” Nick chuckles, bringing a hand up to swipe a few tears off your face with his own thumb. “But I don’t regret any of it. I’m glad I met you, and that we’ve done all this. I’ll probably write a song about you one day.”

You break out in a laugh at that one, but tears still fall from your eyes, ironically enough. “Thanks, I guess. I mean…” you try to find the right words to say while your heart and mind are so scrambled up, “I’ll still like you, and I’m fine with that. But I just needed to know so that my heart isn’t… holding out for you when you know that it’s not gonna become anything.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry.” He puts his hand on top of yours and wipes at more of your tears with his other hand.

“I’ll be fine. Eventually.” You take a deep breath. “But, if I ever see you again, I don’t think I can do this again.”

“Nah, I get that.” He nods.

“If you want, I can still be your friend though,” you offer, “If you ever need anything from me, just ask. Although I doubt you’ll need anything from me.” You chuckle.

“That’d be cool.”

“But… Just don’t contact me for a bit. I think I need some time to clear my head.” You request.

“Of course.” He agrees, then opens his arms for a hug, which you accept. And you take your sweet time in his arms, remembering his scent, his touch, his skin. It may very well be your last time.

When you pull away, you sigh as you look at him, “Do you still wanna have a romp? I’d be down to give you that much.”

“No, we don’t have to.” He smiles, “I don’t want all this to be too much for you.”

“It’s okay, I want to.” You insist, slowly rubbing a hand along his leg, “I wouldn’t give up the chance to fuck Nick Choi one last time.”

He laughs, and that smile makes your heart light up. You’re going to miss it like crazy, you can already feel it. But for now…

“Okay, then. Come here.” He lifts you into his lap, gently rubbing at your back until you come down to kiss him. He’s extra soft and sweet this time, and it just squeezes at your heart even more.

“Ugh, that mouth of yours is dangerous.” You grunt when you pull away.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles.

“Yeah.” You retort with a little attitude, but still playfully, “You kiss a girl like you love her, how do you expect her not to fall for you?”

He only offers you a curious hum before kissing you again and rolling you over to lie on top of you, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Not at all.”

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t stop all night long.

#nafla x reader #nafla #nicholas choi #nicholas choi x reader #khiphop scenario #mkit rain #situationship #hate me if you want but i like this ending #tho there may or may not be a sequel one day #mine #nafla scenario

[angelmichelangelo]

watergators end of 2018 fic masterpost!

tuesday: domestic mishap when dan causes phil to drop his phone into his thai green curry

curve of the water: phil wants to propose but is waiting for the right time

all my hours for you: dan leaves with his phone on silent, so phil waits for him to come home

a new blue: the build up to when dan meets phil, and dan is questioning his sexuality

pitter patter: dan and phil discuss the possibility of babies

phil of the future: phil writes a letter in 2018 to himself in 2028

same happy future: phil wants a baby with floppy brown hair and bold blue eyes and a dimpled smile and his own sense of humour. but phil cant have that. because phil cant have a baby with dan

that’s so us: dan and phil aren’t all about big fancy dates or over the top ways of saying 'i love you' but still sticking to their tradition of being dan and phil, this year is a little different

long train is long: on the morning of october 19th 2009, eighteen year old dan steps on the train to manchester to chase his moon river

kiss me here, there: with dan dressed in his new sequin jacket and his gold hoop earrings, phil wishes he could reach over and kiss him in the middle of the party; but he can’t

he’s his mother’s son after all: dan visits phil's family on mother's day whilst feeling depressed

pebble for a heart; storm for a brain: when a small tragedy happens, dan and phil take a weekend away to a town with a beach. dan has feelings, phil cant help them

itchy: dan has an allergic reaction to his shirt and phil is there to make him feel better

yeah it’s cheesy: why did dan ever think that turning up to a party in a cheese costume was ever a good idea?

breakfast sausage: a morning whilst on tour

ghost of a kiss: "are you two twins by chance?" she asks curiously. and dan replies too quickly. because dan has a fear

him. : dan returns from his week at phil's where his parents are waiting for an explanation

pay me in kisses: dan dyes phil's hair

hot love: dan falls asleep with his laptop on top of him after sex

like a fire: phil is having a bad day on tour and he takes it out on dan

marble lobby: dan and phil meet in a hotel lobby; dan has sun stroke and phil has sun burn

this life: dan bumps into his ex girlfriend in sainsburys on a thursday evening

ease your mind: it starts with a lump. and it begins a new type of anxiety within phil

bump in the night: a car crashes into the side of the tour bus during the night

WORST DATE NIGHT EVER: I'm live on YouNow! Come hang out with Dan and I as we tell you the story of the worst date night ever (warning: you may suffer from some second hand embarrassment so watch at your own risk!)

grapes and medicine: dan hurts his foot whilst on the bus and phil is there to make him feel better

averagely enough: dan's dad unexpectedly texts him whilst on tour

a forever home is a home with you: dan and phil look for their forever home

new zealand during six am: dan and phil wake up early during their first day in new zealand to get some laundry done

loving you: dan sleeps for two days straight and phil misses his boyfriend

champagne by the bar: dan and phil have a romantic skiing vacation together. it doesn't exactly go as dan had planned

on this beach with you: dan, phil, martyn and cornelia go to a beach in australia. dan is feeling particularly in love today

up and up: it's early 2009. phil lester is a 22 year old who is single and has casual sex with one of friends. then one day a boy named dan comes along and things begin to change

say your confessions: dan and phil go to a bar in india

twenty ten: phil wakes up in dan's house on new years day, 2010

lay with me here: dan and phil are both feeling exhausted once the tour is over

ellen: dan has a heart to heart talk to his and phil's six month pregnant surrogate, ellen

mind your manners: dan (kinda) comes out to his brother

two red strings: phil just wants a lazy sunday

fried egg pants: dan demands new pants

devil on my chest: dan experiences sleep paralysis

what dawn brings us: after the events of a devastating apocalypse, dan and phil learn that in order to survive, they must leave the comfort of their home and venture out into the new changed world to start their lives over. together.

take care: dan and phil return from the hospital

december fic advent 2018 series: a fic everyday leading up to december 25th!

meet me at red dragon: phil lester is a single 31 year old with a wild eight year old, ethan. dan howell is single 27 year old with a quiet five year old, noah. when they meet at their son's swim lessons, for some reason phil can't get the pretty brown eyed stranger out of his head.

#HOO BOY thats a lot of fics!! #phanfiction #fanfiction #dan and phil #phan #phandom #also just wanna say tysm for everyone who helped me and supported me this year with my fics #it really means a lot <3

[thedivinemsem]

Observations of Older Folks

I want to start by asking that no one reading this take offense - I’m not referring to any of you.

So I began my retirement by flying to South Carolina so that I could help drive a car back up here for the summer.  My friend’s parents recently sold their house and moved into a senior living complex - and as part of the trip I got to visit them in their new place.  Now, I’ve got a couple of friends who live in “over 55″ communities - and I’ve contemplated making the move myself.  

But this was different - very different.   This place takes all of your worries away - your monthly fee includes utilities, maid service, a meal allowance, and a driver to take you to appointments if you can’t or don’t want to drive yourself.  The building has a front desk with concierge service, a beautifully appointed lobby, and as they took me around there was an indoor pool, an art room, a billiards/game room, and an activity center with a full time staff member to organize and run said activities.  I gather he doubles as a personal trainer- at least I remember hearing a comment about my friends mom having better posture because of his services.

And along with all that were either two or three restaurants.  One was a pub/bar - one a bit nicer and I think there was a third that was more of a casual daytime snack/salad place.  They were no different than regular restaurants except that you didn’t “pay” or “tip” - instead the charges were applied to your room.

There were six of us for dinner......we sat down, the waitress gave us menus, and a couple of folks quickly ordered wine.  While we were waiting, there was discussion of the food available...and when the waitress came back, she ran through the specials for everyone - some of which sounded pretty good.

Now, if you have ever eaten with older people - then you have probably noticed that nothing happens quickly in Oldland.  For example - deciding what to eat often involves a lengthy discussion with the server...first determining the best choice - perhaps repeating the specials to ensure nothing is missed. Then there are almost always modifications required to the standard menu item.....and the final decision as to what to drink with the meal.  There is also the polite social interaction that is required especially since its the same waitstaff each night - how are you - how is (school / your family /insert whatever here) going?, etc.  

The total set of interactions takes several minutes per person - lets go with 4 as an average.  So when you have six people at a table - it can take 20 minutes or more to get the orders all placed.  

None of that is a problem for me - and I imagine the waitstaff is used to the pace and perhaps they even welcome it as a change from the usual rush of their profession.  

What I found interesting is that the older people seemed totally oblivious to how long it took them to perform their part of the equation....yet they quickly voiced their discontent with the speed of the waitstaff service.  A couple of folks came over to our table to ask if our service was as bad as theirs....and I heard one man announce that he was cancelling his order because he refused to wait any longer.

Now, I won’t say the service was particularly good.....the kitchen seemed to take longer than I would have expected - not all the food came out at once and I believe some drink orders were missed.  But  the staff was quick to apologize and make the necessary corrections, and I’ve certainly had worse dining experiences at places where I was still expected to tip.  (No tips here - at least I didn’t see any left).

Part of the reason I wrote this blog is because I found it funny - the “grumpy old man” is not just a stereotype.  But the other part is hopefully to remind myself not to ever become one of those people from Oldland. :)

#oldpeople dinner retirement

[docholligay]

She is a Diamond

A release from the Patreon vaults! @madegeeky was given a fic gift for New Year's from a very fine sponsor (Whose name I gave to geeky privately in case she didn't want to be revealed) and this was her prompt to me:

“And you, my glittering girl, are a diamond. Stone cannot love flesh. It can only bruise and break it." ---apparently a line form both me and Carmilla teaming up, as Jet pointed out.

Anyway, 2000 words, I hope you enjoy!

Michiru did not think herself sulky, in the least, and any sulkiness she might have had as a child had been taken out of her through good manners and etiquette and the gleaming veneer of perfection she was forced to put over everything, a white coat of paint covering every chip and crack and mural that might be there, leaving only a plain perfect base of elegant nothingness.

All that being true, there was a certain kind of low hurt and anger that settled in her whenever Haruka was treated cruelly by her family, and if they were so uncharitable as to call it sulkiness, she was plenty happy to take up that particular mantle.  

She’d left, tonight. She didn’t always. No, sometimes, she stayed through the assault, sometimes she would nibble on crostini as Michiru’s mother and father and siblings all fenced with the subjects of her education, her class, her occupation.

Oh, they have a problem with you being a lesbian? People asked, guessing at what the problem might be, and oh, if it were only that banal. They had a half dozen young women to line her up with, all of the appropriate breeding and the appropriate emptiness, vases to be filled with the flower of the seasons.

The party had ended, and Michiru pretended to be very interested in one of the lilies perched in a cold crystal vase, waiting for leave to be given, to return to her home with Haruka, that penthouse her parents threatened to take away whenever she displeased them, the trust fund and the cars and the very life that offered the only thing she truly had to give Haruka: A promise that she would never again know hunger, that she would wear new clothes.

“Michiru, my dear.” Her mother’s voice was firm and flowing and in French, a woman proud of the sense of the exotic she brought to the Kaiohs, the daughter of a fine textiles merchant who had raised her children in Japan and on the continent and never allowed them to belong to either.

“Yes?” She did not look up, simply pretended to be re-arranging the flower, the way she had been taught in her finishing lessons.

“I trust you will have a cordial with us in the salon. To close out the evening. I daresay the party was a rousing success.”

“Oh, I don’t know, mother,” She gave a weak smile, “I’m feeling rather tired, and must beg off to retire.”

Her mother returned the calculated smile. “Please don’t think me simple, Michiru. You’ve been sulking since that girl took her leave.”

“Her name is Haruka.” She crossed her arms. “We have been together for better than a year, and at some point you and father will need to simply accept that. This...casual cruelty, and whatever amusement you derive from it, will have to cease, unless your wish is to make every party ever after a testament to awkwardness.”

Her mother took a took a hydrangea and arranged it next Michiru’s lily. “My dear girl, I know you are of a certain age, and rebellion is a very tempting affair at this time in your life, but it can only bring ruin.”

“It would not bring ruin, if you and father were not so given to unkindness.”

“Perhaps you are unkind in your own way, Michiru,” Her mother looked at her, “To bring her into this world. To bring her to you.”

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“Haruka is, I assume, a good girl. She probably watches baseball, and drinks beer with her friends, and reads car magazines and all such manner of things. I’m sure she is very sweet, and I have seen the way she looks at you. She does adore you.”

“But you, my glittering girl, are not like them. You have never been like them and you will never be like them. They are lovely, average, people. You, Michiru, are a diamond. You are a crown jewel, unique and talented and poised and cut and shined into such finery. You know this to be true, you are no great fool. You have known this all of your life.”

Michiru looked down at the wood of the table, suddenly interested in the way the grain flowed across the table.

“A stone cannot love flesh, Michiru. It can only bruise and break it.” She gave a chuckle. “Can you really not see that is all you shall do with her, in the end?” She shook her head. “You act as if you are the first woman of breeding on earth to fall in love below your station. It’s a cliche, Michiru.You would do well to note how those stories end.”

Michiru was not unaccustomed to trading barbs with her mother. Too much alike, maybe, her father had once opined, and the thought of it, and that terrifying shiver in the back of her mind that it might be true, haunted her still. Early on in life, she had discovered she was hardly going to fit in, and so she may as well lean into it, and while her brother Ryuji had tried to prove himself to be the most Japanese boy who ever lived, and simply tolerated his fencing lessons, Michiru had sighed through her tea ceremony lessons and asked to take traditional sommelier technique as a reward.

Maybe it was that Ryuji had been so good at being perfectly Japanese, and she hated him.

Maybe it was that she was so good at being perfectly French, and he hated that.

Maybe it was that no one in either place would ever let them be both. God knows Naoko had tried, that sad middle sister who simply managed to make a pig’s ear of both cultures.

In any case, Michiru thought, very often the whys of how our lives turned out were irrelevant to the reality of them. She was a strange diamond in this land, who knew now that she could not leave it for Paris as she’d planned when she came of age, who was trapped here by her duty and now foisted upon the country as a whole.

The Hope Diamond was French once too, wasn’t it? Beautiful and glittering and cursed, only fit to sit in a museum and never be owned by flesh.

“Michiru,” Her mother called her out of the docent’s tour of her childhood, “I tell you this from my own experience, you know that, yes?”

She had not, and yet it seemed foolish that she had not considered it. The tiny voice, the one in the back of her head that said she was just like her mother, laughed and whispered its terrible prophecy, the one that saw her marrying a fine girl and living in a penthouse so much like this one, the one that saw Haruka marrying a girl like her, a perfect blue collar wife who would laugh with her coworkers in dark bars over beer and snacks.

The one that said her mother was right all along.

“In any case, if you were seeking my leave, you have it,” She nodded at Michiru, “I will tell the others you’re a bit tired. But think on what I have said Michiru. However long you intend to toy with the simple girl, a fish cannnot fly with a bird, however it tries. She will never be like you.”

“Goodnight, Mother.” Michiru walked to the entryway, on autopilot as one of her servants helped her into her coat and called down for the car to take her home, whatever home was, just a place where she lived with the girl they all felt temporary.

It did not matter if she was in herself or not, as she was driven. Driven. Taken. She was a passenger in her own life, under glass, and maybe it was true what Mina had said of her, that she had never known what pain was, really, in her life, and so she’d never understand Haruka, not ever, and all the bringing Haruka bags of groceries and buying her clothes would never change that, it’d just make it more obvious to Haruka that Michiru didn’t know what it was like not to have those things.

It had been said in anger, but that didn’t make it untrue.

The car came to a stop in front of the fine apartment building with her fine apartment where the girl she was destined to destroy lived full time now, no longer carting a bag back and forth between Michiru’s upscale palace and the tiny place she shared with a mother that never noticed if she was there or not.

Parents that noticed every movement, and parents that noticed nothing at all, and the both of them feeling all the more unloved for it. What a pair.

Michiru paused outside the apartment building, the drizzle on her skin shining with the light of the streetlights, forcing that diamond sparkle to come alive, the glitter in that cold and painful way and show every facet of what she was.

The driver was still waiting, and she stepped inside the lobby.

“Good evening, Miss Kaioh.” A recorded response by those of the flesh, those who would never know what it was to be carved, a block with all that was not wanted stripped away to make you into a beautiful thing, cold and perfect.

She nodded, the only thing she could think to do. That had been carved, too, and she blended into the marble of the lobby as she walked through it, the pale of her skin becoming marked by the grey straitions of beautiful, perfect stone. As she stepped into the elevator and nodded to the attendant, the one whose name Haruka knew but Michiru realized she did not remember, she felt her hair intertwine with the wrought brass of the elevator door, following its curves and whorls perfectly, elegant and cold.

She touched the cool metal of the doorknob to her home, all a part of her, her purse hung on the wrought iron rack, which smiled beneath her hand, the travertine beneath her feet bending to its sister. The silk of her nightgown cushioned the gem of her body, keeping it from the slightest smudge or fingerprint, never a thing to be touched.

The bedroom door was still open a crack, the light peering into it, just a beam through the darkness.

Haruka lay asleep on the bed, the rain beading on the window, those same treacherous streetlights covering her body with a thousand tiny bruises in perfect circles. Glittering and bruised, two of a pair, but not two of a kind.

She sat down on the bed next to her, the plush of it cushioning each facet. Haruka rolled over and mumbled sleepily, her hand resting on Michiru’s knee, the warmth of it running through Michiru like Celopatra’s snakebite, a poison desperately desired.

Could her mother ever know what they had been through together? The fear, and then the love, and then Michiru, oh she had already broken Haruka to save her, and she touched the raised scar on her chest as she thought of it, that one way in which they were, in fact, matched.

Her mother had given her the number of a plastic surgeon. She had tossed it away. There was something, something, that she and Haruka would ever share.

She reached over and ran her fingers through Haruka’s hair, the boyish softness of it drawing her in, and she snuggled in next to Haruka, placing her hand in Haruka’s. There were callouses there, drawn across her palm. She was used to handling rough objects, wasn’t she?

Haruka sighed against her and pulled her closer. “I love you.”

Michiru touched the soft flesh of her cheek. Even the Velveteen Rabbit became real, once loved enough. So who was to say it was not beyond her, under the strength of Haruka’s belief.

Perhaps a fish could not fly with a bird. But she was the sailor of the sea.

#a holligay joint #i hated thus when i wrote it but now i rather like it

[chocolatemillkk]

Super Close (JS)

Request: Ok would you be able to do an imagine thats after the one your did with joe and the song Super Far but its like a year later or something right and hes finally moving on and he likes a new girl but he has a hard time trusting her cuz he had bad experiences but the girl teaches him to trust in love again. i know its weird cuz both girls are y/n lol but pretty please do this? love your writing btw!

A/N: so. I know you sent this like a looong time ago but I just had it on hold for a while. It would be weird considering both love interests are supposed to be the reader but the part about healing from a toxic relationship intrigued me! So I've written something up for it, I hope it's to your liking. Everyone heals differently I just wrote it this way for a quick imagine. Sorry for the wait!

I met Y/N a couple weeks ago when Caspar convinced me to go on a blind date. It was almost approaching nine months since I'd had my last relationship-if you could call it that. It was an unhealthy relationship, I see that now in retrospect. We weren't right for each other and it took me months to come out from that. And I have it to thank for all the confusing issues and insecurities it's left me with. That was why I'd said no to Caspar. But he brought it up every time he saw me until I said yes.

That evening I put in the effort to wear a clean shirt and style my hair from the usual bedhead it's gotten into-I needed a haircut. I was ten minutes early so I found a corner table to wait and scanned the menu to pass the time, thinking about the video I was planning on editing when I got home.

She arrived right on time, I caught sight of her as the waiter led her to the table and I suddenly felt like an idiot. I had thought Caspar was the one not taking this seriously and just setting me up with a rebound girl. But I was the idiot not taking it seriously enough because my date stopped me dead in my seat.

"Here's your table miss," the waiter says, nodding at me before heading back.

"Hey-hi," I scramble from my chair when my legs finally work again. "Joe."

"Hey, Y/N." She leans into my hug and she smells like what I imagine the beach to smell like. "Caspar has spoken nothing but praise for you. He's honestly been talking about you since I met up with him a few weeks ago."

I feel flushed as I sit back down. "He was probably exaggerating. I'm just an average-well...Joe."

I want to pinch myself and I wait for her to roll her eyes but she laughs at my joke instead. She laughs despite the dad factor of the joke and it spark wamrth in my chest towards her.

"I feel a little guilty for doing it so I want to just come outright and say I looked your channel up and watched a few of your latest video. Blame Caspar though-he was going on about you."

Her eyes crinkle as she pretends to cringe at what she's said but I'm surprised to hear that she'd done it and actually admitted to it-my last girlfriend didn't watch any of my videos.

"So then you know I can be an idiot-I don't have to lie until our third date," I say.

"Babe, don't lie on my account. I'll confess I can be an idiot too. The other day I was trying to tap my Sephora card on the underground and I was nearly in tears when it wouldn't work until I turned the little slip around and saw it was the wrong card." She laughs at herself as she opens the menu up and I do too-feeling the nerves shake off. I feel brave enough that I share an embarassing story of my own from taking an Uber here.

When the waiter comes by I take the few moments to watch her decide from the menu. She tucks her hair behind her ears and her eyes are so expressive as she listens to what the waiter recommends.

"Any drinks?" He asks us. Y/N looks at me and we both know the answer-we could already feel the familiarity between us so we could tell it would be a long night.

"Maybe a bottle?" I say and she bites her lip to keep from laughing.

We'd polished the bottle and gone back to my place after and talked until 3 in the morning. That was when she remembered she had work at 8 and left in a rush. Since we were both busy, we hadn't spent as much time as we wanted to together. But every moment with her was gentle and therapeutic but exciting. I looked forward to each moment.

Tonight was a Friday night and I planned on surprising her.

Y/N worked in the financial district and I wait in the lobby of her building. The women are dressed so similarily that I almost miss her but it's like she radiated a warmth I just couldn't miss.

"Y/N," I shout, forgetting this was where she worked. She turns and sidesteps a man who brushes past her with a scowl. I wave my arm and she spots me, her face morphing into delight as she hurries forward.

"Joe! What are you doing here?" She gives me a hug.

"I thought I'd surprise you, I wanted to see you." I say, suddenly feeling self-conscious as her mouth hangs open and she glances back. "Are you busy? Sorry I should have asked first...if you've got some other plans we can just hang out on Saturday? It's alright-"

"It's not that," she puts her hand on my arm which shuts my rambling off. She turns around again, "I just had to run an errand after work but I'm free otherwise! I just...don't know if you wanted to come with me for a manicure?"

"A manicure?" I ask. "You're getting your nails done? I don't mind. I have a sister remember? I've actually had to help her glue glitter onto her nails when I was younger." I feel a humongous sense of relief that she wasn't angry and that I wouldn't be hanging out on my own tonight.

"Really?" She laughs, gripping my arm. "Okay, you're literally my favourite person right now! I tried to convince my coworker to come with me but she hates that kind of thing. You might have to wait a bit but I've got an appointment so not too long..."

I go along as she chatters on and then ask her about her day. It's a short walk to the salon and once inside I pull up a chair beside where she gets her nails done and tell her about what I was up to.

"So what did you have planned?" She asks once we step out.

Shit, I realise I hadn't actually planned anything and I feel my anxiety spike. "What were you in the mood for?" I risk asking.

"I don't mind anything really," she says casually. "I've had a long day so I'm alright with even just going somewhere chill."

"Want to go back to mine?"

"That sounds perfect," she agrees and I'm surprised again with how easy it was with her. If I suggested a night in to my last girlfriend she would have pouted until I agreed to go to a club or a pub or wherever there was music and booze and other men. Y/N seemed to just be happy to spend time with me, just like I was with her.

"Shit you're probably hungry," I say once we reach my flat.

"Sort of," she admits. "But don't feel bad!"

"Did you want to get takeaway?" I suggest.

"I might raid your fridge first," she squeezes past me and into the kitchen. I watch her pull out a few ingredients.

"What are you up to?" I ask.

"Dinner," she looks through my cupboard. "We may as well if you've got all these ingredients."

"I can do that," I move towards where she stands. "Just grab a drink and relax or something."

"I'm alright!" Y/N insists. She takes the garlic from my hands and places it back on the counter. "I'm going to make you dinner."

"At my house? There's no need," I try to reach for the cutting board but she slips it away. "Really Y/N let me make dinner if-"

"Joe," she places a hand on my chest. "I want to make you dinner."

I feel slightly embarassed at the fact that her hand on my chest can feel my heart which beats erratically. The last time I tried to do this for a girl, it resulted in the ingredients for pizza splattered on the floor and many tears. My old girlfriend would never offer to cook for me and never acknowledged it when I took the time to cook for her. The one time she did was to prove a point to me which led to the argument when I found out she was only doing it because she was going to break some bad news to me.

But as I look into Y/N's concerned face, I realise that I need to leave the past where it belongs. Y/N wasn't my past but a bright future and a perfect present.

"Sorry," I apologise for the fuss I was making. I hold the hand against my chest. "I forget-it's hard for me to remember that I can trust people and there's no double meaning to things. That...you just want to cook me dinner because you want to cook me dinner."

Y/N closes the distance between us, "I've...put pieces together from the bits you've told me and Casp has mention. I'm sorry you had to go through something that changed you that way Joe." Tears gather on her lash line and she blinks them away. Looking at her, feeling for me and being concerned for me, I realise that all hope-and love-was not truly lost. Somehow Y/N was helping me restore my faith that I could find love again. That I could be loved again. But to test it...

I brush Y/N's cheek and lean to kiss her. I can feel the softness of her lips, the curve of them as they smile and kiss mine back. I pull away and she sighs as I move to her neck and she runs her fingers through my hair as I kiss her pulse. I can feel the blood pumping through it but the love too. I lean back and hold her face in my hands and when she looks at me her eyes shine with the same love. I reel with how much she had to give me when we hadn't even dated for long. Just because she had that kind of soul.

One person might have convinced me that no girl was ever worth it again, that putting your love and trust in a person was never worth it. But this one person standing right in front of me squashed that notion and tossed it in the trash.

I pull her to me, super close to my heart, and kiss her forhead. Whatever I had been through, if it had just led me to her love, it had been worth it.

#joe sugg #joe sugg imagine #joe sugg imagines #youtube imagines #fic #thatcherjoe imagines #thatcherjoe imagine #thatcherjoe #buttercream imagines #buttercream gang #i didnt edit this one either #im getting lazier lmao #but at least im excited to write again! #kinda scared to post this #also why do so many of my imagines deal with the KITCHEN #can you tell I think kitchens are romancy #in the right setting #like your s/o cooking for you or vice versa #or idk #anyway #i should go #also the title is cheesy af #but W/E