folklore

And Damien? Damien was casually perched in the TNTL chair, legs spread, black T-shirt tight across his chest, smirking like a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Which, of course, he did.

You were trying very hard not to look at him. Which meant you were definitely looking at him.

You leaned against the TNTL prop table, pretending to scroll on your phone, but your eyes kept drifting to the way his fingers tapped the side of the chair, how he kept glancing at you like he was daring you to say something.

He knew what today was. He’d started it.

“We should do double-entendre jokes this round,” Damien had said earlier, with that faux-innocent little shrug. “Spice things up.”

You’d made eye contact across the prep room and replied dryly, “Only if you’re ready to lose.”

Now he was in the hot seat—mouth full of water, cheeks puffed, eyes watching you as Shayne kicked things off.

“Alright,” Shayne grinned, spinning toward the camera, “today’s TNTL is all about innuendo. Damien suggested it, so naturally he’s our first target.”

Laughter rang out from around the room. Amanda made a dramatic choking noise. Angela muttered something about “digging his own grave.”

You stepped forward slowly, arms crossed but grin playful. The rest of the cast quieted—there was a known thing, a rhythm between you and Damien when you were on camera together. You matched energy too well. Knew each other's timing. You didn't plan jokes—you just vibed, and the audience loved it.

So did the cast. Even if they were now sick of how long it had gone unresolved.

You stopped just in front of him, letting the moment stretch. His eyes narrowed in amusement, but you saw it—the flicker of anticipation.

You didn’t use props. No wigs. No slapstick.

Just your voice.

You leaned in, tone low and teasing.

“You know, Damien… I really admire your stamina. Most guys can’t stay in this chair for longer than a minute.”

There was a ripple of laughter from the couches. Chanse audibly wheezed.

“I mean,” you continued, stepping closer, “holding all that in your mouth and still keeping eye contact? That’s impressive.”

You reached out and dragged two fingers slowly up the side of his knee.

The room lost it.

Damien’s cheeks ballooned as he tried not to choke. Amanda screamed. Courtney slapped the couch and yelled, “THAT’S NOT A BIT, THAT’S FOREPLAY!”

He held on—barely. You cocked your head and purred:

“I didn’t say stop me if I’m being inappropriate…”

SPIT.

He doubled forward, spraying the water in a glorious arc across the studio floor, coughing between helpless laughter.

You turned on your heel triumphantly, sauntering back toward the couch as the rest of the cast erupted.

“Oh my GOD,” Angela shouted. “Will you two PLEASE just fuck already?”

Amanda nodded solemnly. “They are legally married in the state of ‘Denial.’”

“She cheated!” Damien choked out, wiping his chin with a towel. “That wasn’t even a joke. That was emotional warfare!”

You threw him a wink. “Maybe don’t challenge someone who’s better at flirting than you.”

His expression flickered—he smiled, but his ears turned slightly red. That only made you grin wider.

Courtney took the seat reluctantly, already muttering, “I swear to God if they team up, I’m not surviving this.”

And team up you did.

You and Damien flanked her like evil improv angels, each standing on one side. He started it off smoothly:

“I walked in on Y/N the other day… Practicing with a plunger.”

Courtney’s eyes widened over puffed cheeks. You nodded solemnly.

“I like to warm up with the big tools first. Gotta keep everything… loose.”

A cough. A snort. Courtney shifted in her seat.

Damien leaned closer.

“She calls it ‘cardio with benefits.’”

Courtney exploded, water bursting from her mouth like a fire hydrant. You and Damien high-fived. Amanda fell backward onto the couch dramatically, groaning, “DOES EVERYTHING YOU SAY HAVE A SEXUAL UNDERTONE?!”

“Yes,” you and Damien said in sync.

“Let’s do one more together,” you said to Damien, grabbing two clip-on mustaches. He grinned, already playing along.

You both stood like deadpan newscasters.

“Good evening,” you began. “Tonight’s top story: Damien’s pipe has burst again.”

“That’s right, Y/N,” Damien replied. “Sources say it burst wide open after she handled it for too long.”

Shayne’s cheeks inflated comically.

“Cleanup was messy, wet, and deeply satisfying,” you added.

Shayne EXPLODED.

The studio went full chaos. You and Damien collapsed against each other in laughter.

You should’ve known this would come back to bite you.

One minute you were on fire, racking up spit takes like a flirt-powered demolition derby—and the next, someone (probably Shayne) shoved you into the TNTL throne with a wicked grin and a shout of:

“LET’S SEE IF THE TEASE CAN TAKE IT.”

Your smugness evaporated fast.

Mouth full of water. Cold plastic chair beneath you. The set lights suddenly blinding. Damien approaching like a Bond villain about to monologue you into submission.

You tried to focus. Don’t break. Don’t laugh. Don’t—

Damien walked out from the shadows holding… a banana.

Oh no.

He didn’t even speak at first. Just stood in front of you, dead silent, slowly peeling the banana with exaggerated care, like it was a bomb. The studio lost it before he even got a word out.

Courtney had faceplanted into a pillow. Angela whisper-yelled, “NO. NOPE. NOT THE BANANA.”

Damien took a thoughtful bite.

“Bananas,” he said, around a mouthful, “are a great source of potassium. But did you know... they’re also excellent practice for deep breathing exercises?”

You clenched your jaw. Do not spit. Do not combust. He’s doing it on purpose.

He crouched lower in front of you. Face level. Oh god.

“I’ve seen you eat bananas before,” he added. “You don’t even chew. You just... commit.”

A choked sound burst from the back of your throat.

Damien smirked.

“It’s inspiring, really. I mean, most people don’t gag that far into a potassium stick and come out smiling.”

You shook violently. Your eyes watered. You slapped your knee like Morse code.

Damien kept going, completely unfazed, absolutely loving this.

He stood again, tossing the banana peel over his shoulder like a victory flag.

“And the way your lips—grip—”

You exploded.

WATER. EVERYWHERE.

Your entire face launched forward in a tidal wave. You folded in half, practically falling out of the chair, coughing into your sleeve.

The room ERUPTED.

Damien had looked over at you when it was mentioned, raising an eyebrow with that crooked, teasing smile that always made your stomach flip. "Uncensored?" he repeated. "Y/N would destroy us all."

You only smirked. “Oh, I’m already making a list of dares.”

By the time evening rolled around, the crew cleared a corner of the set, dimmed the lights for dramatic effect, and gathered pillows, drinks, and a whiteboard with "TRUTH OR DARE: UNCENSORED" scribbled on it like some sort of summoning ritual. Everyone was hyped—maybe a little tipsy—and Damien had taken a seat beside you, casually slouching with a red solo cup in hand.

You tried to act casual too. Tried.

The game starts out harmless.

"Truth or dare, Shayne?" someone calls out.

“Dare,” he says, grinning like a feral gremlin.

“Send a flirty voice note to Courtney. Right now.”

Laughter erupts as Shayne does a stupid sexy whisper into his phone. It gets worse. Next round, Olivia has to give Noah a five-second lap dance. Keith gets dared to lick hot sauce off someone’s finger (which he does way too dramatically), and Ian—God bless him—is asked how many people he’s kissed on set. The real ones know.

Then it’s your turn.

Shayne smirks like he’s been waiting for this. “Y/N. Dare.”

You cross your arms, chin up. “Hit me.”

He nods at the whiteboard. “Pick a lap of the opposite gender to sit on—for the rest of the game.”

The room erupts in cheers and whistles. You pretend to groan, but inside? You’re already burning up. You scan the room slowly, taking your time like you’re actually considering options. Keith wiggles his eyebrows. Noah pats his knees.

But your eyes lock on Damien, who raises one brow, his lip tugged up into a smirk—but he doesn’t say anything. Just meets your stare and opens his arms a little.

“C’mon,” he says. “I’m comfy.”

“Mm. We’ll see.”

With dramatic flair, you stand and walk slowly, milking every second of suspense while the group yells out guesses. You pass by Ian. Then Noah. Then—

You plop down onto Damien’s lap, sideways at first, legs swinging over his, one arm resting lazily around his shoulders.

The room loses it.

“CALLED IT!” Olivia screams.

You laugh, heart pounding. Damien’s hands go to your waist—secure, confident, like he’s done this before. “You sure you’re comfy?” you tease.

“I’m just wondering why you didn’t do this three months ago,” he murmurs low enough that only you hear.

Your breath catches. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, but there’s mischief in his eyes. And maybe a little something more.

“Truth or dare, Damien?” Shayne leers.

“Dare,” Damien replies, tapping your knee.

“Whisper something dirty in Y/N’s ear.”

You freeze.

The room oohs, but Damien leans in, mouth brushing your ear. His voice is deep, quiet, low enough to make your skin tingle.

“I could list ten things I want to do to you right now, but they’d all make you blush in front of your friends.”

You do blush—so hard that Keith throws a pillow at you. “What the hell did he say?!”

You laugh it off, hiding your face in Damien’s shoulder while he just smiles innocently.

Then it's your turn again.

“Noah,” you say. “Truth.”

He grins. “Bring it.”

You smirk. “Have you ever fantasized about someone in this room?”

Noah goes beet red. “I hate you.”

“Name. Names,” Shayne chants.

“Okay okay—fine. I had a dream about Damien once. He was wearing a cape. Don’t ask.”

The room explodes again, but you glance at Damien and see his smirk twitch.

“Popular guy,” you whisper.

“Jealous?” he murmurs, teasing.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it.

A few rounds later, Ian has to give someone a hickey (he backs out, screaming). Olivia has to describe her ideal kiss with someone in the room, while making eye contact. Shayne dares Noah to act out his most sinful fantasy—with props. The crew is losing it.

But you’re still in Damien’s lap.

He’s got one hand on your thigh now. You’re both quieter, more tense. There’s laughter around you, but your body is way too aware of his—how warm he is, how close, how his hand keeps drifting higher when he laughs.

Then someone dares you again.

“Y/N,” Olivia grins devilishly, “kiss the person you’re sitting on.”

The room howls before you even react.

You turn toward Damien, but his expression’s unreadable. "Only if you want to," he says softly, serious this time.

You lean in, brush your nose against his, and whisper, “About damn time.”

The kiss is slow. Confident. Hot.

The crew screams, pillows fly again, but you don’t even care. His hand slips into your hair and your fingers curl around his collar. It’s one of those kisses you’ve both wanted for months—but never admitted out loud.

When you pull back, you're both a little breathless.

“I should sit on your lap more often,” you murmur.

“You better,” Damien says, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

The next day, the video—yes, someone definitely filmed it—gets posted under the title: “UNCENSORED SMOSH TRUTH OR DARE | TOO HOT FOR YOUTUBE”

The comments are chaos.

"THEY KISSED ON CAMERA WHAT THE HELL" "Love the loser nerd and hottest girl cliché. It’s giving romcom." "Damien bagged THEE Y/N. I’m sweating." "Someone check on Shayne, he looks like a betrayed ex."

You pretend to be embarrassed, but secretly? You’re grinning at your phone. Especially when Damien texts you:

Damien:

They’re calling you the hottest girl and me a nerd. So… wanna kiss again, hot girl?

You type back:

for those that haven’t seen the live show:

context 1: shayne mentioned that he’s never “built a bear” before, but if he ever gets the chance, he should make a chosen bear

context 2: shayne pointed out angela and spencer’s leather jacket looks, and they joked that the last guests (tommy and courtney) were the “teddy bears” and that they (angela and spencer) were part of the “after dark line.” they also said they had writers in the back prepping that joke for them LOL

IMAGE DESCRIPTION:

IMAGE 1: Fanart of the Chosen from Smosh holding a Build-a-Bear up to his face. The bear is wearing identical shades and wolf T-shirt, along with a pony bead version of his shark tooth necklace. Sticker-like doodles of the Chosen and Chosen bear are drawn in the corners.

IMAGE 2: Fanart of Smosh cast members from the Reddit Stories Liveshow as Build-a-Bear stuffed animals. Shayne is a tan bear leaning against the Smosh iPad. Courtney is a golden retriever with a paw on their hip sticking their tongue out. Tommy is a blonde dog with a mustache pattern on his muzzle waving his paw. Angela is a brown chihuahua blowing a kiss. Spencer is a brown bear tilting his head and gesturing his arms out. The top text reads: Build-a-Smosh. The text besides Angela and Spencer is a neon sign that reads: After Dark Line.

IMAGE 3: Closeup of the Chosen’s face. Artist’s note reads: 1st time painting since 2023, why is this the prettiest hair i’ve ever rendered…

IMAGE 4: Closeup of Chosen Bear’s face. Artist’s note reads: Pawprint in lenses! Pony bead version of necklace!

You realized what you’d done, putting your hands over your mouth to try and stifle your giggles. “Sorry Spence, I didn’t mean to try to hurt your precious face. How else would you make money?”

“I’ll have you know that people would go crazy for my feet if I got desperate enough.” 

Your face wrinkled as you thought about how he was probably right. “Ew. Never say that again.” You shimmied out of the backseat, taking your bag from the trunk and going to the front desk where Shayne and Court were getting room keys. 

“Okay, we have three rooms since Ian is staying with his friend. That’s about two of us per room I think.”

“I call not Spencer!” Angela yelled. “I love you Spence but no way. I need my girl time.” She linked arms with Alexcina and Emily, who were standing on either side of her.

You thought for a minute. “Well, I don’t know if the four of us could fit in one room, and personally I don’t want to watch Shayne and Court make out.”

A devilish look flashed in Courtney’s eye. “So why don’t you room with Spencer? That way Angela can have girl time and the two of you can have nerd time or whatever.”

You froze, heart racing. Court knew exactly what she was doing. Tentatively, you said, “I guess. It’s probably fine, right?”

Spencer just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me as long as you don’t snore.” 

You glared at him. “Fine. Give me the keys, this dork will lose them.” You snatched the keys out of Courtney’s hand as she winked at you, and you took off, muttering to yourself about stupid people and stupid Courtney and stupid London. 

Spencer turned to the group, sighing. “You just had to go and provoke the beast, didn’t you?”

Shayne gave him a gentle push on the shoulder. “You can handle it buddy, go get her.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, following the gray storm cloud that surrounded his crush. He nearly crashed into you as you abruptly stopped in the doorway. He peered over her shoulder to see why and froze too. 

Of course. One bed. Mischievous bitches. 

“Nope. Mm mm. Not gonna happen.” You shook your head. “There has to have been some sort of mistake.”

Spencer looked at the receipt for the reservations. “Nope, no mistake, we booked three queen rooms.” 

“Ugh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” You threw your stuff next to the couch then flopped down on it. “I barely slept at all on that flight, I’m exhausted.”

“You? You barely slept? Did you suddenly develop a whole new personality trait in the time it took to get from LA to London?”

“It’s not funny Spencer.” You muttered angrily into the couch. “The only sleep I got was on the drive from the airport to here.” A frustrated tear slipped out of your eye and he longed to wipe it away. 

“Then take the bed.”

“No, your old man back needs it more than me.”

“I’m only like two years older than you.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Look, I get that you want your space, but I think you should sleep in the bed, you’re already grumpy enough. We’ll put up a pillow wall or something if you don’t want me to sleep on the couch.” 

You pulled yourself out of your slump, hair falling in front of your face, then took two steps over to the bed and fell face first on it. Spencer thought he heard you mumble something along the lines of thank you before he watched you fall asleep, feet hanging haphazardly off the bed. He took his time getting ready for bed, being as quiet as he could. He was reluctantly setting up a pillow between the two of you when he heard you whimper. Concerned, he sat up and watched as your fists clenched the blanket. 

“Please, no, get away, no!” You cried out in your sleep, starting to thrash. 

Spencer shook your shoulder roughly. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s time to wake up now.” 

You awoke with a start, body shaking. You rubbed your eyes furiously, trying to clear them of the sleep sand and tears. “Sorry, I need a minute.” Rushing to the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face. You looked like a hot mess. Spencer had been kind enough to unpack your toiletries and put a pair of your pajamas in there, knowing you would inevitably wake up and realize you were uncomfortable. Of course he did. That thoughtful motherfucker. 

Spencer was sitting up on the bed when you finally came out, phone glowing in the darkness of the bedroom. You sat next to him, pulling the covers up onto your lap and avoiding his gaze. 

“Talk to me.” He left no room for argument. 

“I have chronic nightmares. Sometimes I take sleeping pills for them, but they usually make me sleep through alarms and things. So I didn’t bring them. I figured I couldn’t miss any of this. I figured I’d be sharing a room with Emily since she knows, but…”

“You ended up with me.”

“Exactly.” 

“And that’s why you nap all the time?” 

“Pretty much. Sleeping for more than two hours makes my brain overactive or something.”

“And that’s why you didn’t sleep on the plane either?”

“Right on the money.” You looked at him, making out his concerned look in the dark. “Sorry for all of this.”

“You don’t need to apologize, I totally get it.” He slid down the headboard, wrapping himself in the blanket. “So what do we do to get you to sleep?”

You thought back to all of the home remedies and medications you had tried. Only one had ever really worked. But you couldn’t do that to him. Could you? But friends cuddled all the time. This could be a normal, totally platonic and not at all fantasy fueling cuddle sesh. 

“Okay, you can say no, I just want to preface that.”

“Okay?”

“But the only thing that’s ever worked is, uh, cuddling.” Your face burned with embarrassment. “Andit’stotallyfineifyoudon’twanttobecausethatwouldbecrazyright.”

Little did you know, his face was flushing too, for completely different reasons. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Sure, if it’ll get you to sleep.”

You sunk into the pillows. “Really?”

“Yep. C’mere you.” He opened his arms, making room for you to lay against his chest. You scooched closer, tentatively wrapping your arms around him. He rested his chin on the top of your head, squeezing you in a hug as you settled in. 

“Thanks Spence.”

“Of course.”

—-----

“And then we cuddled.” Angela squealed, grabbing Alexcina’s arm. 

“And how did you sleep?”

“It was the best I’ve slept in a long time. Like a long long time.” Angela started bouncing up and down, fork flying out of her salad and onto the floor. As she picked it up, you slid yours into her salad. You didn’t need one to eat your sandwich anyway. 

Alexcina grinned at you from across the table. “So are you gonna do it again tonight?”

You sighed dreamily, glancing at where Spencer, Ian and Sean were drinking tea at a table near you. “Is it selfish to say that I hope so?”

“I don’t think so.” She took a sip of her tea. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“He’s just being nice.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “You think that man cuddles just to be nice?”

“Absolutely yes. He’s so touchy with everyone.”

Her eyes flicked over to the boys, looking at how Spencer was leaning on Sean. “Not like how he is with you.”

As if on cue, Spencer caught your eye and came walking over to your table, slumping over on top of you. “You’ll never believe this. They forgot to give me a tea bag. I was drinking plain hot water the whole time.”

You burst into laughter, shaking the two of you violently. He grinned ear-to-ear, getting exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. “You didn’t think anything when it was clear?”

“I don’t know, it could’ve been special.”

You shook your head lightly, leaning back into him. “Only you Spence, only you.” He looked down at you, eyes flitting over your lips briefly before he stood back up. 

“Well, back to being the court jester, see you later!” He practically bounded back to the boys, laughing as he went. 

Alexcina and Angela were staring at you. “What?”

“Just nice my ass.” Angela muttered, downing the rest of her tea. “I need liquor after watching that.”

“Liquor? I hardly know her.”

She groaned and walked away, leaving you and Alexcina snickering in the background. 

—------

The day had absolutely wiped you out. You loved your job, you really did, but sometimes you felt like you weren’t cut out for the amount of social interaction it required. You were booed when you said no to going out, but you told them you’d rather be in bed with a glass of wine and a cheesy movie than spend another minute talking to someone you didn’t know. 

Reluctantly, they let you go back to the hotel, and you were very contentedly sipping a glass of cheap white wine and finishing the movie 27 Dresses when you heard the door handle click open. 

Spencer kicked off his shoes and laid down next to you, looking flushed and exhausted. 

“I split the G once, and I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

“That’s exactly why you don’t drink anymore, stupid.”

“I know, I know, but like when in Rome y’know.” You nodded as you watched Jane walk down the aisle for the millionth time. “You really like this movie.”

You shrugged. “It’s cute.” 

“Not to dog your taste, but it’s a little predictable.”

“I fear that’s the point.” He raised an eyebrow in a silent question, which prompted you to continue. “Girl meets guy, they slowly fall in love, there’s a big fight then they get back together. It’s simple and easy. No complications. Not like real life.”

“What’s wrong with real life?”

You were quiet for a minute before you settled on the words you wanted to say. “Feelings in real life are messy.”

“But isn’t that what makes it beautiful?” He was leaning on his elbow now, intently focused on what you had to say. 

“I mean, you aren’t wrong, but to me it’s just confusing.”

“Tell me about it.”

You sighed and set your glass down, the alcohol fueling your openness. “So there’s this guy.” Spencer frowned for a second, but quickly replaced it with a thoughtful expression. “And I really like him, and my friends say he likes me too, but like- sometimes I just think, why would he? I’m just me. And he’s a really good friend of mine, so what if I mess up and lose him?”

“I think anyone who’d turn you down would be stupid. And he would like you for you dipshit, that’s kinda how that works.”

You leaned back against the headboard, glaring at him. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“Do I look nice to you? I thought I was menacing.” He stuck his tongue out at you. 

You snorted. “As menacing and cute as a teddy bear.”

“Cute? That’s a new one.” 

Pink crept up your neck and you turned your head away from him. “Shut up.”

He tugged on your hand that was resting in your lap. “Hey, seriously, I think you should tell that guy you like him. It might go better than you think.”

“Go put your pajamas on and stop being wise.” 

He pushed himself off the bed with a Herculean effort, rolling on top of you in the process. “Cuddle time again tonight?”

Before he could disappear into the bathroom, you nodded. “Yes please.” The door gently shut behind him and his words rang in your head. ‘It might go better than you think.’ That bastard, he knew already, didn’t he. 

Stupid Spencer. 

—---------

Late that night, tucked into the crook of his neck, you still couldn’t fall asleep. You were too anxious, mind occupied by how easily it had been for him to read you. Had he known all this time? Did someone tell him? Was it Angela? It was definitely Angela. 

After shifting to try and get more comfortable for the nth time that night, Spencer stirred from his slumber. “Your thoughts are loud.”

“Did Angela tell you?”

“Did Angela tell me what?” He murmured sleepily. 

“That I like you.” 

“No, I figured it out on my own. But I wanted you to tell me yourself.” You huffed at him, annoyed, and turned away from him. “Baby, come back.” 

The name slipped from his mouth like it always belonged there and wormed its way into your chest. “Oh. Spence, you can’t say that.”

“Why not? Do you not like it? If you don’t like it I’ll stop.” He was fully awake now, eyes wide. 

You turned back to face him, heart thumping wildly. “I think you just rewrote my whole life. In a good way.” 

His head fell onto your shoulder. “Thank god. I was worried I was wrong.” 

“You could never be wrong, not about this.”

“Does that mean I get a goodnight kiss now with my cuddles?”

“Take me on a date first and then we’ll see.” You snuggled back into his arms, the adrenaline fading into a calming warmth. The steady beat of his heart sung you to sleep, and as your eyes closed, you felt him place a small kiss on your forehead. 

“Sweet dreams.”