#penultimate part. just one more.
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Front Step
This drabble is preceded by Back Step and followed by Last Dance.
Guardian Artifice & RĂłisĂn Perkin | Castle of Roses | Present Night
A few hours later, Arty finished dosing the wine, dropped its invisibility and disguise tech setup, and went off to find RĂłisĂn.
It knocked on her door, half hoping sheâd answer, half hoping -
âOh, hey.â Yawned the kelpie, rubbing his eyes. âWhatâre ya doinâ here so late in the day?â
It bonked its head against his shoulder and he blinked rapidly with shock.
âIâŚdonât want to be alone.â It admitted, then scowled. âDonât take this the wrong way. Iâm not here to sleep with you. I justâŚâ
It hugged itself.
âI donât like to be alone for too long.â
It said in a distant voice.
âUh, sure. Câmon in then.â Said the fae in a baffled voice, stepping back to let the artifice walk inside their room.
Arty looked around at the roses painted all over the walls, the rich tapestries of hunts and gardens hanging down, ones that must be preserved by magic given how old they looked.Â
The colored thread still gleamed in the low torchlight, and beautifully carved wooden furniture with various objects and clothes scattered around it filled the space around the giant, luxurious bed.
âMânot home much, but sâalways nice when I am.â RĂłisĂn said as the construct looked around.Â
âYes.â It murmured. âYour staff seem very loyal.â
âShit, I gotta be good to âem, who else is gonna keep this place goinâ?â She said with a chuckle. âHad most of âem fer as long as Iâve been alive, before the age of iron.â
âRight. Itâs gold that doesnât bother you, isnât it?â
âNawp.â He confirmed. âWhy dâya think leprechauns have it in stories? Granâed, thoseâre mostly bunk, that rainbow anâpot shit - but they got one thing right.â
âEvery fae has an aspect, or so it seems.â Arty said, walking further in, hands clasped behind its back.
âA lot of us.â RĂłisĂn agreed. âNobles do, anâ some lower folk.â
It looked at her, so piercingly the kelpieâs tail flicked in mild discomfort.
âAn aspect determined when youâre hatched, isnât it? Or born. Grown. I admit Iâm not an expert on fae biology.â
âCould be any.â They said honestly. âWe ainât all alike, you know that. The disease folk are the oldest of us all, they come into beinâ when new diseases do. Mâtold I had parents, but I donât remember âem. Probâly died fighting trolls, or some other race.â
The casualness in the faeâs voice surprised the artifice, and its eyebrows rose curiously.
âEh, I never met âem, sâno big deal to me.â They said with a shrug. âMy attendants raised me, anâ theyâre all I ever needed.â
âSo you donât hate trolls for that?â
RĂłisĂn chuckled.
âTrolls do a lotta dumb shit. But I ainât one of those idjits who thinks the planetâs better off without âem. Even if we could get rid of âem all and resettle, the fleet would just crush us. Things would be a lot more borinâ anyway.â
âAnd youâd have fewer easy dinners.â It drawled.
The kelpieâs tail flicked.
âWell, ya.â They said, puzzled. âI know you donâ like it, but thatâs how things are sometimes. Some of us eat âem. Hell, sometimes they eat each other. You donâ eat, you wouldnâ get it.â
It hissed in displeasure, ears flattening as its hair fluffed out.
âYou donât have to eat them! Youâre not undead. At least they have an excuse. You do it because you canât be bothered to plan your life so you donât have to resort to murder to feed yourself!â
RĂłisĂn scratched her neck, clearly unbothered by its words as it clenched its freckled fists.
âCân we agree to disagree? Cause this ainât goinâ nowhere.â
âNo.â It said tightly. âWe canât.â
It turned to leave.
The kelpie stretched out an arm, clearly intending to put a hand on the artificeâs shoulder, then dropped it.
Arty paused.
âWhat would it take for you to never eat a troll again?â
RĂłisĂn blinked.
âUh. I dunno. Tâalways have enough free food around? Most of it belongs to âem and ya gotta pay. Canâ even take sheep and stuff no more without someone shootinâ ya. Canât eat someoneâs lusus without pissinâ em off so bad they wanna kill ya for it. Then the monster hunters come, anâ thâempire, an -â
It sighed deeply, two fingers pressed to its forehead.
âAll right, I get it. I suppose those are fair points. And a commentary on how much the imperials have messed things up.â It mutters. âNo matter what I do, I canât fix what theyâve doneâŚnot that I was ever supposed to. I was only meant to protect one city.â
It sighed deeply and wearily. âNever mind. I can see this is more complex than I realized. But canât fae raise your own food? You have realms of your own, yes?â
âWell, ya.â RĂłisĂn said, still puzzled. âBut I spend most of mâtime on Alternia, anâ I canât just hop back and forth like a flea. I gotta find a gate, and sâgotta be for the right court. Why dâya think we had to come all this way? Sânot as easy as it used tâbe. We gotta be careful, of trolls anâ of other courts. We ainât all buddies, yâknow, any more than every troll gets along.â
It shut its eyes for a moment.
It didnât regret preparing its plan. Something had to be done.
But if it had known all this beforeâŚ
âWhy spend time on Alternia, then?â It said shortly.Â
RĂłisĂn snorted. âCause the fae realms are only so bigâŚ? Even workinâ together, we ainât powerful enough to make anythinâ like a whole region. Shit, Iâd be bored to death if I stayed there. Wanderinâ is way better.â
Its ears flicked up and down.
âWhy should we hafta be cooped up when trolls get a whole planet anâ more, huh?â They continued, shaking their head. âThaâs not fair.â
âNeither is eating them.â It muttered. âHow would you like it if trolls came and started eating fae?â
RĂłisĂn laughed.
âShit, theyâve done it before. They used tâhunt us, yâknow. Yâthink no oneâs ever wondered what kelpie meat tastes like? Cân hardly blame âem, I look delicious.â She said, hands on her hips as she chuckled.
Arty shook its head.
âYou sound almost proud of that.â
âWhy not? Iâsa compliment.â
âI wouldnât want anyone to think of consuming me in any way.â It said with a sniff.
There was a pause.
âThen why dâya look like a pretty twink as a troll?â RĂłisĂn said, genuinely puzzled.
It put both hands over its face.
âIt wasnât intentionalâŚâ It groaned, voice muffled by its fingers as RĂłisĂn cracked up.
âYer so innocent.â He remarked, deeply amused. âOr dâya really not see things like we do?â
It blinked, dropping its hands and putting a finger to its chin as it tilted its head.
âOf course I donât.â It retorted, tone more puzzled than annoyed. âA lot of your faces look alike to me. In your case, your size and way of speaking help me distinguish you. And your hair and ears.â
âHehe.â Said the kelpie, clearly pleased by the list of traits. âLike what ya see?â
âI donât care.â Stated Arty bluntly as RĂłisĂn pouted.
âYa donât always not care, though. I bet yaâd get real flustered if yer crush got up close to ya.â
It paused.
âKnew it.â Said the fae with a smug smirk.
âYouâre not right for the reasons you think.â It retorted, arms crossed.
The kelpie sat down on her big bed and patted the spot next to her.
âCome explain tâme, then.â
It took a few steps toward the bed, then stopped.
âIâŚâ it said, then paused. âItâs not how trolls or fae or other fully organic beings feel attracted to one another. At least, not quite the sameâŚâ
It clasped its hands in front of it, ears lowered.
âI am light, here, in my most basic form.â It murmured. âBefore I was this, I was connected to everything. Now itâs so much dimmerâŚso much weaker, unless I sacrifice myself for someone else, for a brief momentâŚbut I can still see it, somewhat, the rest of my light. It runs through everything.â
It sighed with longing.
âShe shines, you know. The leaping electricity in her body, her connections to other trolls, to her hive, her lusus, her magicâŚsheâs so full of possibilities. Sheâs so herselfâŚso beautiful in her myriad of what she has been, is, and could beâŚâ
It shook its head, laughing a little helplessly.
âI shouldnât love! I should never love. It shouldnât be possible. It doesnât make sense. But I canât - stop. I can only hope it fadesâŚthat I never offend or disturb herâŚâ
The artifice trailed off, shaking its head.
âI look away. I ignore things for their privacy, I make myself forget, and I try not to stare at them. I know they wouldnât like it if I looked at them too much, no one would.â
It hugged itself, ears flattened.
âMaybe that will be enough. Maybe she wonât hate me if she ever finds out.â
It shut its eyes.
âBut I wouldnât blame her if she did.â
It heard RĂłisĂn get off the bed and walk toward it. It didnât move. It smelled and felt him stand near it, very close.
âDo yâwant a hug?â She asked, very gently.
Arty leaned forward into the kelpieâs soft, wide belly and went limp, allowing him to support it with his thick, hairy arms around its body.
It feltâŚnice.
It shouldnât. The artifice knew it shouldnât indulge itself. The rest of the plan was working; this didnât need to be a part of it.
On the other hand, maybe it could turn this to its advantage.
It withdrew, and RĂłisĂn let it go, and it drew the domino theyâd given it out of its sylladex.
The kelpie looked at it blankly.
âWhatâre ya holdinâ there? Yer hand is shaped like ya got somethinâ pinched in it, but I canâ see shit.â
Its eyebrows raised.
âHuh. So even though you gave this to me, you canât see it now? Is that the enchantment?â
âOh, thâdomino.â RĂłisĂn laughed, realizing what was happening. âYa, Iâm not great with magic, but I cân do little spells. That oneâs not visible to anyone âcept the person who has it til they point it out. Great fer winninâ games.â
âInteresting.â Arty mused, and put it away again.
It walked back a few steps, ears flicking.
âIâll let you get back to sleep.â
RĂłisĂn waved at it, watching the artifice leave and close the door behind it.
He sighed as soon as he was sure it was gone.
âNow I gotta deliver you to themâŚwell, no fixinâ that, but Iâm not gonna do what they said otherwise. Theyâre on their damn own.â She said with a chuckle.Â
Then her expression fell again.
Sure, it was dangerous. Dangerous as hell and twice as strange, but shit, hardly the only thing out there like that.
It wasnât right, what they wanted to do to it. She wished she hadnât told them a damn thing.
She wished she hadnât followed their damn orders like she always damn did even though sheâd left to get away from that shit.
It was in their blood, that was the thing. Theyâd always followed their kings, queens, and lieges, just as the lesser nobilityâs attendants had always followed them.Â
There was no harder thing for a fae than ignoring that hierarchy completely.Â
They were already coming to take it away.
RĂłisĂn hung her head.
It was too late. Sheâd made her choice.
Hadnât she?
#cloud writes#black mambo#guardian artifice#RĂłisĂn perkin#penultimate part. just one more.#the shortest one so far but still almost 2k lmao#technically also an I'm sorry Nyles one but the whole point is that Arty wishes to hide The Weirdness so.#it's doing its best to be good.
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do you believe me now? | 7
in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time
series masterlist
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!
Spencerâs lips are on yours, and you werenât expecting itâhell, you werenât expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, heâd wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.
âSpencerâwhââÂ
But heâs insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like thereâs nectar on your tongue and heâs parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips.Â
âI missed you.â
This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. Itâs not something you do very often, admittedly.Â
âWeâve been apart for like, maybe a minute.â
âI didnât even make it to the parking lot.â
Your face heats. Â
âWell you canât justâyou canât just walk in like that! And I thought you said we werenât supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.â
âThen start locking your door. And I thought you said we werenât fighting.â
You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest.Â
At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastelyâalthough he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of hisâglowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips.Â
âI originally said itâs a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you knowâmakeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing andââ
âSpencer.â
âYou know what else?â He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. âIt tends to feel better than regular sex.â
That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyoneâs guessâprobably a combination of both.Â
âSo you came back to fuck me?â
Itâs probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isnât going exactly as heâd planned. He doesnât answer right awayâjust regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like heâs trying to calculate your level of anger.Â
âIs that what weâre calling it now?â
You push him away and move to walk down the hall.Â
âMaybe your window of opportunity has passed.â
A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until youâre falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses.Â
âWhatâs wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?â His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. Itâs the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to.Â
âI donât know,â you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. âWhat happened to change yours?â
His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair.Â
âYouâre upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.â
âI do,â you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. âAnd if you hadnât walked out earlier I wouldâve done it. But⌠Iâm tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just⌠you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.â His nose and lips press into your shoulder.Â
âWhat do you mean?â
âLike⌠Iâve been begging you to sleep with me for I donât even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like youâre being really confusing about it. Obviously you donât have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of⌠jerked around. And you did it again tonight.â
A beat of silence.Â
âI understand your frustration,â he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like heâs a tether in a storm. âWould you prefer to wait until you initiate it?â
âNo. Yes! I donât know,â you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. âNow Iâm annoyed at you again.â
He follows you right through the door.Â
âJust tell me what to do! I donât want to be annoying.â
âI canât. Iâm being unreasonable.â You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening.Â
âSo choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. Iâll give it to you.â
You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara.Â
âNo, youâre not understanding me. Iâm not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and thereâs nothing I can do about it because itâs just the way I feel.â
âThe feeling being that Iâve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?â
Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but itâs impossibleâwith his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy.Â
When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next moveâuntil heâs gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands.Â
âMaybe it would help,â he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. âIf I remind you why Iâve been so hesitant.â
âBecause you hate giving me joy.â
He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose.Â
âYouâre spoiled and we both know it.â
Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue.Â
âEverything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true tooâhaving sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If youâre not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, itâs hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, youâre right. I was being domineering, and I guess⌠I guess to an extent Iâm still deflecting. I shouldnât be trying to pretend like itâs about you when in reality I mostly just didnât want to get hurt again. I didnât want to go through that again, and thatâs okay, but I shouldnât have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.â
You try to process that.Â
âGo through what?â You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y.Â
âSleeping with someone who didnât love me back.â
Your reply is small.Â
âOh. Right.â
How could anyone not love him back?
Spencerâs reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitchâwhich is pretty much what youâre thinking to yourself.Â
âDoes that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?â
He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if heâs got an eternity to wait for your answer.Â
âYeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so⌠I donât know, like, wishy-washy about it?â
Spencerâs eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him.Â
âBecause Iâm obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.â
Your breath catches at the casual admission.Â
âOh.â
Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye.Â
âYou didnât think it was easy for me, did you?â
âWell⌠kind of,â you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours.Â
âNot sleeping with you has been among the hardest things Iâve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelopeâs and you asked me why we hadnât had sex yetâŚâ
He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought.Â
Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, âwhat?â
âItâs not a nice thought.â
âWell, you have to tell me now,â you insist.Â
He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips.Â
âIt was just⌠you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.â
It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place.Â
âSpencer,â you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind.Â
âI told you it wasnât nice.â
You swallow.Â
âIs that⌠is that still what you want?â
His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear.Â
âTo bend you over my couch? No.â
Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing.Â
âOkay, goodniââ
âHold on.â Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. âI know what you meant. And no, I donât want to bend you over my couch.â He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. âYou know what I want. Iâm more interested in learning what you want.â
âI wantâŚâ Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what youâve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. âI want to stop talking about it.â
His expression neutralizes and you know itâs probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision.Â
âOh?â
âI just think weâve talked about it enough.â
Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion thereâs no way he can doubt how much you want this.Â
Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until youâre walking backward out of the bathroom. Itâs like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable.Â
Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.
Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til youâre on your back.Â
âDonât make that face.â
An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression.Â
âWhat do you mean donât make that face? I was just smiling at you.â
âI know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty aboutâŚÂ defiling you.â
Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.
âWatch yourself. Iâll defile you.â
âYou already have,â he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. âMy mind was never this dirty before we met.â
âHm. Tell me you like my smile.â
He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth.Â
âI love your smile. Youâre gorgeous. Any more demands?â
Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.Â
âNot currently.â
âReally?â he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, âIâd do just about anything you asked me right now. You donât want to take advantage of that?â
The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone.Â
âI shouldnât have to demand things. You should just know to do them.â
His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and youâre trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched showâbut you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt.Â
âWell, for future referenceââ he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. â���I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.â
âIâve never not let you call me pretty before,â you huff. Itâs a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway.Â
âNo. But you never believe me. Weâve had this conversation. You always act like Iâm walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.âÂ
Itâs hard to make a defense when heâs leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when heâs looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like youâre something to be consumed. But not violently, noâardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like youâre a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.
But itâs not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, youâd never thought youâd feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like thisâvulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that youâd hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that youâd say, I know once you open me and you see me youâll not want to change a thing.
You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. Heâs lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally.Â
Itâs deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb.Â
âI just wish you could see yourself how I see you,â he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords.Â
Sometimes, he is so kind itâs like a punch to your stomach. Youâve never been quite as kind as him. And nobodyâs ever been as kind to you as he is. Youâve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and youâre here with open arms.Â
He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard youâre hesitant to distract him.Â
âIâve never told you this, because I know youâd just shoot it down, but⌠you are genuinely the most beautiful girl Iâve ever met in my life.â
Something twinges in the depths of your stomachâthe darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day.Â
But theyâre simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wristânot a cuff, but an affectionate hold.Â
âDo you believe me?â
Thereâs so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about youâheâs been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness.Â
Ever since Spencer, you donât see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. Heâs in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you.Â
âI do,â you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and thatâs enough. Itâs all that matters.Â
The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But itâs most visible in his eyesâthe way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until theyâre molten.Â
The way he kisses you then, youâd think youâd lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.
Thereâs a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesnât even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels likeâwhat he feels like. But you canât, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you.Â
âYouâre not wasting any time,â you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.
âDo you want me to slow down?â
Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that heâd never push you.Â
âNo, itâs fine. As long as we⌠donât go this fast the whole time.â
âWe wonât.â The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. âWe wonât. I just missed you so much.â
âYeah?â You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin.Â
âYes. Yeah.â
Youâre not sure youâve ever seen him like this, soâŚÂ desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows youâre sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and youâre already wound up, like if Spencer doesnât give you more soon youâll burst. And not in the good way.Â
When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. Itâs like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like heâs conducting electricity over your body, like youâre a plasma ball. Heâd probably like that analogyâyou, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you werenât so distracted, youâd tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and heâd probably propose on the spot.Â
But that electricity is building fastâeven more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places heâd kissed almost hurts.Â
âYouâre a mess,â he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. âWhat am I going to do with you?â
Itâs teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach.Â
âWhatever you want,â you admit quietly. Itâs a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apartâheâll put you back together again.Â
âI donât know if IÂ can. Youâre all jumpy.â
God, he has the prettiest smileâeven when itâs twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldnât be teasing and just canât help himself.Â
âIâm not,â you defend, face heating further. âIâm not nervous. I donât know what it is.â
That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over.Â
âI didnât say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.â
Itâs not accusatoryâheâs simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe.Â
You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. Itâs definitely true that excited as you are, youâre slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second.Â
His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where heâs lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesnât speak for a moment as he formulates his words.Â
âCan we try something? Thereâs this tantric exercise that might help you relax.â
Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what heâs talking about.Â
Spencer directs you to sit up, and you doâkicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles.Â
Heâs next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him.Â
âNow what?â
âNow you give me one of your hands,â he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is.Â
Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up.Â
âDid you know,â Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, âthat the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?â
âWhatâs the first?â
âLips,â he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where heâs brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. âTheyâre both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why theyâre one and two. But youâll be particularly sensitive anywhere youâre vulnerable.â His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. âLike here.â
His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow.Â
âAnd especially here.â
Youâre fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. Youâve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flippingâmore so when he looses a breathy laugh. âYou know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.â
Your response is just as airyâyou donât recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you.Â
âReally?âÂ
An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction youâre havingâafter all, itâs just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. Itâs dizzying. Itâs like magic.Â
âArms up,â Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as heâs doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress youâre still warm. âYour neck is really sensitive, too. Itâs the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.â
Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology.Â
âTilt your head for me, honey.â
Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back werenât enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering.Â
The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.
âLie back.â
Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until youâre propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off.Â
The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than youâd ever thought to notice beforeâbut at the same time your core aches and thereâs that pressure building again thatâs starting to get to you.Â
âSpencer,â you try, and it comes out hoarse but you donât care at all. âMore.â
âYou want me to leave marks?âÂ
And the offer is so tempting youâll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and âmhmâ-ing desperately.Â
As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. Itâs a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. Itâs ridiculous.
Thereâs no point in trying to keep your eyes open nowâthey grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat.Â
âFeels good, doesnât it? Itâs kind of weird.â He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark.Â
âYeah,â you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didnât know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation.Â
âMost people arenât aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that arenât actual sex organs. They donât pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that arenât directly involved in reproduction?â
âHm,â you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single handâa skill youâre not even sure you have.Â
âIt releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So youâre less tense before sex than you usually would be, and youâre primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.â
God, heâs a nerd. And itâs so, so hot.Â
You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. Heâs seen you like this and you want him to see you again.Â
A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel.Â
âI missed you,â he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast.Â
âYou mentioned.â
âIâm not allowed to say it again?â He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his.Â
âYou can say it as many times as you want.â
Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breastâs sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as youâre already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise.Â
âGood. Because I missed you a lot.â
After that, he doesnât waste much timeâonly toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear.Â
âPlease,â you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesnât move to touch you anymore.Â
âPlease what?â
âSpencer, donât.â
He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit.Â
âYouâve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.â
Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand.Â
âYeah.â
âYeah,â he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. âThese need to stay open,â Spencer chuckles, âor else I canât help you.â
âSorry.â
âDonât apologize.â The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance.Â
âI needââ
âShh. Let me worry about it.â
With that, heâs dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until theyâre as far as theyâll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, youâre ready to melt.Â
The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You donât mind at all. Youâd let him sign his name, if he couldâbut you doubt heâd let you get his name tattooed.Â
Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when heâd told you how to find it over the phone, it wasnât the same. It wasnât like thisâmaddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking.Â
âSpencer,â you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either heâs got to slow down or heâs got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clitâyou hadnât even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe youâre more out of it than youâd previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. âOh, fuck.â
The words are simple, quiet, and apparently thatâs not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you heâs latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you canât get away.Â
âFuckfuckfuck, Spencer I waâahâsnât readyâoh my god.â
He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesnât really hurt at all. As usual, heâs blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencerâs hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried.Â
âOh, please.â Really, youâre just pleading to be put out of your misery. Itâs in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that youâre reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death. Â
Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clitâcareful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and youâre hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles.Â
Youâre breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.
âI wasnât ready,â you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesnât hold a candle to his own livelier one.Â
âTook it like a champ.â
If you werenât already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks.Â
âDr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?â You smile as he climbs back up your body.Â
âItâs unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.â He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you donât complain about the slick still on his lips. âAnd look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.â
âI remember what you said,â you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time heâd gone down on you and youâd been hesitant to taste yourself.Â
One day, Iâll make you come just like that again, and then Iâm going to fuck you, and youâre really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.
âSo do I,â he points out needlessly. âEerily prophetic, hm?â
âI think you just like going down on me,â you laugh.Â
Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual. Â
âYou might be right about that.â
Another interlude of quiet begins, but you donât mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as youâve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know youâre loved, and nothing else.Â
âWhat next?â You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm.Â
âThatâs up to you, angel. Whatâs going to make you feel most comfortable?âÂ
Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly.Â
âIt might help if you werenât fully clothed.â
âI think we could probably do something about that.â
He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then heâs pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked.Â
âOh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?â
âI got distracted,â Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off.Â
You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. Heâs so clearly excitedâit shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination.Â
âBut on my bed?â
âIâm sorry,â he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. âIâll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. Iâll buy you a new one. I donât care.â
âHow chivalrous.â
âIÂ am,â he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk.Â
Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesnât help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass.Â
âYouâre distracting me now,â you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush.Â
âDo you want to help me with my clothes?â
You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until youâre about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stareâfeeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while youâre completely naked.Â
You probably shouldnât be as thrilled by it as you are.Â
Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers.Â
âSee?â You murmur bashfully. âHelping.â
His voice is equally as soft.Â
âVery helpful. Thank you.â
The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence.Â
Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if itâs subconscious as you both track the path of your hands.Â
âYour button is on the wrong side,â you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.
Spencer chuckles. You feel silly.Â
âMen and womenâs clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if thatâs what you mean.â
âOh.â A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. âIâm sorry, I donât know why I said that. Iâm still a little bit nervous, I think.â
âThatâs okay,â Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. âItâs okay that youâre nervous. But Iâm going to take really good care of you, okay?â
You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso.Â
âAnd if at any point you need to take a break or stop, youâll tell me.â
âI will, but⌠I donât need to stop right now.â
âThen you can go as slow as you want.â
You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. Heâs pretty everywhere. Youâd nearly forgotten.Â
Spencerâs stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. Itâs then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense.Â
âGo ahead, honey.â
Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you. Â
Already heâs quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up.Â
Heâs still perfect.Â
You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and heâs humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear.Â
âSo good. Missed this.â
âItâs just my hand,â you whisper, a little insecure that heâs maybe playing it up for your benefit.Â
âItâs you.â
His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him.Â
âCan IâŚ?â
Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesnât matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like heâs in a stupor but youâve said something urgent.Â
âAnything you want. You can do whatever you want.â
âOkay. UmâŚâ
You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him.Â
âThis is what you want?â He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod.Â
Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times youâve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the pastâsimply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, thereâs something almost chaste about the way you handle him. Itâs a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately.Â
Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging.Â
Spencer makes the prettiest noisesâtheyâre breathy, and not ostentatious, but heâs got such a nice speaking voice itâs like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly heâs tugging your hair so you canât keep him in your mouth.Â
âWhat?â You ask, closer to pouting than youâd care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. âYou said I could do anything I want.â
âNot if youâre that good at it. Come here.â
He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before youâve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths.Â
Spencerâs eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment youâre expecting him to say something, to tell you youâre beautiful or perfect or that heâs in love with youâbut instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like youâre a genuine miracle.Â
You feel so observedâseen in a way youâve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like youâre the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic fieldâan energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as heâd explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to  someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until itâs a perfect match. Maybe thatâs why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever.Â
âOkay,â you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, youâll never remember them like he does yours. But youâll be damned if you donât try your hardest.Â
âOkay?â Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely.Â
As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like youâre entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours.Â
One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times.Â
Once again youâre struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isnât sexual in the way youâd anticipated. Itâs not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you.Â
âOne more like this,â he mutters against your jaw after a moment.Â
âWhy?â
Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin.Â
âJust want you relaxed and feeling good. Thatâs all.â
When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you.Â
It seems youâve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.
âPerfect. That was perfect,â Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. âCan I ask you something before we get carried away?â
âMhm,â you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows.Â
âBaby,â he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. âNeed you a little more alert, sweet girl.â
ââMÂ trying,â you whine, though itâs half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. âOkay. Go.â
âWell⌠we donât have any protection.â Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. âAnd thatâs⌠Iâm okay with that, if itâs what you still want. I trust you. But there will come⌠a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should⌠reckon. So you donât end up surprised.â
Now youâre really laughingâa giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders.Â
âStop it,â he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. âThat was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.â
âIâm sorry, I just canât take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.â
âFine. Iâll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.â
Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again.Â
âUmâŚâ
Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. Itâs enough to prompt you into answeringâhe doesnât have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish.Â
âInside,â you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he wonât be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if heâs remembering the conversation youâd had over the phone last weekâbefore heâd accidentally kind of broken up with youâabout this very subject. You certainly are.Â
âOkay. I want you to have everything that you want.â A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. âJust need to hear that you want this one more time.â
âI want this,â you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. âNow, please.â
Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before heâs reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance.Â
âRemember, if you need to stop at any pointââ
âI remember,â you cut him off hurriedly.Â
Okay. So perhaps youâre still slightly nervous.Â
He watches you, sympathetic though youâre not sure what for.Â
âI need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.â
You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly.Â
At first, it just feels foreign. Heâs going so slowly, so carefully, youâre not sure heâs moving at allâuntil he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position.Â
âItâs gonna hurt,â you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. Youâd always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that youâd be one of those people who didnât experience any pain their first time.Â
âJust for a minute. Then itâll feel good, angel.â
You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you.Â
âSuper deep breaths for me.â
He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and itâs like heâs breaking you in two.Â
âAh,â you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you.Â
âI know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.â
He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.
You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. Itâs an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is youâre feeling. Mostly, youâre dizzy and hot.
âRelax, just like that,â he strains, looking down. âMy good girl. Weâre almost there, baby.â
Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours.Â
Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you donât think it was meant for you.Â
Heâs inside of you. Itâs bizarre.Â
You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery heâd been in.Â
âYou okay? How does that feel?â
You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no availâyour thoughts are like TV static.Â
âIâm good. I need⌠I need a minute.â
âYou can have as much time as you need. Itâs a lot, huh?â
âYeah,â you admit, voice small and weak.Â
âI bet,â he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. âBut youâre doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. Youâre doing so well and weâre gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever youâre ready.â
âWill you please kiss me again?â you whisper, and Spencerâs brow knits with concern.Â
âOf course, angel. Of course Iâll kiss you,â he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. âIâll do whatever you want. You can have anything. Youâre so perfect.â
He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like youâre delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you donât mind at all. It feels good.Â
âYou can⌠you can move.â
âOkay. Weâll go really slow, yeah?â
He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling.Â
âUh-huh. Youâre okay, I promise.â
At first it doesnât feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and heâs careful the whole time.Â
âSpence?âÂ
âHm?â
He sounds concentrated on the task at handâyouâre entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But heâs never too busy for you.Â
âDoes it⌠umââ you pause to hold back a whineââwhat does it feel like for you?â
At this, he slows even further and chucklesâitâs a strained, slightly breathy sound.Â
âFor me?â
âMhm.â
âYou feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.â
The slight fry in Spencerâs voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that youâre giving him pleasure tooâitâs almost overwhelming. Thatâs when it starts feeling good.Â
âOhââ you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums.Â
âYeah, is that it, sweet girl?â
But you canât answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him.Â
âMmâitâsâit feelsâŚâ
âI know it does,â Spencer murmurs.
You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses.Â
âAh. Canât do that, lovely.â
âWhat? Did I hurt you?â
He laughs breathily.Â
âNo, you didnât hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.â
âSorry,â you whisper. ââM trying.â
âYou donât need to be sorry. I know youâre trying, baby, youâre being so good for me.â
Your nails skim his backâa small expression of a much larger desperation. Once heâs sure youâre relaxed around him, begins going faster.Â
Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when heâs actually fucking you. It feels like heâs everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. Itâs not at all like youâd imagined, and itâs perfect.Â
âWait, Spencer,â you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face.Â
âWhat is it?â
He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear.Â
âI wanna watch.â
For a moment his eyes dart between yours like heâs trying to determine what you really meanâbut you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.
Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies.Â
âThere,â he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. âLike that?â
But you canât answer, because youâre too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits.Â
âYeah,â you whisper. âLike that.â
Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are.Â
âGive me your leg,â he rasps after a few moments like that, and you donât know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt.Â
Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest pointânot pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didnât know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, youâd not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, youâve unlocked a small eternity. Thereâs no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine.Â
âI love you.â
Spencerâs breath pauses for a moment before heâs letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like thisânever having felt quite so adored and safe.Â
âI love you,â he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where heâs pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. Itâs a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complainingâbut so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything youâre feelingânot just the pleasure.Â
Although thatâs good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobodyâs ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him.Â
âJesus,â Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you canât bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. âListen to you, beautiful.â
When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, youâre conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when itâs so close. But on the otherâyouâre just as overwhelmed as he said youâd be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and youâre exhausted, but itâs so good.Â
âSpencer,â you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where theyâd normally be wide. âPlease donât stop.â
He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it.Â
âGood?â
You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him.Â
âSo good,â you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed thatâs fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. Youâre gasping for breath, back archingâand he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps.Â
âRight there? That's a good spot, isnât it?â
âOh, goâfuck, fuck!â
It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize thereâs a very lewd wet sound and you canât believe thatâs you.Â
âSpencer, youâreâoh my god, I love you,â you whine, and it sounds like youâre pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward.Â
But itâs too much all combined.Â
Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes outâbut Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers.Â
âDonât do that. Let me hear.â
You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cockâyou can feel yourself gushing.Â
âFuck, Iâm gonna cum,â you whine as if pained.Â
âYeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?â
He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You canât even respond beyond a desperate sob.Â
âShow me, baby. Iâm right here. Let go.â
You cum around his cock with a broken cry and itâs like a purge of every drop of angst youâd felt over the past week or soâhell, itâs a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?
The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. Itâs strong, and itâs so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and itâs too much even though itâs perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and itâs like every button on the damn panel has been hit.Â
âFuck, Iâm close,â Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. Itâs not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulderâbut the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesnât hurt, and youâre sure thereâs no skin broken, but itâs an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.
Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesnât exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after heâs finished heâs still fucking into youâalbeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like heâs reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you itâs as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If heâs as sensitive as you are now, itâs no small feat for him to keep going on like this. Itâs a testament to how much he doesnât want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but youâre beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach.Â
âSpencer,â you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. âBaby.â
He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you.Â
âJesus, fuck, I'm sorry,â he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).
Youâre still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and thatâs the only sign heâs still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly.Â
For a span of minutes, you stay like thatâsilent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You donât know where he ends and you begin and you donât need to. Itâs a blissful moment.Â
âHey.â
Spencerâs voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes.Â
âHi.â
He smiles.Â
âYouâre so pretty.â
âYou too,â you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back.Â
âHow do you feel?â
It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage.Â
âGood. Tired.â
You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you canât ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs.Â
âHereâstay here, Iâll get a wash cloth andââ
âItâs fine,â you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. âI just need⌠will you stay here for a little bit?â
âOf course,â he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, âwhatever you want.â
You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly youâre lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe.Â
âAngel girl,â he christens you fondly. More than anything, itâs an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark heâd made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile.Â
âYouâre an angel,â you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek.Â
âI thought you were asleep.â
You hum, âmm-mm,â looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon youâre attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesnât quite comply, probably for fear of crushing youârather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms.Â
Silence blankets the two of you, but itâs not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else youâve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each otherâs blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you donât need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You donât need an excuse to look at him like this. You donât need words any more than you need clothes. Itâs enough to just be.Â
âI love you,â he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way heâd already been looking at you, touching you.Â
âI know. I love you too.â
The smile flickers brighter on his face.Â
âAnd thank you.â
Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for.Â
âFor what?â
âFor loving me. And trusting me. ItâsâŚâ your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. Itâs incredibly endearing. âIt means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.â
You look down, thumbing at the sheets where youâve hoisted them over your bodies.Â
âYou do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?â
At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble youâre in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems.Â
âDonât cry,â he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. âYouâve cried so much, honey. Please donât cry.â
You sniffle, gathering yourself.Â
âIâm not. That would be pathetic.â
Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily youâd worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you donât care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin.Â
âWhat are you writing?â You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, âit feels like you were writing something.â
âShe Walks in Beauty.â
Your lips pull into a sleepy smile.Â
âThe Lord Byron poem?â
The first time youâd met Spencer, heâd inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byronâs works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty.Â
âYeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, Iâm a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, butââ
âWait, what about our first conversation did it?â Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. âAs I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.â
He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem heâs at now.Â
âYeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byronâs works. They were so insightful, and personal, Iâit kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldnât have read them all but I couldnât stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and⌠and I didnât stand a chance.â
Everything aches. Itâs a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.
âYou thought me writing âsister fuckerâ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?â
âOh, obscenely so. But now that Iâm looking back, I feel like⌠I feel like I canât remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just⌠waiting for you to catch up.â
You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color.Â
âWe were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.â
You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks.Â
âDefinitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they werenât invited to the wedding.â
You giggle and pretend the thought doesnât give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one heâs got between his own. Marriage had never been something youâd considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too.Â
âDid you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldnât be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.â
He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bellâbut you canât quite place her, sleepy as you are. Â
âWhat was her name?â
âAda Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, theyâre both massive historical figureheads. Thatâs extremely uncommon.â
You adore it when he goes off on these tangentsâthe passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly whatâs got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means heâs here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves.Â
Since he met you, thatâs all Spencer has wantedâfor you to love what he loves.Â
You want the same.Â
âPretty name,â you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. âTell me more.âÂ
-
part eight
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic
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A few weeks ago at Savers I bought secondhand Signet Classics editions of Henry IV, Part I and Henry V.
I own all of Shakespeare's plays in my 1972 Riverside Shakespeare that I inherited from my aunt who used it as a text in college for her Shakespeare class; I've had that for five years. I usually read Shakespeare plays in there but since it's a big ass tome it has its drawbacks, and also sometimes I'm just curious about the supplementary material that come in other editions of Shakespeare. Last year I read The Winter's Tale from Modern Library Classics (made in collaboration with the Royal Shakespeare Company) and I really loved their presentation of the text, so I wanted to branch out more to other editions as I continue on reading the plays. They were only 2 bucks each so like, fuck it why not, right?
It was also kind of a perfect coincidence because I had just finished reading Richard II, the first play in the Henriad tetralogy, so the next play I was going to read was gonna be 1 Henry IV anyway. And then I could read part two in the Riverside, and then Signet Henry V which concludes that historical series. Kind of serendipitous too because my Savers has heavily, heavily downsized its book section (the selection is just pitiful now) and these were two of the only plays they had at all, let alone by Shakespeare.
I finished the book I was reading that I was waiting on before starting 1 Henry IV, and until now I hadn't even really opened the new Signets. But the first thing I noticed when I flipped to the script was that there was writing; someone had annotated the pages. That's cool; I like finding that in secondhand books. I feel connected to the previous owners that way. That happens a lot w Savers books too. So then I opened Henry V, to see if it might have something. There's not much writing on the pages themselves from my brief skim but there is one small pink sticky note, with not much writing on it but just enough to the point where I think I can identify it belonged to, and must've been donated by, the same person who annotated 1 Henry IV.
But I do find it odd then, that 2 Henry IV wasn't there. I *doubt* someone would've bought that separately from part one or that the owner would've kept that, but donated its prequel and sequel. I guess I don't know for certain, but it seems unlikely. Oh well, I won't be able to verify that.
Idk. It makes me just wonder about the secondhand book market. I know most used booksellers don't rely solely on donations directly from their communities; there are tons of ways that people in the business buy up lots of used books. But I'm not in the business and I don't know about the logistics of how things are separated and organized, and why some things end up where.
Where is Henriad Donor's copy of Henry IV, Part II??? Who is this enigmatic Henriad Donor??? How did their books end up separated in a Greater Boston Savers???
I don't know.
#tales from diana#shakespeare#this doesn't have *much* to do w shakespeare but may as well tag it anyway#im not like torn up about it or anything bc i can just read part 2 in the riverside#if i didn't have that from the very beginning that'd be much more of a let down#having to hunt down one of shakespeare's lesser popular plays just to find the penultimate installment#but also if i hadn't had the riverside shakespeare for these five years everything would be different#as far as my love of shakespeare goes#ive now read 18 of 38 plays. when i finish 1 henry iv i will officially be halfway through them all.#and my selection and order of reading plays has mostly been random. arbitrary. bc i know i don't have to depend on finding a copy#i can do whichever one im curious about at the moment#one of my first comedies i read was all's well that ends well bc i just liked the title mainly. didn't know much else about it#whereas some more famous comedies like as you like it or much ado i still haven't read but i know about them from reputation.#id have probably read them if i were depending on access from stores and libraries to individual plays#hell. ive read five of the histories. what 21st century american would be reading these if she didn't own them all in one volume lol#and on my way to read more histories... it is what it is
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Sooner Or Late (Part 2)
Summary: Y/N flees to the north before the start of the war. When it is over, Aegon will stop at nothing to get her back.
18+ ONLY targcest, implied dubcon, mental illness & violence
Part 1
Y/N wakes without Aegonâs warmth, something she has grown accustomed to in these past years. She craves his touch, like air to breathe. Pacing through their chambers, until voices can be heard just beyond the door.
âI love her, mother.â Aegon says, in a hushed tone.
âThis is perverse, Aegon.â Alicent hisses, âshe scarcely recalls her own name. Or what befell her mother, let alone her husband-â
âI am her husband!â Aegon shouts, âI am.â
âBecause you slaughtered the first.â
âShe needs me,â Aegon whispers.
âThat is not her.â Alicent insists. âShe wants nothing but what you impose upon her to want.â
âIf you speak such slanders again, I will have your tongue removed.â
The cruel nature of his tone sends a chill down Y/Nâs spine. Unlocking something within her sheâs long since forgotten. The firstâŚher first husband. She collapses to the floor, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. Conjuring the memory of him.
Jonathan.
The man who loved her, truly. The man she now betrays, growing Aegonâs children in her womb. And her motherâŚher mother hasnât come to see her because-
The door swings open and Aegon storms in, finding his wife curled around herself on the floor. âOh, my dearest love.â He coos, sinking down to join her. âCome here, darling.â He pulls her into his lap. âAre you alright?â
âI could not find you.â She tells him, clutching his tunic in her fist. âI was frightened.â Y/N is making a show of it, surely. She does not need Aegon. She canât.
âThere, there, my love.â Aegon tuts, âI am so terribly sorry.â
âI fear something has happened to me.â
âHow do you mean?â
âI have been here too long and Iâve changed.â
âThat is what you were meant to do.â Aegon assures her. âThis is where youâre meant to be, thatâs all. Nothing to fear.â
Y/N forces herself to nod. Knowing now more than ever she must leave, before itâs too late.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Her son, Jon, is the only one made privy to her plans. The younger children she will leave to Aegon. Despite it all, sheâs come to care for him but she cannot stay.
âThere is a ship leaving port tonight.â Y/N says, holding her sonâs hand as she breaks the news. âI should like for us to be on it.â
âAnd father?â Jonathan asks.
Gods noâŚthey have been here too long. âJust us. This will be our secret.â
He nods, though he doesnât understand.
âGo now, enjoy your toys. I must ready for the journey.â
ââââââââââââââââââââââââ
It is nearly time, Y/N makes for her sonâs rooms, with nothing more than the clothes on her back. She knows the guardâs schedule wellâŚand Aegonâs. There will be plenty of time to board the ship.â
âAnd where do you think youâre going?â Aegon.
Her blood runs cold, turning to him with a forced smile, âto find you, my love.â
âMmm,â he hums closing the distance between them. âWere you now?â
âThe babe is restless,â Y/N takes his hand, resting it on her belly.
Aegon smiles, feeling the child stir beneath his palm, âmissing their father, Iâd wager.â
âMayhaps.â
He leans in closer, until his lips brush her ear. âImagine how terribly theyâd miss me, had you gotten away with it.â
No, she shrinks away from him.
âAh, ah, ah.â Aegon drapes both arms around her waist, holding her close, their child pressed between them. âItâs over. These fantasies you have of leaving me.â He spits the penultimate word like venom.
Y/N whimpers.
âIt was our boy who warned me of your plotting. I have never been more proud. He will be rewarded handsomely.â Aegon muses, âI hope this helps you to understand, you can never leave.â
âWhat more do you want of me?â Y/N sobs, shifting between feet, in the small space between them.
âEverything.â Aegon takes her face between his hands.
âYou have taken everything!â
âYour life should be miserable. One tragedy after another, until you learn that only my hand can spare you. But I do not wish to torture you to death.â He scoffs. âI want a life with you, why wonât you give me that?â
âYou filled my head with lies. You seek to carve out all that I am, to make way for who you want me to be. Docile and subservient. If you truly love me, how could you?â
âThat is the only way youâll stay with me.â Aegon strokes his thumb over her tear stained cheek. âIt is such a shame that Iâll have to break you all over again.â
Y/N shoves at him. âTo the seven hells with you.â
His mouth traps hers, in a searing kiss. âThere she is.â His tongue traces the seam of her lips, only to be met by her teeth. âMy fiery girl.â He chuckles, âit is a pleasure to see you again.â
Aegon taglist:
@oh-you-mean-me @niyahnotnia
#house of the dragon#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen#hotd aegon#aegon targaryen smut#aegon imagine#aegon targaryen fanfic
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We move forward, 'cause we can't go back...
It's the EIGHTH anniversary of Handplates, and the first one after I finished the comic back in July! I decided to dig up a very old wip that I never finished and finally do it. I've always loved WeMoveForward by The Midnight, and I think it applies not only to the comic itself but also this period after it... there's no way to go back to when I was doing it, only moving forward after it's done.
Even more appropriately, since I did this wip, these characters all moved forward even further... even as this sat in my files, they moved forward, in a sense. I don't know, the song gives me a sort of plaintive, longing, bittersweet feeling... it's hard to explain.
I had a very insistent voice in my head that always made me do a Handplates page over the years I was working on it, no matter what happened. I wasn't sure if that voice would ever stop, even when it's done, but it has! It's gotten quieter now, mostly only nagging me about other projects I should be working on (Defrag, the Ace Attorney/Frozen fic, web design, fic ideas, art ideas...) whenever I'm doing something, much like it did before I started the comic.
How I feel about Handplates finishing though is strange. At times it doesn't feel like it's over, even if I don't feel like I need to do another page. At other times I get sad thinking about it and I miss it, and other times I look back on it with amazement that I was able to do it. Sometimes I look back on it and think about what was happening in my life at that time, and sometimes when I look at it it's unreal and it's hard to believe I even did it, like someone else did the whole thing. It's like it's there but it's not, it's present but it isn't. It's a very strange feeling, it's hard to describe or pin down. I know it'll always be with me in some way, but it is strange to be able to focus so much attention on other things without that feeling of having to set aside a few days to do a page every two weeks... not bad or anything, but I'm not used to it still.
I don't know! When I read the comments on the last page a lot of them made me cry, especially those talking about how the comic had been their childhood, and now their childhood is over. It was sad to think that I had a part in something like that ending... but it ends for everyone, no matter what you do. We, you and me, everyone... we move forward, 'cause we can't go back. That line was so evocative for me that I even used it as a chapter title for the penultimate chapter on Comicfury.
I don't know, just nostalgic thoughts! I don't know if that's the right word for it... but thank you to all of you who read it and enjoyed it. Even now I hear from new people coming to it and reading through it again now that it's done. Even if it's finished, it's still new to people just finding it. It's still "living" in a sense. And thanks to those of you who stuck around even though it's done, I appreciate it. |D
(As a note, the Gaster ukagaka has a surprise if you boot him on the anniversary after seeing the brothers, if you haven't done that)
[index] [patreon]
#undertale#handplates#asgore#gaster#sans#papyrus#asriel#z art#man i like never draw asriel#i always feel guilty when i move on to something different than what brought people to me#but my interests never really die they just fall asleep for a little while#they always come back eventually
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Bodyguard! Gojo x K-pop Idol Male reader
Part 1
Part 2
Notes: Sorry I was inactive for so long đ the Kuroo x male reader is killing me idk what to write so I js thought to myself what if I'd just made one for Gojo? Well anyways yes there's going to be a part 2 of this and yes I'm working on Kuroo đ
Word count: 2400
Warnings: none đ
-
Oh, to live a life like yours. Youâre successful beyond measure, with a voice that can mesmerize, moves that can captivate, and a bank account that reflects your hard-earned fortune. But more than all of this, you are stunningly attractive. Fans fall to their knees at the mere sight of you, screaming your name with fervent adoration. Every world tour you embark on with your group sees you receiving the loudest chants, the most impassioned cries. You are undeniably the favorite, the center of attention in every sense.
Your popularity knows no bounds, transcending borders and cultures. Men and women alike would go to extraordinary lengths just to catch a glimpse of your perfect figure. Who wouldnât? Perfection seems to be synonymous with your name. Every time your group makes a comeback, it is you who shines the brightest. The camera adores you, the spotlight gravitates towards you, and almost all of the lines in your songs seem to be crafted just for your voice. You are, without a doubt, the nucleus of your groupâs immense success.
The world is in awe of you. Fanboys and fangirls from every corner of the globe idolize you, dream about you, and dedicate their lives to following your every move. Yet, amidst this whirlwind of fame and admiration, one thing perplexes everyone. Why, with all your perfection, are you still single? Any idol would be ecstatic to be with you, regardless of gender. Your charm knows no boundaries, and your appeal is universal. Itâs a mystery that keeps fans up at night, fantasizing about the possibility of one day being the one to capture your heart.
Speculation runs rampant. Fans weave intricate fantasies where they imagine themselves by your side, filling the role of your perfect partner. Despite their daydreams, no one can figure out why you remain unattached. It's a paradox that adds to your allure, making you even more enigmatic and desirable. They imagine a million scenarios, all the while hoping that perhaps, just perhaps, they might be the one to break your spell of solitude.
But what the world doesn't know, what they couldn't possibly fathom, is that you've been in a relationship for almost two months now. The very day your group made its most recent comeback, you found yourself entangled in a romance that has brought a new kind of light into your life. The secrecy surrounding your relationship only adds to its intensity. Itâs a connection built on mutual understanding, shared dreams, and a love that transcends the superficial adoration you receive from the masses.
The reveal of your significant other will be nothing short of earth-shattering for your fans. Theyâve spent countless hours speculating about who could possibly be worthy of your affections. When the truth comes out, it will send shockwaves through your fanbase. The person you've chosen isn't just any idol; they are someone who matches your perfection, complements your strengths, and fills your heart in a way that no one else could.
In the end, the world will see that behind your flawless exterior, behind the spotlight and the chants, there is a person capable of deep, profound love. Your fans will be surprised, yes, but they will also come to understand that even someone as perfect as you deserves to experience the joy and intimacy of a genuine relationship. And as they daydream about marrying you, they'll have to come to terms with the fact that your heart already belongs to someone extraordinary.
-
4:00 a.m. The plane touched down, marking the penultimate stop of your extensive world tour. Just one more show remained before you could finally indulge in a well-deserved rest. You gathered your handheld bag, stepping off the aircraft with a sense of weariness and anticipation.
As you approached the "Arrivals" section of the quiet airport, you noticed the stark contrast between the calm you expected and the frenzy that awaited you. Despite the ungodly hour, paparazzi had gathered in droves, their cameras flashing incessantly, almost blinding you with their intensity. The cries of âY/N! Over here! Y/N! Y/N!â pierced the early morning silence, mingling with the shouts of enthusiastic fans who seemed undeterred by the time.
You sighed, mustering a smile for the cameras. It was an experience you had grown accustomed to, yet it never ceased to astonish you how dedicated your fans were, even at such an hour. As you continued to navigate through the cacophony of lights and voices, your mind drifted to the comfort of the hotel room awaiting you.
Suddenly, the chaotic crowd shifted, and out of nowhere, a fan broke through, sprinting towards you with an intensity that caught you off guard. Your heart raced, but before you could react, your personal bodyguard, Gojo, intervened. He stepped in front of the fan with a menacing presence, his cold stare stopping them in their tracks. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, his voice low and threatening.
The fan recoiled, visibly shaken by Gojoâs imposing figure, and quickly retreated back into the crowd. Gojo turned to you, concern etched on his face. "You okay, sir?" he asked, his voice softening as he etched a reassuring smile.
"Y-yes, thank you!" you stammered, bowing slightly as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. You were grateful for his protection, though his proximity always seemed to make your heart flutter in a way you couldnât quite explain.
A van soon arrived to transport you and your group to the hotel. The bodyguards formed a protective circle around you all, ensuring your safe passage into the vehicle. The drive was mercifully short, a brief 30-minute journey that allowed you a moment of respite from the relentless pace of your tour.
Upon reaching the hotel, the sense of exhaustion weighed heavily upon you. The events of the day had drained you more than usual, and all you could think about was the comfort of a bed. The receptionist greeted you with a polite smile, handing over the keycard to your personal room.
You thanked them and made your way to the elevator, your body moving on autopilot. The elevator doors closed, and you leaned against the wall, letting out a deep breath. The journey to your designated floor felt like an eternity, each second dragging as your mind wandered to thoughts of sleep.
Finally, the doors opened, and you stepped out, navigating the corridor to your room. You swiped the keycard, the door unlocking with a soft click. As you entered, you took in the serene ambiance of the room, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The bed looked inviting, and you could almost feel the soft sheets against your skin.
You set your bag down and took a moment to appreciate the solitude. The tour had been exhilarating, but it had also taken its toll. As you prepared for bed, your thoughts drifted to Gojoâs protective presence and the fleeting moment of connection you felt with him. It was a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of your life, a reminder that even in the chaos, there were moments of genuine human connection.
Finally, you slipped under the covers, letting the exhaustion wash over you. The last thought before you succumbed to sleep was of the final show tomorrow and the promise of rest that lay just beyond it. The world outside could wait; for now, you were content to let the quiet embrace of sleep take you away.
'
You woke up with a sudden woozy feeling, your eyes reluctantly opening to the glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains. "3:00 p.m.," you groaned, checking your phone for the time. You stretched, blinked, and smacked your lips as you stared at the blank wall in front of you, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
"Woof woof!" Your dog, Cherry, whom you managed to bring along despite the hectic schedule of your world tour, barked enthusiastically at you. He wagged his tail back and forth, jumping onto your lap with a joyful energy that brought a smile to your face. You patted his head, feeling the softness of his fur beneath your fingers. "Good morning, Cherry," you murmured, though it was well past noon. "Let's go. I'm so hungry..." You squeezed his cheeks affectionately before getting up and heading out of your room.
Before thinking about food, you decided to freshen up with a shower. Grabbing a towel from the neatly arranged drawer, you made your way to the bathroom. The hot water cascading down your body felt rejuvenating, washing away the exhaustion from your travels and performances. You stood there for a while, letting the steam envelop you, a rare moment of peace in your otherwise hectic life.
Once you were done, you dried off and rummaged through your luggage, looking for something comfortable to wear. Settling on a plain shirt and a pair of black jogging pants, you felt a sense of relief. The casual attire was a stark contrast to the elaborate costumes you wore on stage, and it felt good to just be yourself for a while.
With two days until your next concert, you decided to take it easy and rest. You picked up your phone and thought about how to pass the time. An idea struck youâwhy not do a livestream on Instagram? It had been a while since you connected with your fans in such a direct way, and it seemed like a good way to unwind.
Setting up the livestream, you watched as the viewer count quickly climbed, reaching 15,000 and still rising. "How's your day?" you read aloud from one of the comments. "Nothing much really, I'm just soooo tired," you chuckled, scrolling through more questions. The familiar 'will you marry me Y/N' and 'are you dating anyone' questions popped up, causing you to smile wryly. It was flattering, but also a bit overwhelming.
"Y/N, what do you think of Kim Chaewon?" another question asked. You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Hmm, she's nice, I guess. Also, if this is one of your guys' traps, I'm not falling for those anymore." You stared into the camera, your fans admiring you through their screens.
As you continued to interact with your fans, you suddenly heard the sound of your door opening. A wave of panic washed over you. Had someone broken in? How could they have gotten past security? You had sworn you locked the door. Your mind raced with possibilities.
The door opened wider, and you saw a white-haired man kneeling, putting his shoes away. "Babeeee, what do you want to eat? Do you want to get it delivered, or do you wanna go out?" His voice was casual, but it sent a shock through you. You gasped, trying to quickly turn off the livestream, but it was too late.
The comments exploded in a frenzy:
"BABE?????"
"WHO IS THAT đđ"
"HE'S DATING SOMEONE!?!?!?!?"
"IT SOUNDS LIKE A GUY"
"OMGGGGGGGGGGGGG"
"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT BABE MEAN???"
You panicked, letting out a little squeal as you finally managed to turn off the livestream and shut your phone. "GOJO!" you screamed, your heart pounding in your chest.
"What?" he replied, looking at you with a mix of confusion and amusement.
-
"What do I do? What do I do? What do I do..." You paced back and forth, muttering the same words over and over, your mind racing. Gojo watched you, a smirk playing on his lips.
"You know, it's not half as bad," he said finally. "People will know that you're my property from now on."
"Still! I never wanted them to find out this way..." you sighed, collapsing onto the couch beside him. The weight of the situation settled over you, a mix of anxiety and resignation.
"It'll be okay. No matter what, I'm always with you." He reached out, touching your chin gently before pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back tightly, the comfort of his embrace grounding you.
"Thanks..." you whispered, feeling a sense of calm wash over you despite the chaos that had just erupted.
After a moment, you pulled back, determination in your eyes. "I need to do this right," you said. "I'll post a confession about us dating. It's better than letting rumors spiral out of control."
Gojo nodded, his expression serious. "Whatever you decide, I'm here for you."
Taking a deep breath, you picked up your phone, opening your Instagram app once more. You composed a heartfelt post, explaining how you had been dating your bodyguard, Gojo, for a while and how much he meant to you. You acknowledged that the livestream slip-up wasn't how you wanted to reveal your relationship, but you hoped your fans would understand and support you.
As you hit 'post', a sense of relief washed over you. It was out there now, and there was no turning back. You and Gojo sat together, waiting for the inevitable reactions. Notifications started flooding in almost immediately, a mix of shock, support, and a few inevitable negative comments. But overall, the response was more positive than you had expected.
Your fans, though surprised, expressed their happiness for you, many of them emphasizing their continued support no matter what. It was a heartwarming realization that even in your highly publicized life, there were people who genuinely cared about your happiness.
You turned to Gojo, a smile playing on your lips. "Looks like we're officially out in the open now," you said.
He grinned back, squeezing your hand. "About time," he replied. "Now, about that foodâI'm starving."
You laughed, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Let's get something delivered. I think we've had enough excitement for one day."
As you placed the order, you felt a sense of peace. The world knew about your relationship, and while it wasn't how you planned, it felt good to no longer hide. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges came your way. And with a concert in two days, you had plenty to focus on. But for now, you were content to enjoy a quiet evening together, knowing that no matter what, you had each other.
#x male reader#anime x male reader#fanfic#x you#gay#jujutsu gojo#gojo satoru#jjk x male reader#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk fanfic#gojo satoru x male reader#gojo x male reader#gojo fanfic#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#jjk gojo#gay fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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the finish line part 3
summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.
warnings: nothing
word counter: 6122
author's note: english is not my first language, penultimate part
tags: @ferakillia @bunnies-p1tst0p @maluzets55
Determined to work things out, you called Lando and asked to speak in person. Even though deep down you already knew it would be a difficult and probably painful conversation, you also knew you couldnât keep running away from your problems. Lando agreed to meet you at the hotel cafeteria, though his tone on the phone sounded tense and distant.
As you got ready, your stomach was turning. You thought back to the pictures and messages youâd received, the missed calls Lando had made to you after being discovered, and everything that had happened between you and Max. You took a breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, wanting to feel safe, and walked out to Landoâs hotel.
When you got to the cafeteria, you found him already waiting for you at a table in the back. He had a stiff posture, his hands folded in front of him on the table and his gaze fixed on the coffee in front of him. His eyes lifted slightly when he saw you arrive, and you noticed the mix of discomfort and guilt he was trying to hide under a calm facade.
You sat in silence, watching him carefully. After a few seconds, he broke the silence.
âLook, I donât want⌠this conversation to get out of hand,â Lando began, his voice wavering. âI know youâre upset, and Iâm clear on why. I just want you to know that⌠it wasnât what it seemed.â
You looked at him, eyes narrowing. His words sounded forced, as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying. It hurt you to see him like this, so changed, so full of insecurity.
âIt wasnât what it seemed, Lando?â you asked, keeping your tone firm. âI saw the photos. Everyone has seen them.â
He frowned, clearly upset.
âYou donât have to make this any harder,â he replied in a defensive tone. âIt was a mistake. I was just⌠I needed to distract myself.â But that doesn't change how I feel about you.
A mixture of anger and disappointment ran through you. You had expected a sincere apology, something more than excuses and empty promises. You tried to remain calm, but your words came out with the coldness of truth.
"How I feel has changed too, Lando," you said quietly. "All of this... I don't know if it makes sense."
Lando lowered his gaze, but you noticed that he still maintained that defensive air. It was clear that he wasn't fully assuming his responsibility; he didn't seem willing to face the consequences of his decisions.
"So this is it?" he asked in a bitter tone. "For a mistake? You weren't even there to support me like you always do. And what was I supposed to do?" His words sounded reproachful, as if he were trying to transfer part of the blame to you.
You bit your lip, holding back your fury. You knew it had been difficult for him not to have you around, but that didn't justify his attitude. Finally, you gathered your courage and faced the issue once and for all.
âThis isnât just about what happened, Lando. Thereâs something bigger going on here,â you told him firmly. âI need some time to think, to get clear on what I really want. I canât stay in a relationship where I constantly have to worry about whether or not youâll do the right thing when Iâm gone.â
He gulped, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine pain in his eyes. But instead of acknowledging the problem, he chose to back away once again.
âDo what you want then,â he said, letting out a frustrated sigh and looking away. âIf you need time, go ahead. Iâm not going to stop you.â
Those words were confirmation of everything you had felt during this last stage of your relationship. Without further ado, you stood up, leaving one last glance at the one you had considered your partner for so long. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and then you turned around and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.
As you walked away, you felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. You had hoped that this conversation would bring you some sort of peace, a reconciliation, or at least a heartfelt explanation. But instead, it only confirmed what you already feared: perhaps it was time to put an end to it.
Back in your hotel room, you took a seat on the bed and looked around, trying to process everything that had happened. The room was silent, and the weight of your decision began to settle in, bringing with it a wave of conflicting emotions. You pulled out your phone and, almost without thinking, opened the message Max had sent you hours ago, wondering how your conversation with Lando had gone.
Without much hesitation, you wrote him a short reply.
You: âWe just talked⌠and I think I need some time to sort out my feelings.â
After a few minutes, the phone vibrated. Max had replied:
Max: âDo whatever you need. Just remember that if you decide to move on, Iâm here for you. You donât have to face it alone.â
Reading his words, you felt a small spark of calm, as if the weight of everything that had happened had lightened a little. You knew that this time away would be necessary to understand what it was that you really wanted, but there was one thing clear in all of this: you needed to feel authentic again, without the shadows of a relationship that had begun to consume more than it offered.
Even though you wanted to take some time off, the last race of the year was being held in Abu Dhabi, and you had to attend. For you, the trip had a professional purpose: the promotion of Rolex. Despite having distanced yourself from Lando and having spent a few days trying to find clarity about your feelings, you knew that this race would also be the closing of an intense and emotional season.
Dressed elegantly, you wore a shiny Rolex watch that caught the light with every movement. As you walked through the paddock, you felt the gazes of some acquaintances and other members of the industry; everyone knew that you had been a constant figure in Lando's team, and now it seemed strange to see you in an independent context.
While you were fulfilling your promotional tasks, you crossed paths with Max. He wore his usual determined expression, but this time there was something different in his gaze. When he saw you, his eyes lit up slightly, as if something in him had made up his mind. You noticed that, despite the crowd, his steps were heading straight towards you, with a confidence that made your pulse race.
"Hey," he said, smiling slightly. "I didn't think I'd find you here so early. How have you been?" His tone was warm, close, something different from the previous times.
âI'm⌠fine, I guessâ you answered, trying to sound casual, although the closeness made you feel a mix of nervousness and curiosity. âI had to be here for Rolex. You know what this sponsorship thing is like.â
He nodded, and for a moment they remained silent, watching the hustle and bustle of preparations around them.
âI know things have been complicated for you latelyâ Max said, with a more serious tone than usual. âAnd I don't want to seem nosy, but⌠I haven't stopped thinking about what we talked about last time.â
The sincerity in his words threw you off a little. You had tried to stay distant, focus on yourself, and not think about everything you had experienced. But there was Max, with his penetrating gaze and his usual confidence, willing to open up in a way that you hadn't seen in him until now.
âI'm not here to pressure youâ he continued, looking into your eyes. âI just wanted you to know that⌠Iâm willing to fight for you, if you just give me a chance.â
His confession resonated with you, breaking the barrier you had built up over the past few weeks. You felt like it wasnât just a passing statement; there was a depth to his words that made you doubt everything you had tried to rationalize. Deep down, something in you had been waiting to hear this, though you refused to admit it.
âMaxâŚâ you began, not knowing exactly how to express what you felt. âI donât know if this is the right thing to do. After everything thatâs happened, Iâm not sure that getting more involved is the best thing for either of us.â
He nodded, listening to each word patiently.
âI know,â he replied. âBut thereâs something Iâve learned this season, and that is that important opportunities arenât always the easiest ones. Iâve been avoiding speaking clearly to you because I didnât want to make things more complicated for you. But if Iâm honest, I canât pretend that I donât care about you.â
The seriousness in his eyes left you speechless. He wasnât the usual Max, arrogant and competitive; he was someone vulnerable, showing a part of him that was rarely seen. And although a part of you wanted to keep putting up barriers, another, deeper part of you was starting to give in to his words and his sincerity.
You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.
âWhat happened with Lando was difficult⌠and I donât want you to be just a distraction, Max.â It wouldn't be fair to either of you.
He took a step closer, not invading your personal space, but enough for you to feel his presence more intensely.
"I'm not someone who'll settle for being a distraction," he said with a slight smile, but his tone was firm. "What I feel for you is real. And if you give me the chance, I'm willing to show you that I'm someone you can trust."
His words enveloped you, making you feel a warmth and security that you hadn't experienced in a long time. The hardness of the breakup with Lando was still present, but Max's presence offered you an alternative, a chance to rediscover what you really wanted and, perhaps, to be happy in a fuller sense.
After a few seconds of silence, you took a breath, letting your own emotions take control.
"I don't know what will happen after all this..." you murmured, looking at the floor for a moment before looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I think I'm willing to see where this takes us."
The smile on his face was almost imperceptible, but his eyes shone with a mix of determination and tenderness.
âThen Iâll start showing it from now on,â he said, taking your hand gently. âI donât want you to feel pressured, I just want you to know that Iâm here for you. No matter how long it takes.â
After that brief exchange with Max, he said goodbye with a wink and walked away, leaving behind a feeling of anticipation that you couldnât shake. You watched as he walked towards the Red Bull paddock, surrounded by his team, while you stood still for a moment, trying to clear your thoughts.
You decided it was time to move as well. You walked through the paddock area, the hustle and bustle around you. Drivers, engineers and journalists came and went, all focused on their own roles.
Suddenly, you saw him. Lando was up ahead, briefly chatting with one of the McLaren mechanics. He turned slightly, and for a moment, his eyes met yours. It was an instant, there was no smile, no nod of recognition, just eye contact that spoke of everything beneath the surface. He seemed distant, almost cold, and before you could say anything, he looked away and kept walking.
You stood still, feeling a knot form in your stomach. That small gesture, or lack thereof, hit you harder than you expected. You knew Lando was in his zone of concentration, but you couldnât ignore the growing emotional distance that seemed to exist between you since you arrived in Qatar.
You took a deep breath and forced yourself to keep walking, telling yourself that you couldnât read too much into a simple glance. But the awkwardness remained.
As you left the paddock area you went straight to the VIP area to watch the race. The race was certainly a spectacle from the start. Max started from pole, while Lando started from second position.
From the first lap, Max took the lead, controlling the pace with ruthless precision. Behind him, Lando followed closely, pushing at every opportunity. But as the laps progressed, it became clear that Red Bull had fine-tuned their car to perfection. Max seemed untouchable.
Lando, however, was not giving up. He kept fighting, looking for every millimetre of advantage, every opportunity to close the gap. Until lap 38 came around. It all happened in the blink of an eye. In the fast corner before the main straight, Lando's car lost grip. Perhaps a miscalculation or just bad luck, but the McLaren hit the wall with a sharp impact. The yellow flag waved immediately, and your heart skipped a beat.
From your spot, your eyes were fixed on the giant screen, watching anxiously. Lando got out of the car quickly, waving his hands to indicate that he was okay, but you could see the frustration in his every move. He was furious.
As the McLaren team scrambled to pick up the remains of the car, the race continued. Max continued to dominate, and with each lap, his victory became more inevitable. Finally, he crossed the finish line in first place, securing the race win. Fireworks lit up the sky, and the Red Bull team erupted in celebrations.
When it was all over, you headed towards the McLaren paddock, where you saw him surrounded by his team, his face grim and his brow furrowed. There was no trace of the carefree smile he normally wore.
As he spoke to his engineers, you locked eyes with him for a brief second. He looked exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. But he didn't say anything, and neither did you. Without exchanging words, you turned around and began walking towards the exit.
The day had been intense, and you needed time to process it all. You took a cab back to your hotel, watching the city lights flicker through the window as you sank into your thoughts. Lando was fine physically, and that was the most important thing.
Once in your room, you kicked off your shoes and dropped into bed. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions: worry about Lando, what you had talked about with Max, and a growing confusion within yourself. You picked up your phone and left it on the nightstand. You didn't know whether to expect a text from Lando or Max. Or maybe neither.
You sighed and closed your eyes.
You had barely laid down when the glow of your phone illuminated the darkness of the room. For a moment, you thought it might be Lando, perhaps to talk about what happened at the race, but when you saw Maxâs name on the screen, your heart skipped a little.
Max: âI hope youâre okay after all the drama today. Listen, I was thinking⌠Iâm going home to Monaco to rest before the next season. How about you come with me? Itâd be great to have you here.â
The message was direct and blunt, typical of Max. You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly on the keyboard. The proposal took you by surprise, but at the same time, there was a part of you that had anticipated it.
You knew that accepting that invitation would involve much more than a simple vacation. It wasn't just the getaway to Monaco, it was everything that it meant: getting away from Lando once and for all from your own doubts, and facing the growing attraction you felt for Max.
You bit your lip, thinking of all the possible consequences. But then, your fingers began to move almost of their own volition.
You: "I don't know if it's a good idea, Max. This is all complicated."
It wasn't long before he responded.
Max: âComplicated? Maybe. But sometimes the complicated is the most exciting. You don't have to decide now. Think about it. I promise it will be an unforgettable trip."
You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heartbeat. The silence of the room surrounded you, but your thoughts were chaos. You could imagine Max in his suite, confident and relaxed, waiting for your answer as if he already knew what it would be.
Several hours passed, with the conversation on hold. Finally, you found yourself typing something you didn't think would come out of you.
You: "Okay. I'll go. But only because I need a break, and Monaco sounds like a good place to clear my mind."
His reply came almost instantly.
Max: "Yeah, sure, just for that, but perfect. You won't regret it. Let me know when you get there and I'll take care of everything.â
You stared at your phone after reading those words, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had made a decision that could change everything, and while a part of you was scared, another couldn't wait to see what that vacation would bring.
The day of your flight to Monaco came faster than you expected. You had been tossing and turning in bed all night, thinking about what this new stage meant. Max had been clear in his invitation, and although you were hesitant at first, you couldn't help but feel excited about the trip. What started as a simple getaway to relax had turned into an opportunity to get to know a different side of Max. A side that until now you had only seen from afar.
You took an early morning flight, without looking back. As the plane flew through the sky, you immersed yourself in thoughts about everything you had left behind.
You arrived in Monaco around afternoon, and the airport was full of tourists, celebrities, and important figures. The warm, salty Mediterranean air mixed with the hustle and bustle of the people, and you could feel the vibrant energy emanating from the city streets.
You picked up your suitcase and quickly headed to the car Max had arranged for you. You knew you couldn't miss a second of this glamorous city, and you felt a little nervous. What did Max expect from you? How would all this change after a few days in his company?
The car drove through the narrow, elegant streets of Monaco, passing by the famous casinos, luxury yachts, and hills overlooking the sea. The scenery was stunning, as always, but even more impressive was what you felt when you thought of Max waiting for you.
When you arrived at Max's residence, a luxurious apartment overlooking the port, a butler greeted you with a smile and led you to the door. The suite was everything you had imagined: modern, spacious, and with a stunning view of the sea and yachts. The decor was elegant but warm, with touches of wood and soft colors. It wasn't just any place; it was a place designed for someone like him, someone accustomed to perfection.
You left your suitcase on the bed and looked at the clock. You knew Max had to be nearby. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard the door open. You turned around and there he was, Max, with his characteristic air of confidence, but with something different in his gaze. It was as if, for a moment, everything was just for the two of them.
"Do you like the place?" he asked, approaching with a smile on his face.
âItâs⌠amazing,â I replied, looking around, trying to hide how nervous I felt.
Max took a step towards you, his gaze locked on yours, and although he seemed relaxed, there was something about his posture that gave away his interest. There was a spark in his eyes, something that made your heart beat a little faster. He moved even closer, and before you could react, his hands rested on your waist.
âI wasnât sure if you wanted to come, but Iâm glad you agreed,â he said quietly, almost as if he was reading your thoughts.
You were in the heart of Monaco, and although the surroundings were luxurious and surrounded by powerful people, all that really mattered at that moment was the silent connection you shared with Max.
âWhat do we do now?â you asked, the nervousness starting to dissipate a little.
âWhatever you want,â Max replied, with a mischievous smile. âBut, if you ask me, I think we could start with dinner.â
Before you could say anything else, he took you by the hand and led you through the apartment, into the open kitchen.
Maxâs kitchen was just as modern as the rest of the place, with white marble surfaces that reflected the warm light from the lamps. Max began pulling fresh ingredients out of the fridge, inviting you to join him without thinking twice. At first, you were hesitant, but something in his eyes invited you to stay.
âDo you know how to cook?â you asked as you watched him pull out tomatoes, basil, and olive oil.
Max smiled mischievously, a glint in his blue eyes. âI know a little. But only if you donât mind getting your hands a little dirty.â
You laughed at the idea. âIâm not a chef, but I can try.â
And so, between laughs and small jokes, they began to prepare dinner together. Max had decided to make fresh pasta with homemade pesto, one of his favorite dishes. While he was busy with the pasta, you took care of the salad, chopping vegetables and arranging the ingredients carefully. It was a simple, but shared moment, and the dynamic between the two of you felt natural, as if you had been doing this for years.
As the preparation progressed, the distance between you disappeared. Max gently guided you, giving you instructions on how to handle the ingredients, his hands sometimes brushing yours as you passed utensils or adjusted something in the pot. The conversation flowed easily, and you realized that, without thinking about it, you felt more comfortable with him than you had ever imagined.
When the pasta was ready, Max served it elegantly on two large plates, and together you sat at the table, enjoying the view offered by the balcony as the sun began to set behind the hills. The golden light illuminated the room and reflected off the glass, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The table was well set, but the conversation and proximity made everything seem much more intimate than it actually was.
âThis is amazing,â you said, taking a bite of the pasta and nodding. âYou surprise me.â
Max smiled, with a hint of pride. âI told you, I knew youâd appreciate it.â
The evening continued with laughter and anecdotes, talking about other things, about travel and what you liked to do in your free time. Max seemed genuinely interested in you, in your opinions, in what you thought about the small details of life. There was something so real and accessible about him at that moment, that you completely forgot the fact that, hours before, you had arrived in Monaco with a host of mixed emotions. Now, all that mattered was the present moment.
At the end of dinner, as the plates were empty and the wine glasses were slowly emptying, Max leaned slightly towards you, his gaze locked on yours. The room was quiet, the sound of the distant city, and for a second, it seemed like there were only the two of you left, sharing that space.
âYou know?â he said, his voice soft, âI think this has been much better than any dinner I could have planned. Iâm happy you came.â
You, without thinking too much about it, smiled and nodded. âIâm happy too. I didnât imagine it would end like this.â
Max smiled again, and this time, the expression on his face was different. Softer, more approachable. It wasnât just the confident, competitive Max from racing, but a version of him that seemed more vulnerable, more willing to share something more personal.
The chemistry between you was clear, and for the first time, you realized it wasn't just a superficial attraction. There was something much deeper, something you didn't know if it could be defined with words. But at that moment, there was no need. Being there, with Max, cooking, laughing, and sharing such a simple moment, was all you needed to know.
As the days passed in Monaco, the connection between you and Max became more and more evident.
Mornings were quiet, usually spent touring the city or relaxing on the terrace of his apartment while the sun slowly slipped over the horizon, tinting the sky in golden colors. Max was always around, whether it was to share a coffee in silence or to talk about what he was thinking for the next race. Often, their conversations were light, but there were times when, without warning, Max would drop a phrase or a confession that showed you a side of him you had never seen before.
One day, after lunch together, Max drove you through the mountains surrounding Monaco. As they drove along the winding roads, he began to talk, unprompted, about his life, about what it had taken to become who he was.
âMy career isnât just the podium, you know,â he said, looking out the window as the car moved down the road. âItâs everything Iâve had to leave behind: the parties, the relationships, the sacrifices⌠There are so many things people donât see, so many difficult decisions.â
You looked at him with a mix of surprise and admiration. Max had never been a person who opened up easily, always so focused on his goal, so focused on winning and perfection. But now, he was speaking to you with brutal honesty, as if somehow, he had decided to share the deepest part of himself with you.
âI know,â you answered calmly, not knowing what else to say, but you looked at him with genuine understanding. âYouâve been at the center of all this since you were so young.â Itâs not easy, and people often donât understand what it entails.
Max nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the landscape as the car continued on its way.
âThatâs why itâs hard to trust people sometimes, you know?â he said, his voice laced with subtle melancholy. âEveryone expects something from you, and sometimes you donât even know if people like you for who you are, or for what you represent.â
A wave of empathy washed over you. Max had lived a life full of expectations, external pressures, pain, and it wasnât hard to see how all of that had made him close some emotional doors. But in that moment, it seemed like you had somehow entered his inner circle. You had gotten him to open up, to share something so personal.
What surprised you the most was the way he understood you. It wasnât just that Max listened to you; he understood you. In every conversation, in every gesture, there was something about him that seemed to sense what you felt, what you needed without you having to explain it with words. He wasnât like Lando, who, although he had always been affectionate, had never shown that level of deep understanding. Lando had his own way of seeing things, but in his words there was never a place for your dreams or your insecurities. With Max, everything was different.
Max also began to talk about his long-term ambitions, about what he wanted outside of the race track, things that werenât just achievements, medals or trophies. He told you about his love for family, his desire to form one.
Sometimes, you found yourself watching him as he spoke, unable to help but feel drawn not only to his appearance, but to the vulnerability he had begun to show. This was a different Max, a Max who asked for your opinion and valued what you said, and although he could be competitive and stubborn at times, there was something in his gaze that made you feel important.
And you, of course, couldn't help but share your own thoughts with him. At first, you thought it would be hard for you to open up so much to someone, but with him, everything flowed. You felt free to talk about your goals, about fashion, about your own fears, about your insecurities. Max supported you at all times, without judging or pressuring you, just giving you his unconditional support. The way he looked at you while you talked made you feel like, for the first time, someone really understood you.
That connection was getting stronger, getting more and more impossible to ignore. And you knew, even though you tried to stay rational, that something was changing between the two of you. It wasn't just the chemistry, it wasn't just the shared smiles or the jokes, it was something deeper. Max was becoming someone more than just the Formula 1 driver you admired from afar. And you... you were starting to have feelings for him.
As the days went by and you shared more moments together, from impromptu dinners to walks around the harbor, you realized that Max was showing you a side of him that few knew about, and that side was winning you over in a way you couldn't control. It was such a stark contrast to the relationship you had with Lando, because with him, everything had always been more superficial, more loaded with expectations of what a relationship should be.
With Max, things seemed more real, more natural. And even though you didn't know how he felt exactly, you couldn't help but feel that this moment you shared was something unique.
The air in Monaco felt heavier that day, as if the sun was shining brighter as you walked through the city with Max by your side, enjoying the scenery, but at the same time with a feeling of unease in your chest. Max, noticing your change in mood, looked at you with slight concern.
âEverything okay?â he asked, his voice soft, but with the clarity of someone who knew something wasnât right.
You nodded, trying not to give too much importance to the whirlwind of thoughts forming in your head. You had been dealing with this silently for days, but now, while you were with Max, the doubts and feelings couldnât be left behind. You decided it was time to face it, even though you didnât know how he would react.
Just a few minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket, interrupting the peaceful walk. Looking at the screen, you saw Landoâs name and felt a pang in your stomach. With your pulse racing, you decided to open the message.
Lando: âI miss you. âI want to go back, I want things to be okay between us.â
A lump formed in your throat as you read the words. You knew he had been trying to reach you, that he still held out hope that things could be like they were before, but something inside you told you it was time to let him go. You knew you couldnât keep fooling yourself, or Lando, or Max. Everyoneâs paths had changed, and even though you had loved Lando at one time, everything seemed different now. The connection with Max was something you couldnât ignore, a truth that had been growing between you and you could no longer deny it.
With shaking hands, you began typing out your reply. You didnât want to do it over text, but at the same time, you knew it was the most direct and honest thing to do.
You: âLando, I appreciate you so much, but we both know our lives are taking different paths. I donât feel the same way I used to anymore. Iâm spending time with Max now⌠things have changed, and I canât move on with us. You know what you did and I did it to him.â
The phone stayed in your hands for a second, your heart pounding, and before you could regret it, you hit âsend.â The relief was immediate, but it was also accompanied by a soft pain, like a wound that had been slowly closing, but was still bleeding.
It wasnât even ten minutes before Lando replied to you. The tone of his text was clear: he was hurt, frustrated, and angry.
Lando: âSo youâre with Max now, huh? I canât believe it. I knew something was going on between you two, but this⌠This doesnât just hurt me, itâs going to affect our image too. Youâre breaking everything we built, everything we had.â
You read those words, and even though they hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew you couldnât continue in something that no longer had a foundation, something that had worn away inside. But Landoâs words pierced you like an arrow, and in that moment, you knew it wasnât going to be easy. Breaking up with him didnât just mean letting go of a relationship, but also dealing with the consequences of the decisions you had made.
You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and with a firm voice, you answered, knowing that there could be no turning back.
You: âDon't blame me, you were the one who slept with another woman and let the paparazzi catch you. This is the best for both of us, we no longer love each other like we once did.â
As soon as you sent the message, the tension in the air increased. Max, who had been by your side all this time, watched your face with an expression that seemed to understand what had just happened, although without saying a word.
Lando quickly responded, this time with more anger and resentment.
Lando: âYou're going to see what's going to happen now. You know that this relationship has given us both so much, but it seems that it means nothing to you. You've left me in the lurch, and now I'm forced to deal with the public image of all this, with everything we've built, just because of one bad decision. Don't call me ever again.â
His final message hit you harder than you expected. It was final closure, and even though deep down you knew you had done the right thing, a part of you felt the weight of the words he had just written. You couldnât deny that things between you and Lando had changed, but the fury in his message made it clear to you that, at that moment, he couldnât understand your decision.
Max, seeing that you were tense from the answer, put a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.
âIâm sorry,â he said softly, âbut you had no other choice. You deserve to be happy, and if that means moving on, then thatâs what you have to do.â
You turned to him, grateful for his words. His understanding, his calm, was in complete contrast to the intensity of what you had just been through. Deep down in your heart you prayed that Lando wouldnât do anything but you knew him, you knew how he got when he was angry and you were prepared to read your name and Maxâs on the internet the next morning.
#fanfic#oneshot#imagine#x reader#max verstappen#f1 fanfic#max verstappen x yn#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fanfic#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris#lando x reader#f1#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic
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TILE TRANSITION TUTORIAL
a couple of people have asked me for a tutorial on how I did the penultimate gif in this set, so here goes! this is my first tutorial, so please feel free to reach out with further questions if anything's unclear.
note: this tutorial assumes you know the basics of gifmaking, can create the base gifs, and are familiar with timeline mode.
STEP ONE: create the base gifs! I'd recommend staying between 25-40 frames for each gif, since the transitions we'll use later tend to increase gif sizes. these are the ones I'll be using for this tutorial:
STEP TWO: create the guide layouts for both base gifs. for this panel, I chose a 4x4 grid â I would recommend keeping the number of "tiles" low because it can get tedious, but have a minimum of 9 (3x3 grid).
now your canvas should look like this:
STEP THREE: create the tiles. this is where the going gets rough; there might be easier ways to do this that I couldn't think of đ if there are any please send me an ask!
essentially, in this step we'll cut up the base gifs into smaller squares so that each tile can be manipulated separately when we put both gifs together. to do this, first create a square using the rectangle tool and the guides. then duplicate the base gif, move it above the square, apply a clipping mask, and then convert the clipped gif and square (selected in the image below) into one smart object.
ALTERNATELY: you could duplicate the original base gif and use layer masks to isolate tiles. create a layer mask for the duplicated gif layer and, with the layer mask selected, drag your mouse over a square (using the guide layout) and press delete. then press ctrl/cmd + i to invert the layer mask so that the gif only shows in the square of your choosing.
now repeat until you've got the entire gif in tiles, and do the same for the other gif!
since the transition effect is achieved by staggering the crossfades for each tile of the final gif, you can cheat by having multiple tiles "flip" at a time, ideally no more than four. this means you need to cut the base gif up into fewer pieces. to do this, simply draw multiple squares instead of one and then merge the shapes, before duplicating and clipping the gif onto them.
if you do this, it's essential to remember that you have to divide both gifs up in the exact same way. each piece of the b/w gif has to correspond to a piece of the purple gif!
this is what the layers look like for each gif once I'm done:
I have them lettered so that it'll be easier to match them up in the next step.
STEP FOUR: this is the complicated bit that took me two days to figure out. I'll do my best to explain but don't hesitate to reach out if something isn't clear!
to begin, open up a new psd and import both base gifs into it. (remember to click "create video timeline" and ensure that your gifs are all in order before proceeding.)
now, the trickiest part about this transition is ensuring that all the little tiles sync up so that the larger gif is coherent. so first we'll create some markers (just empty layers) to ensure that everything lines up as it should. â marker 1: at about halfway through the first gif (b/w in this case) â marker 2: at about a quarter of the gif length â marker 3: close to the end of the gifs
at this point we're ready to start bringing in the tiles. I'm going to delete the base gifs from this new psd just to keep things cleaner!
first thing to do is import my b/w tile. move the timeline slider over to marker 1 and split the first gif. (if it helps, rename the split gifs and add (start) and (end) to the two halves.) then, move the (end) half to the beginning of the timeline, and the (start) half to line up with marker 3.
the purple tile is easier to manage. simply import it into the psd and line it up with marker 2.
your timeline should now look like this:
notice the overlap between the gifs at their beginnings and ends â this is where you'll be able to cascade the tiles flipping, so it helps to have a significant amount of overlap.
crop the three gifs for this tile as you see fit! since this is the first tile I want to flip from b/w to purple, I'll crop gif 1a (end) all the way to the current position of the timeline slider (red line with blue tip) and leave the beginning of gif 2a uncropped. for the flip from purple to b/w, I'll crop both gifs a bit.
once that's done, drag all three gifs onto the same level in timeline so they form a video group. your timeline should look something like this:
now you just repeat the process for all the other tiles! as long as you made sure that all the tiles in one gif correspond with tiles in the other gif in step three, this should be a fairly painless process. make sure to crop the starts/ends of the gifs separately so that they don't all flip together.
this is what my layers look once I've done all the tiles:
and the gif!
STEP FIVE: transitions! click on the half-white square (top right of the left column in the timeline, beside the scissors) and select the crossfade transition, then drag it between two gifs in a video group. it should create a two-triangle symbol and shorten the overall length of the video group.
apply the transition to all the tile flips, ensuring that the duration of all transitions is constant. this can sometimes be tricky because ps likes to change the duration of each transition, so right click on the transition symbol and manually change all your transition durations to be the same.
your layers should now look something like this:
STEP SIX: draw the grid. bring back the guide layout from step two and using the line tool (I like 2px thickness), trace the grid. adjust opacity as you see fit (50-80% is usually a good idea), so that the canvas looks like this:
STEP SEVEN: export and celebrate! you're done!
I hope this tutorial made sense and was easy to follow, and happy giffing! my inbox is always open for any questions <3
#tutorial#ps help#ps tutorial#userace#alielook#userabs#usercats#userhella#userfaiths#tuserabbie#usershreyu#usertreena#tuserlucie#uservivaldi#usertj#usergiu#userroza
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V. Dedication | Edelweiss
pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, enemies to lovers [ish], age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early to mid 30s], joel lives forever fight me, canon compliant violence, infected and terrible humans present, death and murder, blood, groping under the guise of a pat down, big angry joel, reader gets thoroughly beat up [happens off-screen], terms of endearment [babygirl, sweet girl], female reader, joel is able to carry reader, reader has hair long enough to brush back, no other physical descriptions, protective!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.0k series masterlist a/n: the penultimate part of this series! iâve had so much fun writing it and i hope you all have enjoyed
âž âž âž âž âž
Holding onto your horseâs reins, your eyes bounced back and forth between the arguing Miller brothers. They were in a spat over something you believed to be ridiculous. A quarrel over you.
âItâs just one day. Itâll be fine,â
âIf sheâs goinâ out on patrol, Iâm her partner. End of story,â
âWe got word of a bloater in Teton County and a pack of stalkers on Elk Creek trail. Do you really want her to go up against a bloater?â
âI can go with her to clear the stalkers,â
âNo, you canât, âcause I ainât gonna fight a bloater with Jesse.â Tommy paused and turned his head toward the young man who stood next to you with his own horse, âno offense.â
Jesse was nice enough. Competent. A good shot and tough. All around a good patrol partner. You nudged his shoulder and tilted your head to the side to lead him away. No use wasting daylight listening to Joel and Tommy bicker like an old married couple.
Up on your horse, sliding your rifle into the scabbard at the side, you started to mentally prepare for the upcoming fight you were about to take part in. Until today, youâd never been on patrol without Joel. There wouldnât be the shorthand of routine; of knowing what his next move would be. About his strengths and weaknesses. For all intents and purposes, you were going in blind with Jesse. Left to nothing but prayer that he was good enough to not get either of you in hot water. Regardless, there was no point in dwelling on it. You were going out into the great wilderness with Jesse. Case closed.
That is until your horse came to an abrupt stop, let out a startled whinny, and backpedaled. Below, just in front of you, Joel was there. Hands pressed to the horseâs neck, halting the animalâs forward advance, âJoel, move.â
âJust hold on a second âtil we figureââ
âThereâs nothing to figure out,â you shot him your most sympathetic smile. Life was dangerous these days. You werenât about to hold his concern against him, even if it was a little misplaced. âIâm going with Jesse and youâre going with Tommy, and Iâll see you when you get back. âSides, I should be more concerned about you,â
He inhaled deeply and came around to the side of the horse. His hand drifted up to your knee and cocked his head back to look up at you sitting tall in the saddle. âBe careful, alright?â
âYou too, Miller,â you leaned over, practically folding yourself in half to be able to reach his lips for a kiss. Perhaps it was a little foolish for how unafraid you felt. Maybe a little fear would do you good.Â
Once upright again, you clicked your teeth and dug your heels into the horseâs sides, urging forward out of the gates of Jackson. Out there for the first time in months without Joel. In fact your partner for the day couldnât be more different than Joel. Youthful, thin, never knew a life without the cordyceps outbreak. It was the only world he knew and he had learned to excel in it. He had to. Survival depended on it. It was partly the reason that fear hadnât entered the equation. Jesse had gone on plenty of patrols and heâd come back from every one of them. Today would be no different. Even if you did find it strange that he preferred to keep a shotgun on him instead of a rifle. Anytime youâd had to use a shotgun meant you were within a handful of yards away from the target.
Plus it would give you a chance to extend your roots. Being out on patrol with Joel five or six times a week left very little time for you to feel like you wanted to do much of anything other than sleep and lounge around. Didnât want to socialize at the Tipsy Bison, or make your nights longer going to the movies. You wanted to get sufficiently fucked and then pass out so you could do the whole thing over again in the morning. Despite not having had much of a chance to be friendly, Jesse proved to be a better conversationalist than Joel had been on the first day out. He asked about how you were adjusting to your first couple seasons in Jackson. Naturally you asked where heâd found the edelweiss (in the woods off of the ski lodge, not far from where you were on your first patrol with Joel).
âHowâs it going with him?â
Your eyes darted over in Jesseâs direction. âItâs good. Heâs⌠reliable on patrol. Good at what he does,â
âNo, I meanâŚâ Jesse trailed off and adjusted himself in the saddle. Nearing Elk Creek, you knew there was a finite amount of time left to talk before youâd be trained in on eliminating the stalkers that had been seen. âEllieâs mentioned stuff to Dina and I. And that kiss,â
You nodded slowly and returned your gaze straight ahead, nearing the edge of the woods. Though they werenât exactly on a talking basis, you figured Ellie was observant enough to have gathered your presence at the house or Joelâs absence because he was at yours most nights. That was another thing you remembered about being a teenage girl. Gossip.
âBeen a long time since I was part of a community this normal. Like before. Joelâs really helped me assimilate. Helped me feel useful here. Iââ
A twig snapped off in the distance. Something with weight to it. Eyes widened, ears straining. You and Jesse looked in every imaginable direction and yet saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just trees and trees and trees. Swallowing, you looked down at the saddle horn, trying to focus on all the sounds of nature around you, for anything that seemed out of place.
âStalkers?â Jesse whispered. His head was still whipping around, trying to locate something. Anything.
You lifted your head again and shook it, âwe wouldaâ heard something else by now.â
âMaybe just an animal?â
Nodding, you really hoped he was right and yet knew he wasnât. You were being watched and supposed the only reason you hadnât been shot at yet was that you were out of range and they didnât want to waste their bullets. Tugging on the reins, you got your horse to take a couple steps backward, âfollow me. Real slow,â
But no sooner than you whipped around in the opposite direction, prepared to regroup with Jesse and come in from a different angle to get the upper hand on what you assumed were raiders of some sort, a shrieking started from your new direction. You glanced over at Jesse, âthose are the stalkers.â
âAny chance the stalkers and the people hiding sort themselves out?â
That got a laugh out of you. God that wouldâve been great if they could. âProbably not,â you glanced back over your shoulder to see if you were being snuck up on. âGo back to Jackson and bring a couple more people. Weâre gonna need âem,â
âI canât leave you here alone,â
âGo,â your tone was matter of fact and left absolutely nothing to be confused. He hesitated, fear in his eyes â but not for himself. For you. You pulled your rifle out of the scabbard and outstretched it in his direction. âGimme your shotgun,â but Jesse wouldnât reach for it. Just shook his head, almost paralyzed, so you all but forced it into his hands, âtake mine back to town.â
It took a little convincing. A few angry glares and frustrated sighs before you swapped guns and he trotted out of the woods. Truth was, if things ended up going sideways, you wanted your gun safe in Jackson and not in the hands of some halfwit bandit. Another problem was the half ton beast you were currently atop. There wasnât a real way to be stealthy while remaining on it. Itâd be a dead giveaway of your position. Putting you high up on a platter for picking off.
That was how you found yourself in a tree. A literal tree with your horse tethered to a different tree twenty or so yards off. Nestled up high in the branches with a knife in one pocket, a handgun in your waistband and the shotgun precariously wedged between two limbs. In a perfect world, you wouldâve positioned yourself some place where you had a vantage point to watch the other humans who were undoubtedly around. As stupid as they might be, they did have a functional brain not overrun by a fungus. It wouldâve been nice to be able to keep an eye on their movement. If only you had known where they were.
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Joel stared straight ahead, choosing not to give Tommy more attention than was necessary. He was still stewing in his saddle over the thought of you out there with Jesse. And Tommy was no fool. He could tell his brother was fuming. Could tell he was one bit of bad news away from blowing his lid. Unfortunately he was going to have to deliver some.
âI donât exactly know what weâre up against,â Tommy admitted, squinting his eyes, looking off into the sun. Anything to not have to look Joel in the eye.
âNo one saw anything else with the bloater? More âan likely a handful of clickers,â
âNo one saw the bloater.â
Joel slowly turned his head in Tommyâs direction. An icy glare and pure disdain on his face. Seeing red didnât begin to describe it. He yanked on his reins until his horse came to a stop.
âI said we got word of a bloater. Weâre checkinâ it out,â
âTommy,â
âAll the other times we got word of one, there was one. Iâm sure itâll be there,â
âYou better hope thereâs one there,â Joel clicked his teeth and got his horse moving again. âYou better hope thereâs a stupid amount of clickers with it.âÂ
Tommy shook his head, âsheâs fine, Joel. Horseâll outrun the stalkers. She could be a hundred yards from âem and pick âem off,â
âSânot the infected that worry me,â Joel glanced in Tommyâs direction again, this time catching his gaze. âElk Creek is like fuckinâ Route 66 for raiders. Theyâre gonna go up against people. Itâs warminâ up, theyâll be on the move. Stickinâ close to the river. Iâve seen her shoot down clickers like it was childâs play. It was never the stalkers I was worried about,â
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You hit the ground, back first, with a heavy thud. The air, knocked out of your lungs and came from your mouth with a pained grunt. That wasnât the only pain though. Something else stung at your side and you figured one of the three fuckers standing above you had clipped you. It was the only reason you could come up with for why youâd so clumsily fallen out of the tree. It hadnât been the first tree youâd ever climbed, and it surely wouldnât be the last. But now outside of trying to fill air back into your lungs, you had to figure out how you were going to get out of this. Alive, if possible. They already had you at an impossible disadvantage.
âWell, looky here,â one of the men smiled down at you. There was a small bit of relief to find you didnât recognize any of them. âShook a tree and a girl fell out,â
They all laughed. Unnerving considering none of them seemed to care that you were supine and they were all hunched over, towering over you.
âWhatâre you doinâ out here, girl?â
You forced a smile, thinking maybe if you just played it cool and unassuming theyâd leave you be. But what was that thing about a girl rather being stuck in a forest with a bear over a man? âJust hanginâ around,â
They laughed again; this time at your shot at a joke. But it was short lived before one pulled a revolver out from behind his back and cocked it, pointed down at your face. Not much of a chance now. The only upper hand you had was that you knew there were two stalkers a few handful of yards away from where you lay and hoped that these three big oafs over you didnât know that. And rather unfortunately, the shotgun was out of reach â not that these guys would let you make any moves without their permission.
âGet up. Slow,â the one with the gun wiggled it around as if that would be the thing that got you moving.
All you could do was play it smart. Turning onto your side, you kept your eyes locked on the barrel of the gun as you hoisted yourself off the ground. Back on your feet, you flicked your hands beneath the hem of your jacket. It looked natural but it was a subtle way to make sure it hadnât gotten hung up on the handgun in your waistband. If these guys had any sense, theyâd pat you down. That was when youâd make your getaway. You figured it could give you a few steps head start to create some space.Â
After more than two decades of this, these guys were well-seasoned to survival, and search you they did. The one with the gun lowered it so his buddy could press on your shoulder and spin you around; away from them. His hands then drifted down your sides, though it felt more like groping than searching for any weapons. Thatâs for the best. His fingers reached down to your ass and lingered longer than necessary to do the job and that was probably as good of a time as any to start trying to get away from them.
You coyly reached into the inner pocket of your jacket and slowly pulled out the pocket knife in it. It wasnât as flashy as a switchblade, and not as easy to open. Youâd have to complete a rather exaggerated flick of the wrist to get it unsheathed. That was going to take away from your getaway time â if there was any. But no time like the present, you flicked your knife-wielding hand out to the side and angled it behind your back. With one swift motion, sunk the blade into the side of the man patting you down. He let out the most wretched scream you could imagine, with the expletive, âfuckinâ bitchâ, but that was all you heard before your pulse pounded in your ears and you took off running. They were no doubt going to be quick on your heels. Truly a toss up whether itâd be all three or just two.
Swerving left and diving beneath a thicket, you were glad (and lucky) that the thorns had caught on your clothing and stopped you short of coming out on the other side, where it appeared the stalkers were on the move in your direction. And more importantly the direction of the men, whose voices now started to ring in your ears again, searching for you. Maybe Jesse was right. Maybe those guys and the stalkers would sort themselves out. And following that train of thought⌠where the fuck was Jesse?
He shouldâve been back by now. Or close to it. He shouldâveâ
All thought was cut off by adrenaline. By the feeling of a thick hand wrapping around your ankle and squeezing tight. By the knowledge that that hand was about to do unspeakable harm to you and it all started with the hand yanking you backward. Out of the brush and into the clearing of three large men and however many stalkers came to join in the fun.
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Joel stomped out of the armory with Tommy right on his heels. If the weather had been slightly colder, surely there wouldâve been steam coming out of his ears. Pissed didnât even begin to cover how he was feeling right now. As much as he wanted to pin all that anger on Tommy, he couldnât help that he felt a great deal of anger at himself; for not having put up more of a steadfast disapproval and fight over you going out there with anyone other than him.
âThey shouldâve been back by now,â he growled in Tommyâs direction, teeth practically gnashing together. Looking skyward, the sun was nearing the horizon. If it got as far as the moon peeking into the sky, he knew youâd never make it through the night.
Tommy clapped his hand down on his brotherâs shoulder, doing his best to be reassuring, âyou know Jesse plays it smart. If they came up on something he didnât think they could handle, they wouldâve come back.â
âHe did come back,â
Joelâs head whipped around toward a voice he never thought heâd hear again. Ellie. Standing at the entrance of the stables with a freshly tacked horse by her side. Theyâd been through so much together. Heâd seen her through terrifying experiences, but at this moment, sheâd never looked so worried.
âBut he didnât come back with her,â
âGoddamnit, Tommy!â Joel screamed, surely loud enough for everyone left in the community to hear.Â
He neared her, and Ellie held her hand out, offering the reins to him, âgrabbed Dina and Astrid and went out again.â
âJoel, quit.â Tommy pushed on his brotherâs chest, trying to get him away from the horse. âEven if she is still alive, you ainât gonna be any use to her once night falls,â
But Joel shoved harder, sending Tommy stumbling a couple steps backward. âIf it were Maria, I wouldnât be stopping you.â He lifted his foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up in the saddle, âEllie get me a gun.â
She was in the armory before Joel even got done speaking. His rage, however, diffused slightly at the sound of the guards up on the wall screaming about incoming riders. Joel dared himself to hope you were safe with them. Allowed himself the optimism to believe you were there. But when the gates opened, all that wishful thinking evaporated. Four horses came in with three humans. Jesse, Astrid, and Dina. He recognized the fourth horse to be the one youâd left on this morning.Â
Joel yanked on the reins to keep his horse steady despite the anxiety caused by the energy of the newcomers, âEllie!â Then he shot the angriest of glares at Jesse, âwhere is she?â
âI didnât want to. She made me leave her and come back for helpâŚâ
âWhere is she?!â His voice thundered, sending some people not even in the conversation cowering.
âI donât know! Wasnât where I left her. Just her horse, a couple dead stalkers, and two raiders,â
A nudge at his shin and Joel glanced down where Ellie pressed a rifle at his leg for his attention. Your rifle. God, how he wanted to turn it on Jesse in this moment. He scooped up the rifle from Ellie and slid it into the scabbard at his side. There wasnât time to let anyone else have another word. He had to get out there. Night was coming far too quickly.
âLet me go with you. Help you find her,â Jesse insisted.
âWhy?â Joel snarled, ââcause you did such a good job last time?â
Horse spurred and running out past the gates, Joel was of one track mind. The whole stretch of creek trails went on for nearly seven miles. If you were along any length of it, hidden back in the brush, it could take him a whole day with good daylight to find you. As it stood, heâd have about a half hour by the time he arrived at the trail before pure darkness overtook the landscape.
âIncoming from the east!â
Joelâs head swiveled and followed the direction from the call from the guard on the wall. One look and he knew it had to be you. About a quarter mile out, you were just a little blip in his vision. But it was you. It had to be you. He wouldnât accept any reality other than that.
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There was a pounding in your head that felt like an ice pick was sticking out of your skull. Breathing had become a little more laborious, not sure if your nose was just abysmally bruised or if it was broken. The taste of blood had become less prominent, but based on the color of the saliva you spit at the ground, it was only that youâd gotten used to it, not that it had stopped. Your side hadnât stopped bleeding either. The realization that youâd been hit came on the long walk back to Jackson when your shirt began to stick uncomfortably to your skin. It was then you noticed a red patch seeped through. A graze of a bullet wound.
Every part of your physical body wanted you to stop. Wanted you to lay down and give up. Give it a rest. But there was a flicker in the back of your mind. No. Keep going. Get back home. Get back to him. If you were going to see the last of life, you were going to have Joel in it. You would move to the other realm with the image of him forever burned into your soulâs memory. So you put one foot in front of the other and repeated that over and over again until the walls of Jackson loomed close.
You didnât recognize it as his horse but you knew it had to be Joel in the distance. No other person wouldâve risked their life to come search for you in the darkness. Only when he was near enough that you could correctly identify it as him, did you allow yourself out of the self-preservation phase, and into the emotional one. The tired one. Your chest started to bounce up and down, taking in ragged breaths while quiet sobs overtook your body. Tears came easily. Too easily. You hadnât been lying when youâd told him most of your nightmares had become about losing home. Shit. Losing him. And today had been a hell of a close call.
He was close now. Not close enough for your aching voice to reach him, but close enough for him to swing himself off his horse before it had even come to a full stop. He ran up to you, never missing a beat or stride.
âJoel,â you wept, dropping to your knees. Your feet could take you no further. Luckily they wouldnât need to.
He skidded up in front of you, landing on his knees, too. âI got you, babygirl. I got you,â he so badly wanted to touch you â to hold you â but you looked like youâd just clawed your way out of the seven levels of hell, and no spot on your body seemed safe to embrace. âLet me get you home,â
âI hurt everywhere,â you sobbed a little harder, bowing your head as crying didnât exactly make your ribs feel any better.Â
His eyes scanned your body, âI know, babygirl. Iâm sorry. What hurts the most?â Finally his gaze rested upon your chest, where your hand pressed against the center of it. âChest?â
âHeart,â you whimpered, trying to stifle your tears.
âThen we gotta get you to the doctor quick,â
You shook your head. âNo,â you sniffled but another round of tears sprung loose. Having to admit this to him⌠âDidnât think I was gonna make it,â you swallowed and choked on your breath, âscared.â
Words failed him. What could he say? Nothing particularly coherent came to mind, perhaps because heâd been just as scared. Instead, Joel leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. He cradled your skull as delicately as he could, and furrowed his eyebrows to press his lips to you a little harder. It was all he could do for fear of causing you even more pain. But when he pulled away, he helped you up to your feet; much to your dismay. You couldnât just stay out there all night.Â
Joelâs arm ghosted around your back, enveloping you closer to him, trying to usher you toward the gates though your feet wouldnât move. âThink you can get up on the horse?â
The shake of your head was immediate and paired with a distressed hum. Climb up on a horse? Absolutely not. So Joel scooped you up with one arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees. A wince assaulted your expression when he lifted you â it all being a bit too much pressure on all of the sore parts. He apologized but there wasnât much he could do to make it better. He had to get you home.Â
âWait, my gun,â you looked over Joelâs shoulder and back at the horse heâd come in on, where your rifle was still holstered.Â
âLook,â Joel jostled your legs to get a better hold on you, âJesseâs cominâ out for the horse. Heâll get it,â
You turned your head and did indeed see Jesse running out in your direction. You wondered if heâd been just as scared as you â arriving back to where heâd left you, only to find it abandoned. He mustâve been pretty startled not being able to find you; thinking heâd lost a patrol partner. Knowing heâd have to go back to Jackson and admit it. It surely couldnât have been an easy thing to do â not with Joel staring him down with something evil. And Joel passed by him so quickly, you only had a passing glance at each other. Horror written all over Jesseâs face. You figured you looked as bad as you felt.Â
Thankfully Joel got you back inside the gated perimeter of the community quickly. Back into this safe haven where the terror youâd faced earlier in the day could start to slip away. Maybe it would never leave completely â none of it ever did â but within the walls of Jackson, it would be easier to forget.Â
As he walked down the main street with you in his arms, you were only half aware of all the people that had gathered around. Staring. Unsure if the feat was the state of your being or the fact that Joel, a man on the back half of his life, was carrying a woman in his arms like it was just as natural as breathing. The vague awareness surrounding you, however, wasnât due to any injury sustained. It was because your eyes were locked on Joelâs, listening to every little word he whispered.
âYouâre safe now, sweet girl. Youâll be alright. Gonna get yaâ fixed up and then never let you outta my fuckinâ sight again,â
A soft smile flashed over your face. It was all you could muster. That idea seemed absurd. That youâd spend the rest of your life under Joelâs watchful eye. And yet⌠it sounded pretty good. After all the time youâd spent feeling unsafe (for longer than you could remember), you could get a shot at turning that around.
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Your pulse evened out sometime around the point Joel turned onto his street, very clearly taking you back to his home, where heâd be able to keep a watchful eye over you. By the time he was climbing the steps of his porch, youâd gained your breath back too. No more active tears fell from your eyes and you thought that if you could just rest for about a week straight, youâd get back to normal in no time.Â
But it seemed Ellie had picked one thing up from Joel â a flair for panic when someone he cared about was in trouble. Though her panic wasnât directly for you, but for Joel. Surely it was evident to her that Joel had developed more than just a fondness for you. Even if she spent most of her time tucked away in the converted garage, there was no way she couldâve been immune to the knowledge that you spent most nights in Joelâs upstairs bedroom.
Joel twisted the knob on the front door with unforeseen ease given that you were also still in his arms. He kicked the door open and turned sideways to shuffle inside. And you were greeted by the scent first, noise second, and sight third, of Ellie in the kitchen. She stood hunched over the stove with a spoon in her hand, haphazardly â anxiously â pushing scrambled eggs around in a pan. Her head flicked around when Joelâs footsteps made way into the threshold of the room. She looked frazzled, scared. You werenât sure if Joel knew it, but you did⌠knew that this was her running back to father. Were those not the eyes you looked at your own dad with when it all became too much?
âIâshit, fuckââ she snapped her hand away from the pan where her knuckles had fallen against the searing hot edge. Ellie looked back up at Joel with an unsure gaze, âI made eggs. Itâs kind of all I know how to make, and Iâm fuckinâ hungry, so I bet youâreâŚâ her eyes danced over what you were sure were bruises forming on your face, âfuckinâ hungryâŚâ
A smile twitched over your lips, nearly regretting it as all that did was send a new sharp pain up the side of your face. âThanks, Ellie. Maybe I can eat upstairs?â You shifted to look up at Joel, hopeful heâd get you there sooner rather than later. Your entire body was beginning to throb, becoming keenly aware of all the places where Joelâs arms dug uncomfortably into your flesh.
âMind fixinâ her a plate, Ellie?â
It was all a fluid moment in time. Ellie shaking her head that of course she wouldnât mind, turning on her heels to make you a plate of food, and Joel climbing the stairs up to his bedroom. His mattress, with all its bumps and lumps, seemed pretty good right now. Seemed like itâd feel like one of those hotels you remembered staying in while on vacation as a kid.
He was gentle in laying you down, foregoing shuffling around the sheets and instead opting to set you on top of them. To allow for rest to begin as soon as possible. Joel sat on the edge of the bed beside you and brushed your hair away from your face. You recognized the fear scattered on his features.
âHow you feeling?â
You forced a smile, eyes shut. âLike I got the shit kicked out of me,âÂ
He pursed his lips together and set his hand on your arm. It looked like the only place to touch that wouldnât be painful. âLet me grab you food,â
Joel went to stand but now you were the one grabbing onto his arm. Your fingers didnât have the strength or energy to grip onto him too tightly, but even the suggestion of your hand there had him pausing. âEat with her first. Sheâs running back because sheâs scared for you.â
âI wanna get you settled. Youâre still bleedingââ
âI want to sleep,â your eyes drifted shut, heavy now from bruises and exhaustion. âThis is her olive branch. So go eat,â
With eyes closed, you felt the mattress beside you dip lower beneath Joelâs weight. And moments after, you felt his lips on yours. Just a whisper of a kiss and without any more fight, Joel got up from the bed and exited the room. You could hear his feet pad down the stairs and his deep voice call out to Ellie in the kitchen. There was only slight recognition of their conversation downstairs before you slipped off to sleep, longing for something restful and yet knowing that youâd soon be plagued with another nightmare of losing home. Of something that almost became far too real today. Despite being taken by sleep, you hoped this truly was the olive branch from Ellie you perceived it to be. Lord knows Joel needed it to be.
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Passed out. Dead to the world in the most figurative of ways, you only roused when you felt fingers lifting your blood-soaked shirt. Your body had stiffened in sleep; muscles tightening up and clenching to dull the pain which only intensified it now in consciousness. When your eyes opened, you saw Joel standing over you, inspecting the wound on your side.
âSorry,â he mumbled in the dark. You werenât sure how long youâd been out. Long enough for the most noticeable thing in your body to be hunger. âLooks like itâs stopped bleeding,â
âJust a scratch,â you smiled weakly. It wasnât lost on either of you that you were now trying to diminish the damage to keep from any further emotional pain on his end.
âYeah,â he falsely agreed. He lowered your shirt and sat on the edge of the bed again, this time reaching for the nightstand where you noticed a small plate of food. âBrought you some eggs and toast. Feel up to eating?â
Then as best you could, you pressed your arms on the bed beneath you and tried to wriggle your way up to rest your back on the headboard. It was slow going; any quick movement sent you grimacing in pain. And Joel, waiting patiently, watched you find a comfortable spot before he stabbed at the scrambled eggs and brought the forkful up to your mouth. You eyed him keenly, wondering if he was getting a rise out of this âtaking care of youâ bit. If there was a part of him that liked knowing you needed him. To be honest, there was a part of you that certainly did.
He pulled the fork out of your mouth gently and looked back down at the plate to get another bite prepped. âYâknow you scared the hell out of me today,â
You nodded and opened your mouth again to take the second bite. Realizing he was content to feed you to your heartâs desire, you sunk lower into a more slumped, relaxed position.
âNot knowinâ where you were or what had happened.â He scooped up another bite of eggs for you, âmânot sure I wouldâve found you if you hadnât nearly walked yourself all the way back.â A relieved grin stretched across his face. âHow the hell did you walk yourself back after all this,â he nodded at your wounds. Sure, heâd walked himself through some pretty terrible things, but how easy it wouldâve been to just lay down and give up.
âHad to get back to you,â you smiled in return. And after swallowing the next bite of eggs, you dodged the fork and picked up the piece of toast. âMake sure you werenât beinâ an asshole to Tommy,â
A hoarse laugh shook his body, ânot sure you got back soon enough for that.â
âFigured,â
Joel let you finish eating in peace; happy to watch you take slow bites. It was almost like he was trying to commit you to memory now. Every line on your face. Every curve of your body. Trying to remember it without all the marks and injuries that now colored you. They might leave scars in their place but heâd do his best to forget those as well â to not let the past change the way he saw you now â as perfect.
When sleep overtook, it was the kind youâd hadnât experienced since early childhood. The kind where you were just out. The kind that wasnât riddled with any fear or worries. Just eyes closed, breathing even and deep⌠safe. A sleep, while all-encompassing, still rendered you aware of the fact that at some point throughout the night, Joel had crawled into bed next to you. He let out a deep exhale as he turned in and scooted himself closer, up against you with the slightest of pressure. Tonight, instead of flinging his arm around you entirely, and pulling you in tighter to his chest, he settled for the gentle placement of his hand on your hip. Ever present, ever ready to spring up at the tiniest shift of movement to be there to provide whatever you may need. For every bit of dedicated you clearly were to him, it was entirely reciprocated.
#joel miller x reader#jackson!joel#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller angst#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fluff#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#ppcu fanfiction#edelweiss fic
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Paper Hearts Part 7
Hello and welcome to the penultimate chapter. There is literally only one more chapter after this.
Steve enjoys the weekend for a change, and Eddie is sneaky.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
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Dustin had called to hang out Saturday afternoon and Steve really couldnât say no to that kid even if he tried. And he had. It never worked. The big eyes with chubby cheeks and gap-toothed smile, Steve would give in every fucking time.
It was annoying.
Of course the kid went on and on about the AV club and D&D and how cool it was going to be to join the D&D club his freshman year.
Steve thought hard on that last one. He wasnât sure if they accepted freshmen. Or even what the club was called. Dustin couldnât remember. Only that he had heard some older kids talking about it once while he was at the library.
Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. âThen how do you know it was even about D&D?â
âBecause, Steve,â Dustin said rolling his eyes right back, âthey were talking about THaC0.â
Steve tilted his head to the side in confusion. âWhatâs thayco?â
ââTo Hit Armor Class Zeroâ, it means what you have to roll to hit a monster or for the monster to hit you,â he explained cheerfully.
âThen why isnât it pronounced thaycz?â
Dustin reared his head back in disgust. âBecause itâs too hard to say?â
Steve looked up with raised eyebrows and then nodded. âYeah, that makes sense.â
And then the conversation moved on from there.
Steve stayed for dinner as Claudia, like her son, never took no for answer.
As he drove home he thought about his afternoon with Dustin. Yeah, it sucked that he didnât have people his own age to hang out with these days, he could always count on that little twerp to make him feel better.
When he got home there was a single pink heart stuck to one of his front doors. Steve pulled it off with a smile. It was from Kas again.
-Stevie Youâre a great friend. I wish more people knew that. Kas
He slipped it in next to the others in his wallet and then opened the door. He slipped off his shoes and jacket, leaving both by the front door. He thudded up the stairs to his room and tossed his wallet and keys on the small dish he kept on his desk.
It was a deformed ceramic little lily pad with its leaves bent slightly to form the dish with a misshapen frog in the middle. There was a chip on one of the leaves and the frog was missing an eye. It was supposed to be an ashtray for his mom for Motherâs Day. But that was the year she âquitâ smoking that year and had thrown it in the trash. That night he had dug it out and hid it way for years until he got his license. His mom never commented on it, so he assumed she didnât remember what it was originally for.
Like most of his childhood, if he was honest.
He sat down in his chair and looked over at his wallet a moment. He sighed and picked it, opening it to take out the pink hearts.
Steve laid them out on his desk and made a little discovery. When he laid them out in order he received them the paper had gone from really pale pink to a lighter pink. He wondered what that was about.
With a sigh, he decided to go for a run again. To clear his head. Only this time he was going to bring water and properly stretch. His coach had been decidedly unimpressed when he explained why he was so sluggish on Monday.
Secretly Steve was with him on that one. It had been stupid, but his mom yelling at him had set him off and he ended up paying for it.
He had been grateful for Eddieâs rescue. Hell, he had been grateful for Eddie just being around the last few days. He was always hanging out at Steveâs locker between classes or waiting for him by his car after school.
It was... nice.
****
Eddie had successfully delivered the Saturday heart out of sheer dumb luck. He had pulled onto the street when he saw Steveâs BMW pull out of the driveway and turn the other direction further up the street.
Eddie had hurriedly taped the heart to the door and booked it before any of Steveâs neighbors could even peek out of their windows.
What was worse was that he knew he couldnât capture lightning in a bottle twice. He couldnât bet on Steve leaving twice. But he didnât know how to get it to Steve without the gig being up.
He chewed on his nail until he bit the bullet.
He pulled out the White Pages and went looking for the right Harringtons. Sure enough about half way down the list was Harrington, Clint and the right address.
He picked up the phone and called.
âThe Harrington residence, this is Steve,â the warm voice greeted. âHow can I help you?â
Eddie let out a little snort. âYour parents make you answer the phone like that, Stevie?â
âEddie?â Steve asked.
âOne and the same, darlinâ,â he replied. âI got the number from the White Pages if thatâs all right?â
âThatâs fine!â Steve hurried to reassure. âIâm glad you called!â
Eddie preened in the comfort of his kitchen where only Wayne would laugh at him and considering the man was sleeping because he worked the night shift, couldnât.
âHey, did you want to hang out today?â
There was silence on the line for a beat or two. Long enough that Eddie feared the line had gone dead.
âIâIâd like that,â Steve finally stammered out. âDo you want to hang out at my place or yours?â
Eddie hummed like he was thinking about it, but secretly he was doing a happy dance. âIs yours okay? My uncle Wayne is sleeping right now because he has to work.â
âAre you going to feel comfortable coming over in your van?â Steve asked, a little hesitant and shy.
Eddie frowned for a moment before he realized what Steve meant. âIâm borrowing Wayneâs truck, itâs newer and in better condition. As long as I get back before he goes into work, Iâll be fine.â
âYeah,â Steve said. âCome on over whenever you want. Iâll be here all day.â
Eddie fist pumped. Seriously the D&D gods must really be in favor of him hanging out with Steve if everything kept lining up so fucking perfectly.
âIâll be there in an hour.â
They said their goodbyes and Eddie hung up. He went into the front of the trailer and gently shook Wayne awake.
Wayne rubbed his eye a moment. âYou heading out?â
He nodded. âIâm taking your truck, but Iâll be back before you have to go.â
Wayne waved him off. âGo have fun. Iâll just borrow your van. It wonât kill me if I take it this once.â
Eddie kissed his forehead and told him he was the best. Wayne buried under covers grumbling about having his image ruined, to Eddieâs cackling glee.
****
Wayneâs truck was a bronze 1973 Ford F150 with a white camper shell. It was hideous as fuck, but respectable and serviceable and the damn thing ran like a dream. Best part was that it wouldnât stick out in neighborhood like Steveâs.
Eddie pulled up to the curb and parked, hopping out of the truck. He locked it up tight and came up to the door.
He stuck the little heart on the door and then knocked. While he waited he pulled the paper off the door.
Steve threw open the door and smiled. Then he looked down at the heart in Eddieâs hand, eyes wide.
âI found it on your door just now,â Eddie replied with a grin. âGood thing I came over, huh? Otherwise it might have been hanging there for awhile and you would have never have known.â
Steve blinked and then his smile grew. âYeah, triple bonus because itâs supposed to rain tonight.â
Eddie beamed at him and followed him inside.
âMy parents are gone until the weekend so make yourself at home,â Steve said, indicating the room to his right.
Eddie frowned and tilted his head to the side. âIsnât already the weekend?â
He flopped on the large beige sofa and looked up at Steve expectantly. Steve padded over to sit down next to him.
âMy dad is taking my mom to Paris for Valentineâs day so they wonât be home until late Friday early Saturday if they come home at all.â
âThat sucks, man.â
Steve shrugged. He plucked the heart from Eddieâs grasp.
âOh, itâs another Kas one,â he said with a soft smile. âThese arenât as awkward as the others Iâve gotten.â
Eddie huffed a laugh. âYou get some pretty awkward hearts there, Stevie?â
âThese are high school students and very few of them have any kind of social skill,â he said with a snort. âTheyâre almost all awkward as fuck, dude.â
âYou get any red hearts?â Eddie asked, far more curious than sane.
Steve shook his head. âThey arenât handing those out until Thursday. And to be honest, Iâm not expecting any.â
Eddie tilted his head to the side. âYou donât think that the female masses at our great school arenât going to give Steve Harrington a single red heart? There must be some that see past the bullshit social mores.â
He just shrugged. He set the heart down on the coffee table and then picked up Eddieâs hand. It took every ounce of will power that Eddie had not to read into that.
âI always wondered about this ring,â he said softly. âItâs so unlike the other rings you have. It isnât big or flashy, itâs not over the top. The others are a pig, a skull, and a coffin but this is just a simple gemstone. So beautiful.â
Christ! If Eddie had been a cartoon steam would have been coming out of his ears.
âIt was my mamaâs,â he said just as soft. âMy Uncle Wayne hid from my dad so he couldnât sell it for drugs. He gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. It was supposed to be a graduation present.â
âItâs exquisite, Eds,â Steve breathed. âMy mom has a lot of jewelry, but nothing like this. Itâs all over the top and gaudy. Iâm glad your uncle was able to keep it safe for you.â
If Eddie could have turned any redder, heâd be a tomato. âThanks.â
They were silent for a moment and then Steve cleared his throat and sat against the arm of the sofa. Still nearby by but no longer pressed to Eddieâs side. His poor frazzled brain wasnât sure if that was a good thing or not.
âWe could watch movies,â Steve suggested. âOr Iâve got some board games around here somewhere.â
Eddie straightened up. âIâll tell you what. I pick the movie and you pick the game and we can do both at the same time.â
Steve brightened. âI like that idea. Pick one youâve seen so we donât have to pay attention to it if we donât want to and Iâll grab the game.â
Eddie agreed and wandered over to the cabinet that held the Harrington family VHS tapes. They had a lot of sports movies and family friendly stuff. A bit of Disney but nothing since Steve turned twelve. A couple of westerns, too.
He picked a western that he could tolerate and slipped into in the player. He turned on the TV and let it play through the trailers at the beginning.
Steve came out with Life. âWhatcha pick?â
Eddie told him as they both set up the game. Steve nodded approvingly. Westerns werenât his thing either, but âThe Good, the Bad, and the Uglyâ had a good plot.
Eddie won. Steve kept landing on all the children places and had to grab a second car just to hold all of them.
Steve laughed. âNow thereâs the dream, a good paying job, six kids, and Winnebago.â
âNo mention of a wife there, Stevie,â Eddie said, nudging his shoulder with his own.
âIâm waiting to see if my partner is male or female,â Steve said with a shrug.
Eddie put the now boxed up game on the coffee table and sat back up on the sofa. âI know Iâm shit at school, but Iâm pretty sure two dudes canât make babies.â
âIâd adopt all the ones like me,â Steve said. âThe ones with shit parents who only care about how a child makes them look good and not about raising someone with love.â
âSounds good, Stevie.â
Soon it as time for Eddie to leave and Steve went back to put the game away. When he picked up the box, the little pink heart fluttered to the ground.
-Stevie Watching you make the best of out shit situation, inspires me to be a better person. Kas
Steve smiled down at the paper with a wistful sigh. He looked up out the window to where Eddie was pulling out of his driveway.
And not for the first time he wished it was Eddie giving him the Kas hearts.
****
Part 8
1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @spectrum-spectre
2- @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 â@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson
3- @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv
4- @wonderland-girl143-blog @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690
5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon
6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @fullpoetrybread
7- @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @moonshadows-13
8- @skyewaytohell @swimmingbirdrunningrock @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @lololol-1234
9- @dotdot-wierdlife @ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself
10- @dam28lh
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love and power
⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠  ⧠  ⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠â§
chapter nine
âiâd leave if youâd let me.â
Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie
tags/warnings: descriptions of pain, alcohol consumption, more smut (cuz i couldnât help myself apparently lol): dry humping; quickie; cream pie, undressing a bandage, bite wounds, the morning after talk, return of the chainâŚ
word count: 3.9k
authorâs note: yâall i really canât believe it⌠the penultimate chapter is here 𼲠i really canât express how much it means to have you join me on this little journey here. whether youâve been reading from the beginning or just found it, i just want to convey my sincerest thanks đ no alastor pov this time (a first! i shocked even myself) but donât fret â we will get a peek into his mind before this is all over. sorry if this oneâs a little dialogue heavy but they had a lot to say đ⨠also please go listen to 1121 by halsey đđťâ¤ď¸âđĽ
prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two
⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠  ⧠  ⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠â§
You stirred, eyebrows furrowing as a sleepy whine rose in your throat; a pulsing ache effectively kicking you out of unconsciousness. There was movement next to you on the bed followed by the sound of a book closing and the clinking of glass, rounded out with the soothing melody of liquid pouring.Â
As your eyes finally cracked open, still blurry with sleep, you took a deep waking breath through your nose. Spending so much time here, you recognized Alastorâs room by scent alone. Something that didnât fully resonate with you until another realization came to mind â the bed you were in right now was his. Tucked into the very sheets you so diligently made nice every morning.
âI was wondering when youâd be waking up⌠I have medicine for you.âÂ
Alastorâs voice was mellow as his fingers swept the hair back from your face, and you blinked a few times to clear your vision. He was bending over you, backlit against the warm light coming from the lamp on the nightstand, looking disarming as ever in his pajamas. But the softly amused look on his face made you doubt that you were really awake.
Another unpleasant throb in your shoulder was a reminder that you most definitely were. Which also brought attention to the fact that you had been dressed as well. Underneath the clothing you took note of the confined, consoling feeling around your shoulder and chest, not dissimilar from a seatbelt. A bandage?Â
When had all this happened? And what time was it? Clearly late enough to constitute the need for lamplightâŚ
You werenât able to dwell on anything more before a sharp jolt of pain shot straight up your neck, causing you to wince with a hiss. Alastor tutted and nudged the glass at you with one hand and helped you sit up with the other. When you reached out you recognized the pattern on the sleeve adorning your arm, a lump forming in your throat. Alastorâs housecoat. Though you were just as quickly distracted from that fact when you realized what he had shoved in your hand.
âThis is medicine?â you sulked, frowning over the glass of whiskey stinging your nostrils. âYou donât just haveââ
âDonât get me started on those wretched pills, if thatâs what youâre referring you,â he scoffed, face pinched with offense. His voice softened a bit but was still assertive when he continued. âThis is natural. It will help. Promise.â
You looked at him with a dubiousness that didnât reach your eyes, slowly lifting the glass to your lips. He saw right through it of course, judging by the smoldering look of satisfaction he was giving you. There was another ache⌠this time not in your shoulder. You werenât exactly thrilled with how easily you melted under his gaze. Not with all backtracking the two of you still had to do regarding the afternoon. Maybe itâs just a post-sex aftershockâŚ
So you sipped the drink, actually appreciating the distracting burn in your throat that trickled into your chest. You didnât even have to say it, glowering at him and his haughty I told you so smile over the glass as you finished it off. He took the empty glass from you, refilled it with double the amount, and handed it back.
âNo more after this, right?â you said after downing more than half of it with a grimace. Whiskey was never a favorite of yours and the taste was starting to overpower the burn.
âPromise,â he goaded, face turned up with his familiar taunt.
Thankfully the blush on your face could be dismissed by the alcohol, but you werenât able to stop the scoffing laugh that escaped you; covering your mouth with your free hand when you remembered yourself. God forbid he thought you were making fun of him â which you obviously werenât â but it would be just your luck to spoil the mood. He surprised you, taking your hand from your mouth as he leaned in, a mischievous leer glimmering in his eyes.Â
âGoodness! You know, I was really beginning to think you didnât know how to laugh,â he said, voice low, his hand coming up to rest under your chin. A mutual favorite place for him to touch. âIs this a new development, or have I always been so amusing?â
âSometimes,â you answered mildly, grateful you managed to keep the tremble out of your voice but failed to maintain eye contact as your heart picked up. The way his thumb was lazily petting your jaw wasnât helping. âIâm just normally better at holding back.â
Alastorâs face was in front of you now, noses almost touching as his eyes focused on you. He took the drink out of your hand and finished what was left before setting it down to resume his close proximity. âHmm⌠I think thatâs the habit of yours I dislike the most.â
The kiss that followed was esurient, his long fingers now splayed across the expanse of your neck to hold you in place as his tongue wasted no time finding comfort in your mouth. The whine you couldnât hold back earned you a lusty hum in return, followed by a testing bite to your bottom lip as your fingers tangled in his hair. It was only too easy to slip back into this; openly moaning into him as he took you by the waist and easily maneuvered you to straddle his lap. His wicked mouth never leaving yours for a moment.
Time slipped away, its intangibility and irrelevance in the afterlife never more apparent as your mind and body honed in on the present. God, he was just so warm; the comfort it gave you was concerning, leaving you worried over how you would fare without it. It wasnât the only thing you were troubled over â equally relishing the gift of every sound and touch he gave. His lithe, statuesque frame still providing so much security even while underneath you being the most generous of all.
âI think I like this too much,â you whispered against his lips, out of breath. Unsure if the confession was one of shame, regret, or pride. Â
âI know,â he murmured, giving your lips a final kiss before leaving a trail of them to your neck. Wantonly indulging himself there as if it could kiss back.
It was hard to discern the ambiguity you heard in his voice. Not quite pity, not quite indifference. And despite the fire that threatened to envelop you whole, the thought that crept up in the back of your mind was one you couldnât ignore.
Was he regretting this already?
The thought was abruptly whisked away as Alastorâs hips rolled against you, the feeling of his arousal pulling a heady sigh from your chest. He let out a soft grunt in return, the sensation of his open mouth and hot breath against your skin making you feel faint. The graze of his teeth as his hands guided you to slowly grind on him made you cry out in earnest; a sound you repeated from his responding moan. You stayed this way for a while, rocking and moaning against each other as he covered the right side of your neck with more hickies and bites and kisses until the pressure building in your loins was too much to bear.
âAlastor, please,â you pleaded softly, your need hanging heavy in the air of the otherwise silent room.
He gasped into your skin and lifted you off him, reaching underneath the night coat to pull your underwear down, then doing the same with his own pants. Propped up against some pillows, he was at an angle somewhere between lying down and sitting up, and he brought his knees up behind you for support. You gasped as he ran his length against your slick arousal, walls already twitching just from the memory of how he had felt inside you earlier. The two of you shared a loud, wanton moan of relief as you took him to the hilt, panting as you both adjusted.
Definitely like this too muchâŚÂ
Exhilarated by the very real aspect of not lasting long, you reflexively clenched around him; drawing a hiss from between his teeth that in turn left his mouth hanging open in such a salacious way you couldnât stop yourself from whining his name.
âHahhhâŚ! A warning next time, sweetheart,â he gasped, his hands on your waist tightening with a pleasantly firm grip.Â
Perhaps as retribution, the sharp thrust he gave you made you scream from pleasure and shock. Afterward, he set a deep and steady pace, the angle quickly proving to be a new favorite with the way your clit rubbed against him; his swollen head mercilessly stimulating your spongy core as he bounced you on and off his cock. The slapping of your skin meeting between your combined gasps of rapture only fueling your lust.
âHmmnnn AlastorâŚ!â you mewled, feeling a wave of your arousal coat him as you cried out. Barely able to keep your eyes open from the way your eyebrows were drawn together. âAlastor!â
âHaahh, fuck â AhhhâŚ!â he moaned, throwing his head back as he began bucking into you in earnest. Your hands gripping his shoulders to try and keep steady as you eagerly accepted his new rhythm.
The tightness in your belly made itself known then with a scorching ache. Coiling tighter and tighter as you took in his licentious expression and heaving chest until you couldnât take it anymore. Too intoxicated by the erotic scene and feeling of him to hold on.
âAlastor â mmm! Youâre gonna â hahh â gonna make me cum,â you practically sobbed, unable to stop the words as a blush burned your cheeks.
He let out a loud, drawn out grunt as his head shot up, eyes looking straight into yours; his florid face, clenched teeth, and intense crimson gaze the last thing you saw before your vision went white. Unabashedly moaning as your orgasm crashed through you with an exquisite relief you didnât know was possible. Alastor cursed as you spasmed and tightened around him, his fingers punishing on your waist as he quickly followed suit and came inside you; that hot, familiar feeling of his release nearly making you climax again as the two of you sloppily rocked against each other until the high was finally sated.
You collapsed against his chest, his rapid heartbeat a lovely companion to the sounds of you both trying to catch your breath. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he pulled out, the emptiness that followed causing you to whimper which he responded to with a tired, satisfied chuckle that rumbled in your ears. The warmth you felt in your chest from the sound provided both comfort and alarm as an accompanying question bloomed in your mind.
How will we ever go back to normal�
⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠â§
When you awoke again you were in your own bed, noticeably alone. The morning light piercing your curtains bright enough to indicate that you might be pushing early afternoon. You stretched and rolled onto your back, taking in the sight of your shredded canopy. So that had been the sound you heardâŚ
After lying there for a few minutes, you groaned as you forced yourself out of bed, driven mostly by your need to take a shower. Something that presented somewhat of a problem when you remembered the bandage Alastor had dressed you with. Would it be too soon to remove? And what was hiding underneath? A pang of anxiety shot through you, wishing he was here to provide the answers.
But heâs not.
You werenât sure what you were expecting to find in the mirror, but you had definitely underestimated the state of your neck. There didnât seem to be an inch of it that wasnât touched by a violet bruise or scarlet bite, save for your throat, which presented a contrast so stark it almost made you dizzy. How the hell will I cover this up?
The only thing you owned with a collar high enough was the dress that Alastor had ruined in a fit of passion with no replacement in sight. You took a deep breath and shed the housecoat, taking in the bandage that wrapped around your left shoulder and chest, unsure of where to start in terms of unwrapping it â he had done a very good job. A fact that weighed on your heart like a stone.
You managed to find the loose end as the shower warmed up, easily unwinding the gauze from your chest until you gingerly began the task of peeling it off your shoulder. Worried that parts of it might have stuck to each mark of his fangs; a painful fate you werenât able to completely avoid, but on the whole, you considered yourself lucky that the gauze had only latched to a few of the punctures. An incredulous huff of a laugh escaped you when you realized that the huge bite would actually be easier to hide than the hickies.
As was typically the case, you felt a lot better once you were out of the shower. It was a serenity that was quickly pulled out from under you when you opened your bathroom door and saw Alastor sitting on the edge of your bed.
âFuck! You scared me,â you gasped, hand over your heart. It was mostly true, though you found yourself more relieved at the sight of him than anything.
âHa, ha! Yes, Iâve been known to do that,â he said, his eyes narrowing with a smug mirth as he patted the empty space next to him. âCome sit. I thought you might need some help.â
You sighed, doing your best to keep your heartbeat steady as you crossed the room and sat down on the bed with your back to him at his direction with a silent spin of his finger. He had brought a little kit of supplies consisting of a couple tins, tape, and gauze. The items laid out near him on the bed with a meticulousness you couldnât help but find endearing. Was there anything he set out to do without poise and purpose?
He quickly got to work, humming aimlessly to himself as he applied one of the tinctures to each puncture of his bite. Whatever it was, the subtle sting it provided was a nice distraction from the overwhelming herbal smell it gave off. It wasnât exactly unpleasant, but you would be glad to have it covered up all the same. Alastor had to lean over you to attend to the wounds on your collarbone, and you let yourself get lost in the look of concentration on his face.
âYouâre in a good mood today,â you said quietly as his hand fanned over the medicine to dry.
He huffed a small laugh, lips curling into a pleasant smile. âWell I certainly never set out to be in a bad mood, my dear.â He let out a melodramatic sigh before adding, âItâs just thrust upon me.â
âAww, what a victim you are,â you pouted sarcastically, laughing when he flicked your arm.Â
âYouâre in quite the good mood yourself, all things considered,â he mused, applying the balm from his second tin.Â
The careful but firm application from his fingers made you hum with content and the two of you locked eyes then, but the look in his was torn; fighting between fondness and pity. He didnât have to say it, you already knew.
âWe need to talk about yesterday,â you said, resigned, pleased to hear that you sounded stronger than you felt.Â
He nodded with a sigh, the soft smile on his lips threatening to make your eyes well with sudden tears. âThat we do, my dear. But let me finish with your bandage first, hm?â
You did your best not to overthink the conversation ahead of you while he finished applying the balm before wrapping you up, knowing it wouldnât do you any good. There were only so many things to say, after all. So many ways it could goâŚ
What exactly did you want from all of this? It was hard enough to rectify the blossoming feelings you had for Alastor despite the short amount of time you had known him. But you had discovered so much about him in spite of that, the sex just made it more complicated. It wasnât that you regretted it â how could you? You wouldnât deny that it had been the best sex of your existence. Even with the bite. Still, you were typically much more cautious when it came to giving your heart away to someone. What was it about Alastor that made you throw your rules to the wayside?Â
When you racked your brain for an answer, all it did was conjure his image. Silly, considering he was right behind you. Methodically dressing your wound with the same amount of care he had displayed after giving it to you. How many times had those hands provided you with his brand of reassurance? That mix of tenderness and strength that he gave to you at his whim, effectively catching you in his push-and-pull game. Whether your feelings for him in the aftermath had been his intent or not, well. They were there.
The playing ground was tipped in his favor, but you understood that. Even in the middle of your tryst, you knew that it could very well be the only time. Maybe he just needed to let off some steam. Yesterday you had felt resolved enough to be of use to him in whichever way he needed, more than willing to let him have his prize (so to speak). It would be naive to think that the dynamic between you wouldnât change. Either for better or worse, that was inevitable but⌠that didnât explain why you felt so dejected.
What do I want?
Could you be satisfied with being used as a plaything, if thatâs what he wanted? The thought of him never touching you again made that an easier pill to swallow, bitter as it was. But you werenât a fool. Itâs not as if you were expecting a marriage proposal.
Suddenly Alastor's hand was cupping your face so that you were looking up at him, a relaxed but almost somber expression waiting for you.Â
âYouâre worried. I can smell it, you know.â
You sighed, resenting the blush you felt creeping across your face. âOf course you can. I donât think thereâs anything thatâs only mine anymore beyond my own thoughts.â
The words came out sharper than you had meant them to, but you didnât apologize. Surprisingly, he didnât seem to mind, staying silent as if waiting for you to continue. So you did.
âDo you regret it? And be honest with me⌠please.â
It was his turn to sigh now, taking a moment before responding calmly. âNot all of it.â
I knew it.
Really, you did. But the knowledge wasnât helping as much as you hoped it would. In fact, it was only serving to make you feel worse.
âWhich parts?â
He said your name with a warning. One you should have heeded, given how long it had been since he had spoken your real name. But you didnât look away from him. You refused to beg with your mouth, so you pleaded with your eyes. Just tell me.
Alastor exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound.Â
âThe circumstance doesn't sit right with me. Iâm sure you didnât notice, but Valentino left his pheromones on you â and they were especially potent⌠I have a hard time believing his intention was for you to make it out with just a bite.â He looked down at your shoulder then, an unreadable expression on his face. âI donât enjoy being played for a fool.â
A flash of anger shot through you, but you did your best to quell it. Letting it get the better of you right now would only be to your detriment. Did he not realize what a cruel, selfish thing that was to say? He wasnât the only one who had been toyed with.
âOkay, so what about last night? The second time. Were the pheromones still working then, too?â you pressed. The embarrassment you felt fueling the frustration in your voice.Â
Alastor stood up then, the strain of impatience beginning to show on his face as he towered over you. âI suggest you watch your tone, child. And remember that I donât owe you an explanation for anything. You are beholden to me. Not the other way around.â
The simmering anger you had managed to keep down boiled over at that, and you jumped to your feet to glare up at him. Since any kind of autonomy was out of the question, then an explanation was the least he could give you. And even then, it was something you could no longer be satisfied with if it was coming from some twisted form of benevolence on his part.Â
Valentino had his part to play, but itâs not like he had forced Alastor to kiss you when you offered him your help. You couldnât reconcile the words he was saying now, so contradictory to his actions. Every kind word and touch⌠Did they all come from some weird obligation he felt to play the part until the pheromones wore off? The bandage he had just applied with such attentiveness felt like a mockery. How did you let yourself get so carried away by it all? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
âEverything is your way, your pace! All youâve done since I met you is push me around and play with my feelings â and have I ever done anything than take it? I clean your room the way you want it, I keep up with all the busywork you give me. And now youâve taken one of the last pieces of me that was still just mine, but that was a game, too!â
âYou forget your place!â he roared, his face darkening with fury as the chain appeared around your neck. He pulled the leash taught so that you were standing on your toes as he forced you to look up at him, your hands instinctively holding onto it to balance your weight. âIf your existence here is so miserable, perhaps youâd like to join the souls I keep in my radio? I can assure you itâs less than pleasant,â he hissed with vitriol, tugging on the chain so that your faces were nearly touching. Your toes no longer on the floor.
Despite your better judgement, you leaned in. Too ashamed and angry to stay calm; tears flowing freely down your face from the intensity of the loathing you currently felt towards him and yourself.
âYouâd be doing me a fucking favor,â you said, choking the words out through your sob-heavy throat. Every bit of it the truth. âAnd Iâm sure youâll have a great time telling everyone where you sent me.â
âVicious brat!â he shrilled, face distorted with malicious static that hovered around him like a storm. Then the chain and static disappeared as you collapsed to the floor. But the venom in his red eyes hurt you more than that chain ever could. Or at least thatâs how you felt until he spoke next, the chill in his voice piercing you with every word. âKeep your distance from me if you know whatâs good for you. If I catch you roaming the hall of my suite, it will be the last thing you ever do.â
Then he was gone, spiriting himself away in shadow. Leaving you to sob on the floor of your room.
Alone.
⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠  ⧠  ⧠⧠⧠⧠⧠â§
tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmic-lavender, @stardustandbrimstone, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @phamtasic, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fan fiction#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor x female reader#alastor smut#hazbin hotel smut#song fic#if i can't have love i want power#love and power#x reader#slow burn#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#hazbin hotel slow burn
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My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 9
Holy shit I don't think I have ever felt more relieved watching the penultimate episode of a Thai BL than I did this week. I was expecting doom, I was expecting gloom, and while both were absolutely present, we did not linger there.
This is just my opinion but to me that alone is proof of how much Mame has grown as a writer because for a second there I was fearing another Don't Say No situation.
BUT THIS AIN'T ABOUT THAT LET'S YAP ABOUT MICROEXPRESSIONS
I need to start with my baby because after the horrors last week, seeing her smile means everything to me. Gotta hold onto it as long as I can because we all know what's coming.
And speaking of smiles, this situation is TERRIBLE there are delinquents coming at my man with 2x4's but this feral smile from Mahasamut?
This one is purely for Meena's benefit, to comfort and reassure her but it is genuine, Fort's eyes are very sparkly. He switches gears very quickly when the getaway bike arrives for the thugs though so however chill he seems, he absolutely isn't. He just wants to keep the baby (and Vivi and her friend) calm.
It's very disconcerting to see Vivi this serious.
We're 2/2 on smiles for other people's benefit. My poor girly.
*stares at Viviana* You did this.
This look of pure murderous intent may be one of my favorite expressions Mut has had over this whole show, especially because it's paired with that clenched fist. And I'm going to give extra praise to Fort for it because he doesn't clench his fist until after Tongrak apologizes for what happened and he doesn't open his eyes until his hand is practically trembling from holding it so tightly.
This response doesn't come when Rak tries to blame himself for the beating; it happens when he apologizes for it. Mut isn't angry in the abstract and he isn't angry at Rak, he's angry for him.
I don't like this face, Khun Tongrak. I actually had a moment where I thought to myself, "why can't I read your face right now?" and of course it's deliberate on Peat's part. Even without knowing what we know from the preview, this face would have told us that Something was about to happen.
Or maybe that's just me, I don't know. I've been staring very hard at Peat's face for the past two months.
Watching Tongrak desperately try to steel his nerve after entering the snake pit that is his sperm donor's house is heartbreaking.
As much as I hate to subject you (and myself) to more of Jak's face, I'd like to point out that like last week, his face is in shadow while the face of the person he's speaking to, in this case Tongrak, is catching the light. Also worth noting that Rak's back is quite literally against the wall in this scene.
We see this play with light/shadow again when Rak has a flashback of him from his childhood. Jak has always been a vile, psychopathic snake and his true feelings and intentions have always been hidden behind shadow.
It's horrible to say because there's so much anguish behind it but this is such a beautiful expression. There's a split second where he tries to look angry but it just doesn't work.
I think there's a tiny part of Tongrak that truly believed that tearing up the contract would be what made Mahasamut leave and on the flip side of that, a part that was afraid that the contract was truly the only thing making Mut stay.
GODDAMN THIS IS THE SEXIEST THING MAHASAMUT HAS EVER SAID ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME
For people like Tongrak and for people who can relate to Tongrak in the sense that one or more of the parents we pulled in the great gacha of life are horrible and shitty, there comes a moment where you realize that they aren't actually these huge indestructible monsters. They're human.
And when you realize that and look at them, it's like you're seeing for the first time. There's a weird sort of pity and whatever the opposite of awe is that you feel that's hard to describe. It's a feeling of "...Is that really it? Is that all there is to you?"
That is what Peat is portraying so incredibly in this scene.
BLINDING LIGHT OF LOVE LET'S GOOOOOOO
WILD HORSES, YA'LL! WILD FUCKING HORSES!
Pouty Tongrak face, as a treat.
Mook and Mahasamut were talking about Tongrak and what Mut would do if he got rejected when all was said and done, but Mook's face when Mut says he would accept the rejection tells me she's also thinking about herself and Vivi.
I actually really wish she would've talked to Mut about it directly because god knows girly pop needs to talk to someone about Vivi. Or better yet, Vivi herself.
As for the preview next week, do not even sweat it babes because you know what?
THERE ARE COLORFUL PATTERNS ON TONGRAK'S BODY!
I LOVE GETTING EVERYTHING I WANT!
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Empty Bed Part Two
Lando Norris x reader smut
3.5k words. Part One
"What's up with you?" Max asked, worried about his friend's pouting. Lando was angry and upset. He knows this is how hook up culture is supposed to be, have sex and leave before anything gets awkward, yet that's not what he wanted. Its sad that he wanted her, even now, weeks after their last encounter. "Nothing serous, just jet lagged." His reply was a bit harsh and also the truth at the same time. It was the penultimate race of the season and the stress was beginning to affect more than usual, he was far too frustrated, not just psychologically but sexually. "If you say so." He felt Max's hand make contact with his shoulder as he walked past, heading to the red bull garage. Lando walked towards his drivers room and put up a rather convincing smile. Free practice wasn't particularly fun for Lando, he liked the thrill of the race, but he couldn't feel that if he was focused on collecting data. He let out a loud sigh as he lent against the closed door, finally alone. It felt good to be in his own presence.Â
He pulled the orange shirt over his head to replace it with a black fire proof. "Woah, what animal attacked you?" Daniel laughed out, seeing his friend's shocked face. "You were so happy the morning after, maybe you need to get laid more often." The scratches on Lando's waist were still visible, a reminder for him, a reminder of her. "You're one to talk, that girl in your lap seemed pretty blissed out." He shook his, Lando was shocked that Daniel took the risk of fucking some girl in such a public place. "Well I know how to fuck. By the red on your hip, I can guess you can too." Daniel flashed his signature grin while loosening his suit. "Can I be honest?" Lando paused, looking back at his friend, who's expression changed in the blink of an eye. "Always." Lando let out a relived sigh, he already felt better. "How do you do it? I don't get how you can fuck a girl and move on so quickly, as if nothing happened." Lando looked away mid-sentence, feeling almost ashamed, reaching for the rest of his clothes. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can't just forget, unless I'm that drunk. But still, it's not something you should hold onto, especially if you're not going to see her again." Daniel said sincerely, he was stunned that Lando would say such a thing. "Is it really bothering you that much?"Â
Lando had to pause, he didn't know what to do. They didn't have the same level of friendship that Daniel had with Max, or Lando with Carlos. Yet he almost felt bashful at the thought of discussing this with anyone else. "I just... Felt so drawn to her. It doesn't make any sense to me. I was just looking to fuck, but everything about her... It just felt more than that. She joked with me, and it was actually funny, she was so gorgeous too; Perfect even. She didn't even know who I was, yet she was in a F1 afterparty. You know how you can tell if they actually know you or not." He said it all in one breath, and so, was practically gasping for air. "I'm guessing she is good in bed too?" Lando's head shifted to the side in a look of disappointment. "Yes, but that's not the important part." He said, zipping up his race suit. "I get how important this is to you, I do, but you can't dwell on it, you need to focus on racing, thinking about a girl, no matter how perfect, that you're not going to see again, isn't gonna get you on the podium." Daniel grabbed Lando's shoulders, rather firm, and looked in his eyes as he spoke. "Alright."Â
While Lando was in the car he didn't dare think of her, but when he was in his new hotel room, she consumed all of his thoughts. So while he was buttoning up a white shirt, he couldn't help but feel down, he was exhausted, not just from the race. Lando practically dragged his feet along the floor to wards the door, wishing he didn't have to go out and celebrate another podium, he had to celebrate someone else's win. As he begun tying his shoes, he could hear the banging of a fist on the hotel door. "Give me a sec." He shouted back, rushing towards the door. "Hey." It was Daniel at the door, adorning his usual smile. "It's only 10, there is no rush." Lando said, looking down at his watch, before reaching for his phone and room card, and slipping them into his pocket. "I know, but I don't know whether or not I should get plastered with you or let you run off with some girl." Daniel said, hooking his arm around the younger's neck. "Too soon man. What if i went off with another girl, You'd stop me?" Lando said with a bit of bite, shifting his gaze towards the other man. "Well no, I'm just trying to look after you man." Guilt immediately ran through his body, Daniel was trying to be helpful, and was more than likely doing the right thing. "Sorry, I'm just all over the place. This season has been hard, and you know the rest." Daniel patted his back before giving a reply, "We'll sort it out, mate, lets just focus on tonight, we can deal with everything tomorrow." Lando cracked a smile, "While we're hung over?" Their pace quickened as the approached the outside of the club. "Absolutely."Â
The loud music and lack of air sent a wave of pleasure through Lando's body, it felt so good to be in such an environment. There was always skin to skin contact, and it just felt so amazing. Lando felt a girl lean back, further into him, he was already a few drinks deep, but he was still capable of making good, enough, decisions. His hands quickly found her hips, but she didn't feel the same. However, that didn't stop him. He wanted to feel this close with someone, and she was more than willing; until her friend called her over. He was left on his own again, Daniel was still in the club, most likely in the bathroom. "I'll be back in a bit mate." He made it seem as though he was stepping out for some fresh air, but Lando quickly noticed him gravitating towards a woman, the same one he saw Daniel with last week. He didn't let that ruin his mood as he struggled to make way to the bar. As soon as he reached the table, the volume of the music seemed to fall slightly, he waited for a while, and in doing so he looked around, observing the people around him. Until he saw her hair, her skin, everything about her, it was hard for him to not recognise. "Can I have a vodka with full fat coke and a rum with diet coke please."
He walked over to her as quick as possible, placing his drink on the bar, and began dancing his fingers over her arm, she didn't even flinch "Found any attractive men to chat up?" She could feel his breath against her ear, he was speaking at a normal volume, knowing she could not hear him over the music otherwise. "I have now." Lando was so ecstatic that she was flirting back. He handed her the drink and she opened her mouth to speak, he noticed the glitter in her lip gloss and made a mental note that it needed to be smudged later. "Rum and diet coke." He sated simply and she smiled before taking a sip. "Thank you." He was shocked she was staying so formal, not formal per say, but you wouldn't expect some one you had a one night stand with to be appreciative of a drink. "What are you doing here, Lando?" As she spoke, his eyes travelled over her whole body, first he noticed the white sunglasses atop her head, then the glitter and blush covering her cheeks. "I could ask you the same thing, baby." She leaned closer to him, almost as if she was longing for his presence. "One of my friends... she really like sports and is watching these races, but she hates travelling alone, so I decided to come with her." It took a while for Lando to acknowledge that her friend was a formula one fan. He was too focused on her body, last time he saw her, she was wearing a white mesh top, this time it was a pink bra, covered in gems and glitter, and it just looked so good on her. "Tell me then, why are you here?" He grabbed her hip, feeling the material of her mesh skirt against his skin, he wanted her as close as possible. "Would you believe me if i said, my friend brought me here so he could go looking for a girl he hooked up with?" It wasn't a lie, but wasn't quite the truth. "Are you sure the name of your friend is not 'Lando'?" She laughed lightly, sipping her drink, hiding behind the glass once again. "I promise, only because his name is Daniel, you could ask him, but I don't think we will be seeing him tonight." She placed the empty glass on the bar and slid her hands up his chest, her touch was electrifying. "I'm sorry, I had to take your clothes, I couldn't leave in what I was wearing." His hands travelled over her back and down under her skirt, squeezing her ass lightly. "It's okay, you can keep it." He pulled her into a desperate and deep kiss. It lasted for what felt like hours. The skin on skin, the music, the alcohol, it all felt euphoric. "Come on, before I fuck you right here."
His hands never left her body, a firm grip around her waist, a reminder almost. Just as they made it out of the club their eyes immediately met, she was looking at him for a direction. "I've not got my hotel key." He almost whispered out. Lando claimed to have left it behind when Daniel knocked on the door; this also gave them an excuse to go back to her room, he knew she wouldn't disappear like last time. "Come on then." it come out more of a moan than a huff of annoyance. She practically pulled him down the road towards her hotel, to say Lando was shocked by the building was understatement. She kept a tight grip on him as they walked up the stairs, Lando was looking shamelessly up her skirt, not that the sheer fabric was hiding much. As soon as she reached the top step she pulled him into a rough kiss and almost moaned into his mouth, just feeling him riled her up. "Please, Lando." Her words were left in the air as he took the key from her hand and opened the door as quickly as possible "Come here, babe, need you so bad."Â
She chased his voice to the bed, she needed him just as much, but couldn't verbalise it. So she decided it would be best to swing herself over his lap and cover his neck in glittery red marks. In the process lando slid his hands up her back slowly, teasing not just her, but himself. She began to suck harder and bite slightly, tugging his skin between her teeth. "Fuck, babe." His breath got caught in his throat at the feeling. Lando didn't expect to her to do such a thing, especially with how he was the last time they were together, he was shocked that she was acting more demanding; so he trailed his hand up to her top, his fingers quickly hooked around the clasp of the bra, he pulled it far from her skin, and smiled at the thud of it back against her skin. She let out a loud whine, not anticipating the feeling. "Behave." She nodded quickly, not expecting to get chastised. Lando placed his hand under her ass and hoisted her up, turning around to gently place her on the edge of the bed, hands slowly and softly running his fingers along the outside of her thigh. She reached up and gripped his collar, pulling him lower. "Don't tease me."Â
"Or what?" He replied back in a flirty manner. As she felt his fingers against her underwear she gasped, he pushed her skirt up, not before admiring the pink butterflies on the mesh, he'd waited so long for this so he couldn't waste a minute. Lando grabbed her hips harshly and pulled her body closer to his. "I can stop right here, if you want." He pushed her underwear to the side and lowered his head. "No please, Lando please." She would feel him smirk against her skin as soon as she started speaking. He licked up against her cunt before focusing on her clit; he kitten licked at first, ignoring her pleas, then circling quickly, enjoying the noises she let out. He continued to abuse her clit and lightly teased her slit with one hand, the other pressing down lightly on her abdomen. He was paying more attention to her now, really trying to discover what made her feel good. Although it had only been a few weeks since they were together, Lando couldn't stop thinking about her. He felt guilty, he replayed that night in his head over and over, and he felt awful for not paying enough attention to her. When you hook up with someone you are not really there for the other person's pleasure, Lando wanted do change that. He thrusted his fingers slow, not rushing, he wanted to enjoy this, he wanted her to feel good. As he moved his fingers in a 'come here' motion she pushed her hips closer to him desperately, "Harder?" his eyes didn't leave her for a second, he wouldn't forget this, he couldn't miss the look on her face. "Faster." She barely said, out of breath from moaning so much. As soon as the words left her mouth, he was following the instruction, she was quivering slightly as he hands mad a home in his hair, tugging on it lightly, feeling him groan into her, adding to her pleasure. "Be good." Lando began to suck on her clit lightly, he wanted a reaction and that's what he got. She was practically singing a song for him. The hand that was resting on her abdomen travelled back towards her thigh, slipped under her knee. He lifted her leg up higher, her calf now resting against his back, forcing her thighs further apart, giving him more space. Her voiced echoed throughout the room as he sped up the movement of his tongue and fingers. "That's it babe, cum for me." The wave of pleasure that washed over her took her vision temporarily, white covered her vision as she came. She was on cloud nine and Lando didn't stop his attack.Â
When he came up from between her thighs he had a satisfied smile on his face, when they made eye contact the smile turned into a grin of joy. She moved back on the bed slightly, a blissed out look on her face still, Lando very quickly noticed the wet patch on the bed as he got up from his knees and got on the bed; unbuttoning his shirt in the process. He kissed up her abdomen slowly, leaving marks across her whole body, biting down in the manner she did prior. "Don't whine, its only fair." He laughed out, opening her legs once again. She gave him a pointed look, yet he just gave her one back, he wanted to be in control, and he got what he wanted. "Please." Her pleas fell upon deaf ears as he just continued to tease; he ran the tip of his cock up and down her cunt, focusing on her clit more often than not. He enjoyed teasing her, he felt as though he deserved it. Lando squeezed his cock lightly, he needed to feel some form of release, the pressure already building up. She took hold of his arm aggressively with a firm grip, knuckles turning white. He pushed in slow, just like before, not wanting to over stimulate her so soon after one orgasm. "That's it." Her eyes rolled back as soon as he started speaking, yet he couldn't look away, she was just so captivating, he wished he could say such a thing, but he could not, not in a situation like this. He began thrusting slowly and softly, more sensual than before. Lando gradually sped up, knowing it was something she liked, his hands wouldn't leave her body for more than a second, his hands would be dancing on her skin as a form of comfort. "Fuck, please." He liked to hear her beg, it felt like an exclusive sound, he didn't think anyone had fucked her, it was just a feeling, until he realised how quickly he made her cum. Lando pulled her legs around his waist, allowing him to her her deeper, "Oh yes." Lando wasn't quiet, she was just beyond loud, and his just got him impossibly harder. "Good girl, be good for me." Once of his hands left her him to slide down to her clit, rubbing fast circles; she could feel his touch all through out her body, every nerve sending signals felt like an overload. Her orgasm hit her hard, pelvis lifting up higher than Lando had already positioned it. She let out a choked whine as she felt Lando pulsating, all he felt was euphoria when he was with her, but this was on another level. Rope after rope of cum left his cock in pleasure, his head fell into the crook of her neck as he groaned, waves of pleasure still washing over him.Â
She winced as he pulled out, pushing her underwear back in place, he grabbed her neck softly, pulling her closer to him, he wanted to kiss her, he didn't want to beg, he still needed control, he didn't want to swallow his pride, her hands slid up his back and into the base of his hair, tugging so she could catch her breath. "Careful." He felt the need to remind her. "Promise." She smiled, smirked is a better adjective for the blissed out look on her face. Lando pulled back the cover of the bed, slipping under it with her, he kissed her neck softly as she slowly began to drift off, he inter locked their hands when he slid his arm over her waist. His eyes began to close as her breathing finally regulated.Â
When his eyes opened again, it was because of the morning light slipping through the hotel curtains. Lando's mind was still fuzzy. He tried to sit up but quickly realised his pounding headache was from alcohol, then all memories came running through his mind, then a wave of panic. He turned to the side a quickly as possible, noticing no one was in his arms. She was gone. He ran his hand over the mattress and noticed it was cold, disappointment flooded his whole body, and so he felt lethargic; Until he realised that they had come back to her hotel room last night, a smile crept up on his face as he sat up. The thought of having a long conversation, with out too much flirting, was his first thought. Until he saw his hoodie, the one she stole the first night together. He assumed she would have been wearing it, or at least taken it home before flying out for this trip, but no, it was folded neatly on the counter in front of the bed. Lando, finally, built up the courage to get out o the bed, and saw that her suitcase was gone, so were her shoes, so was she.Â
He was, once again, left in an empty bed.Â
Masterlist
There was a lot of struggle in trying to finish this (things not saving and paragraphs randomly deleting because reasons) but I seem to repel technology. If Iâve made any spelling mistakes let me know.
#f1 x reader#f1 x reader smut#f1 smut#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#lando norris x reader#f1 fic#lando norris x reader smut#lando norris#lando norris smut#lando x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x oc#lando norris x fem!reader
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I Know I Should Know Better 6
Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader
Word Count: ~3.5k
Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?
Warnings: Angst, adult themes, complicated power dynamics, minor age difference (not explicit in this part, but reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), explicit language, anxiety, negative self-talk. They're both having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: Finally back with this one! And it's the penultimate chapter!! We're so close to the happy ending, you guys!!
Huge thanks to @bigtreefest and @stargazingfangirl18 who talked me through this when I was struggling with the last scene.
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screaming at me. đ As always, thank you so much for reading! đ
You were lounging right next to your pool, dragging your fingertips through the water. It was the last day before you flew to New York to start the publicity tour for the last movie you had in the hopper. It had been made very clear that you needed to have your next project figured out and signed by the time this tour was done. Right now, you were supposed to be reading a script Wilford had sent over, but you hadnât even opened it yet. You couldnât stop thinking about what Curtis had asked you the night before. Did you even like acting? You were embarrassed, still, that you hadnât had an answer for him. Youâd started doing it so young, it had always just been what you did. Liking it or not had never been part of the equation. And if you were good at it, shouldnât you like it? Didnât those things go hand in hand? You were less sure of that now.
Last night had been eye-opening in many ways. You couldnât remember the last time youâd had a night where you felt so much like yourself. None of the performance, none of the image. Just you. Youâd been a little worried that the performance was all that was left of you. It was nice to see that that wasnât true.
And then there was Curtis. Fuck, he was beautiful. On the outside, obviously, but inside â it sounded so dumb, but he had such a beautiful soul. You groaned at yourself internally. Very, very dumb. But seeing him in his house, with Edgar, in his kitchen, in his bedroom on his knees in front of you? Shit, he may have been the most beautiful person that had ever lived. And you were maybe in love with him.
Fuck. Itâd hit you last night, during dinner. Youâd looked over at him, sitting across from you, blushing as he watched you eat the food heâd made and itâd just popped into your head â I love this man. You didnât think thatâd ever happened to you before. So of course youâd dragged him into his bedroom. But even that was different. You werenât used to sex not being the point of the whole thing. But Curtis made you feel like it was just one of a thousand things he wanted to do with you. That it was just one of the worthwhile things about you. It was overwhelming. He was so overwhelming.
And so, that thought. I love him I love him I love him just on a loop in your head since itâd first entered your mind. You grabbed your phone next to you and typed out and sent the message quickly before you could think better of it.Â
I think I might be in love.
The reply from Marnie was immediate.Â
Thatâs exciting, isnât it?
You bit your lip as you answered.
I guess. I mean, yeah, it is. Itâs really great! But heâs not in the industry, not really, and I donât know. Iâve never felt this way before and so much could go wrong.
There was no pause before you had her answer.
Donât borrow trouble, sweetheart. Itâs ok to just let yourself be happy now.
You stared at her message. Be happy now. Before you could figure out what to even do with that, another text came through.
Is he good to you?
You smiled automatically.
He is. Heâs so good to me. The best.
Iâm happy for you.
And you knew she was. She was one of the only friends youâd ever had whose motivations you never questioned, compliments you never doubted. She just wanted good things for you. Because she liked you. That was it. Between Marnie and Curtis, you werenât sure youâd ever felt so well-liked before. It was nice, to have multiple people who genuinely cared about you.Â
You typed out a quick thank you and then checked the time and smiled to yourself before making your way back inside. Sure enough, Curtis was there, settled on a couch in the living room.
You lowered yourself onto the couch next to him, on top of him, really. You both cut a wary glance toward the kitchen but Michelle was engrossed in her computer at the kitchen island, answering emails, and managing your schedule. Jensen was out doing something with the car. There was no one else around, no one paying attention. âHi,â you whispered softly, right in his ear.
âHi,â he whispered back and smiled, that private one that was only for you. He wrapped his arm around you and twined his fingers through yours. You rested your head on his shoulder and hummed contentedly. You both just rested there, taking a quiet moment together before the day got busy and youâd have to pretend that you hadnât woken up next to him, able to watch the sun rise on his face.
The quiet calm was punctured when, from the kitchen, you heard Michelleâs phone blow up and a moment later she cried out âWhat the actual fuck?!â
Your phone quickly followed suit and, most worryingly, so did Curtisâs. You both scrambled to check what on earth was going on as Michelle marched into the living room. As soon as sheâd rounded the couch, she yelled at Curtis, âAre you seriously fucking her?!â
You stared at her, your eyes round. âWhat?â you gasped. You stood up, trying to put some distance between all of you as you opened your phone. The notifications were still pinging. Multiple calls coming in at once, texts, Twitter, Instagram. You opened Twitter and tried to find the root of everything. And there it was, on TMZ a zoomed-in shot of you and Curtis on the corner by his house. His hands were on your waist, you were leaning in for a kiss, a happy smile on your face. Whoever took it had gotten both your faces. It was obviously the two of you, clear as day. âNo, no, no,â you started to chant.Â
Curtis was in front of you in an instant. âItâs gonna be ok,â he said, just to you, and grabbed your hand and squeezed it.
Michelle was still standing at the end of the couch, freaking out. She was focused on Curtis, mostly ignoring you. âThis is a complete disaster!â she yelled. âIâd expect this from her,â she said throwing a hand in your direction without actually looking at you, âbut I never thought youâd do something this monumentally stupid, Curtis!â
âHey!â You yelled, finally getting her attention. âThis isnât his fault, ok? Leave him alone.â
She stared at you, her mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out, before her phone rang insistently. She glanced at it and grimaced. âTanya,â she said, accusingly, âOf course! I have to go fucking deal with this.â Â
Curtis stayed where he was and silently rubbed your back as you scrolled through Twitter. This was so, so bad. People had immediately started speculating about who you were with in the picture and it hadnât taken long for someone to link to pictures of you with Curtis in the background. Theyâd have his name soon, if they didnât already. And then the hounding would start. He was never going to forgive you for this. Youâd never forgive yourself.Â
You were pulled out of your spiral by his hand on your cheek. âHey,â he said lowly, looking you right in the eye. âStop. Itâs going to be okay.â
You shook your head. âYou donât know that. You donât know what itâs gonna be like.â
âNeither do you,â he said with so much confidence you almost believed him. He must have seen at least part of what you were worried about because his next words were âIâm a big boy. I can take care of myself.â
You wanted to be reassured, but you knew that he didnât really understand, couldnât understand, all of the things that were going to happen now. And he was going to hate you for it.
His phone rang again, still, and when he checked it, he grimaced. You did too when you saw your manager, Lloydâs name, on the screen. He answered the call as he stepped away from you, trailing a gentle hand down your arm as he went.Â
You watched him carefully. His expression was serious, but he didnât raise his voice at all. Just nodded several times and gave short answers that were low enough you couldnât hear them. With one final nod, he hung up and came back to you.
âIâm being called in,â he said quietly. He looked up and you followed his gaze to find Michelle standing in the transition space to the kitchen. âYeah,â he sighed, âlooks like you are too. All hands on deck.â
Curtis drove separately on his motorcycle. You tried not to read too much into it for his current state of mind.Â
He rejoined you as you and your entire team were ushered into a conference room. You knew it was bad when no one moved to sit. Curtis came up and stood behind you, pressing himself into your back with a soft hand on your hip. You exhaled at the contact and leaned your head against him.Â
Lloyd spoke first, narrowing his eyes at the two of you. âI take it from this display there was no coercion involved in this mess?â
You looked down at the implication you could have used your power or influence against Curtis, ashamed even though you knew that wasnât the case. You opened your mouth to try to defend yourself when Curtis just growled out, âNo. Definitely not.â
Lloyd gave a grim smile. âPerfect,â he said. âThen youâre fired. Obviously.â
Before you could even process what was happening, Curtisâs hand tightened on your hip. His voice was strong and clear when he said, âYes, of course.âÂ
Your head whipped back and forth between Curtis and Lloyd. âWhat? No!â you cried. âNot obviously! Not of course! Heâs my bodyguard. This should be my decision!â
âNo, actually,â Lloyd said. âHe works for me, not you, so Iâm the one who decides what we do with him. Thank god, since youâve shown such a shocking lack of judgment here.âÂ
Your head drooped in shame as Curtisâs other hand came up to hold you on both sides now. âHey,â he growled. âShe isnât a child. Donât speak to her like one.âÂ
âWatch it!â Lloyd took a step forward, but Curtis held steady behind you.
âWhy?â Curtis asked. âI donât work for you anymore, so fuck you and watch how you speak to her. Itâs her work that pays you.â
Tanya stepped forward, putting her hands out to try to de-escalate the situation. âAnd itâs our hard work that keeps her employable.â She looked to you now. âYou have to see what a mess this is. The day before you start a national press tour. Now this will be all anyone wants to know about. And someone who works for you. Itâs not a good look and itâs going to take a lot for us all to clean it up.â She looked around the room at everyone gathered. âSo weâre all going to sit down now and hammer out our strategy for the next several weeks. Media training obviously,â she said with a side-eye to Curtis, âlining up sympathetic profiles. Weâll need to figure out whatâs on our âdo not askâ list and what weâll have to let slip throughâŚâ
Her voice faded away as you stopped listening. Youâd fucked everything up. Youâd ruined Curtisâs life. Thrust him into the spotlight Cratered your own career. Caused endless headaches for everyone around you. You could feel the tears pushing against the rims of your eyes, but you couldnât let them fall. Not yet. You wouldnât cry in this room with these people. âWhatever,â you said, your voice shaking. âFigure out what we need to do. You donât need me for that. You can tell me on the fucking plane.â Without waiting for any kind of response, you stormed out of the conference room, Curtis right on your heels.Â
You didnât stop until you were in the parking lot, next to his motorcycle. The moment you stopped moving, you burst into tears. âIâm so sorry,â you gasped. âIâm so fucking sorry!â
âHey.â Curtisâs hands gently, tentatively landed on your shoulders. âItâs going to be ok. Shh, itâs alright.â
âI got you fired!â
âHey, I got me fired, ok? I made this choice too, knowing full well what the consequences would be. Iââ He was interrupted by his phone ringing. He ignored the call without looking but it immediately rang again. He grimaced, irritated, but his face softened into concern when he saw who it was. âJust aââ he started to you, âI have to take this.â Then he stepped away, his phone pressed to his ear. âHold on,â you heard him say as he left. âEdgar, calm down.â
You grew more and more uneasy as you watched Curtis pace around. You could clearly tell it was bad news. Of course, it was. What else would it be today? You wondered what else you had ruined for him, how else youâd made his life worse. You didnât have to wait long to find out, as only a few minutes later he came back to you.
âSo, uh,â he began, his hand on the back of his neck, âI was going to suggest we go to my house, but it sounds like there are a bunch of paps camped out there. If we go to yours, we can at least go in the back way on my bike and avoid them.â
He couldnât go home. Of course, theyâd figured out who he was and where he lived. You knew they would. âIâm so sorry,â you whispered.
âHey,â he said, his voice firm. âThis isnât your fault. It justâ It just is.â He sighed and his whole body drooped with it. âCome on, letâs get out of here.â
You were both quiet as you got off his bike and made your way into your house. Curtis was right behind you as you climbed the stairs to your bedroom. All the way home all youâd been able to think about was what a disaster this was and how you shouldâve known it was the only way it could turn out. You shouldâve expected it. You rarely got to keep nice things.
 When you got into your room, you crawled into the middle of the bed and folded into yourself. Curtis lingered by your dresser, leaning against the wall, his arms stiff at his sides, his face tight. It felt like there was an ocean between you. âWould you please just get mad at me already?â you whispered.
âWhat?â he asked, brow furrowed.
âI know youâre mad at me. You have to be! I deserve it. So, please, just do it. Get it over with. I canât wait anymore.â
âI donât want to be mad at you,â he sighed. âToday is already terrible. Donât make me be mad at you too, on top of it all.â
 âI got you fired! And now you canât go home! Thisâ Iââ You deflated a little, and much more quietly, said, âNone of this would have happened if I were someone else. I know that itâs my fault. So if youâre going to go, just do it, already.âÂ
âIâm not going to goâ he said, firmly.Â
âWhy not?â you pleaded. âEveryone else does!â
âWell, I'm not like everyone else. You know that. Stop trying to make me more like them.â He leaned his head back against the wall, and looked up at the ceiling. âI love you,â he said so softly. He moved to the foot of the bed, where he kneeled down and reached out to grasp your ankle. âAll of you. Even this part. I wish youâd believe me.â
Your eyes filled with tears again and a little voice inside your head chanted tell him tell him tell him but you couldnât get the words out, so instead you just whispered, again, âI'm sorry.â
He sighed again. He seemed so tired. âStop apologizing, please. None of today was your fault.â
âYou wanted to quit that first morning. I should have let you. But I was selfish.â
âYou werenât selfish,â he said, rubbing his thumb in a soothing circle on your skin. âYou were scared. And you were right. I loved that this just got to belong to the two of us for a little while. No one else. That you just belonged to me.â
Say it say it say it, the voice chanted. Instead, you leaned over and kissed him. You tried to put everything you were feeling into the kiss. All of the things you couldnât yet say. And you felt him tell you everything he felt about you back. It was overwhelming.Â
Eventually you pulled away, but twined your fingers with his. âI wish we didnât have to go to New York tomorrow. Wish we could just hide out here for a little while.â
He breathed your name and when you looked up at him, you were startled by the sadness in his eyes. âIâm not coming to New York with you.â
âWhat?â you asked, panic rising in your voice. âWhy not?â
âIâm not your bodyguard anymore.â
And even though you knewâyou were there when it happenedâit still hit you like a ton of bricks. You had to force yourself to keep breathing. âCome anyway,â you begged.
He shook his head. âWith everything thatâs happened, thereâs a lot for me to figure out here.â
You pulled your hand away and curled up so that your chin rested on your knees. âI donât want to go,â you said, and even you could hear how small you sounded.
âThen donât,â Curtis said, like anything had ever been that easy.
You let out a humorless chuckle. âI have to go.â He just scowled. âCurtis, I have obligations! You act like youâve never had to do something you didnât want to.â
He nodded as he stood up. âSure, I have. Sometimes. Not all the time. Not everything I do.âÂ
You got up on your knees on the bed. âI canât just not do the press tour! They wonât let me!âÂ
He said your name again and it sounded desperate this time. âThis is your life! Arenât you tired of letting everyone else live it for you? I know Iâm tired of watching it!â
âIâm notââ you started, but Curtis couldnât seem to stop now that heâd started.
âIf you donât want to act anymore, then quit! If you just want to take a break, then do that! The only control they have over you is what youâve given them. Your team, your mom, your fans, the press. This is your life, not theirs. Please, take it back.â He got on the bed with you, right in front of you so that your knees touched. âIâm begging you,â he whispered, âlive your life. Please.â
You just stared at him and he stared back, unflinching. You felt something crack open inside of you and you started crying in earnest now. You couldnât stop. He envelolped you in his arms, holding you tight. Which only made you cry harder because you felt so safe there.Â
Everything always seemed so simple when he laid it out like that. But this was your life. It was the only life youâd ever known. Could it really be that easy just to take back everything you felt like youâd lost? Looking into his eyes, it seemed like maybe it could be.
Very gently he layed you down on the bed, pushing your pillow under your head and laying down right next to you. âWill you stay?â you asked. âTonight, will you stay?â
âOf course,â he said. âWhatever you want.â
You sniffled, your eyes still wet. âWill you hold me? I just want to be close to you.â
âAlways,â he said, wrapping his arms around you again. âAlways.â
Your alarm went off early in the morning. As you got up Curtis started to rouse as well. You gently pushed him back into the bed. âYou donât need to get up,â you said softly. âGo back to sleep. Stay as long as you want. Iâll see you soon. Iâll miss you.â
Still half asleep, he lifted his head enough to kiss you. When you pulled away, he fell back onto his pillow and closed his eyes.
As quietly as you could, you got ready, then grabbed the bag Michelle had packed for you and went out to where Jensen had the car waiting for you. As the car drove away with you in the backseat, something about the moment felt significant in a way you didnât really understand.
Tag list is open
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#curtis everett x reader#curtis everett#curtis everett x you#curtis everett x female reader#bodyguard au#snowpiercer#chris evans fanfiction#fanfic#bodyguard!curtis everett#bodyguard!curtis everett x actress!reader#reader insert#i know i should know better#kris wrote something
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Not sure if this is okay to ask, you don't have to answer it if so, but is the EW (I can't spell the word em something weeping,) comic on hiatus for now?
EW is not on hiatus! This update has just been slow going, because Iâm kiiinda in the middle of trying to start a small side business (đ¤đ) AND because I wanna have some big, important plot/scenes covered. So far at least, itâs gonna have to be broken down into about three separate tumblr posts, because of the image limit, and Iâm still not done with adding to it.
I donât want to do smaller, spaced out uploads, for this update, because I donât want to kill the momentum for whatâs basically going to be the penultimate finale to Leoâs arc. Thereâs going to be this next huge update, and then one more wrap up partâŚ.AND THEN WEâRE MOVING ONTO DONNIEâS ARC!!!! đ
So I appreciate you guys being so patient with the wait. I really want the climax of Leoâs arc to be good!
#rottmnt#ask slushie#ew au#ew au ask#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#empyrean weeping au
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Summer 2024 anime roundup: ALL IN ONE
hey! i also post these reviews on my ko-fi. this is a labor of love so if you like the stuff i write, i'd really appreciate it if you'd throw a few bucks my way. thanks!
Well, I'm much busier now than I was in the first half of the year, so that means less time for anime and less time for writing about it. I managed to watch only (ONLY?) nine shows this season, so might as well put it all in one post.
As always, each show's OP is linked in the title.
Let's jump in.
Returning anime
NieR: Automata Ver. 1.1a, part 2
After a COVID-plagued production delayed the last few episodes of its first half last year, A-1 Picturesâ adaptation of Yoko Taroâs landmark action-RPG returns to deliver the real meat of the story. And as with the game, the first half of NieR: Automata Ver. 1.1a was something Iâd classify as âpretty good!,â while the remainder is what makes the entire endeavor worthwhile.
Iâm happy to report that not only did the studio not lose a step, but they improved on the presentation of Ver. 1.1a immensely. The action sequences are superb and expressive throughout, and the CGI integration is actually, yâknow, integrated this time out. The score, both original and borrowed from Keiichi Okabeâs contributions to the NieR duology, remains as evocative as ever. They also ramped up the cheesecake more than a little bit, and letâs be real, that was the draw for a lot of people in the first place.
If thereâs any one thing Ver. 1.1a can claim as an advantage over the gameâs narrative, itâs that the former does a lot more work in building on A2 as a character. Thereâs just enough to chew on in the game, but having more of her backstory from the YoRHa stage play and manga adaptation integrated into the narrative makes for more of a meal. Having A2âs history and real personality pinned up as a backdrop as she struggles to suppress both really fleshes out her journey and eventual resolve as shit continues to hit the fan. Sheâs also just a big olâ tsundere sometimes. And not for nothing, but they gave her an absolute DUMPY for no reason, but I canât really pin that as a negative.
9Sâ whole thing happens too. I really donât have much to add to that.
When I reviewed this showâs first half at the end of 2023, I mentioned that the initial concern with the animeâs very existence is that itâs adapting a narrative that is functionally being told through the very fact that itâs a video game. The delivery of the gameâs true ending, especially, is so innately A Video Game that itâs functionally impossible to adapt directly into a television show. Iâm happy to say that although that function is lost, Ver. 1.1aâs ending is still plenty satisfying (and Iâm told especially so for Drakengard fans, without giving too much away). Something is still very much lost in the transition, though. In his review of the penultimate episode, Anime News Networkâs James Beckett wrote:
What the anime of NieR:Automata has not been able to capture in these critical final moments is the way that the game makes its players complicit in the tragedy in a way that they could never be if they simply sat down and passively watched these events unfold from behind the safe veil of the fourth wall. It would be like if we were each individually guided on stage to place our hands on Hamlet's shoulder and push him gently onwards to his final destination. It doesn't change anything about what happens in the story, but it changes everything about what it means to us.
These acts of âludonarrative culpability,â as Beckett called it, are the reason why Yoko Taro is considered an auteur in the gaming sphere. Both NieRÂ games are tragedies writ large, and Yokoâs genius lies in making you, the player, carry out the tragedy, often well before you realize what youâve wrought. And to Beckettâs point from his review, NieR: Automata is a perfectly fine sci-fi story in its own right, but the game puts the blood squarely on the playerâs hands and inserts them into the narrative in a way that simply watching cannot. The connection I felt to the story was only there because Iâd already played the game myself; I can only imagine how it would feel if this was your introduction to NieR.
So to return to a question I suggested at the end of last year: Do I recommend this to people who havenât played the game? Eh, not particularly. Itâs a well-made show, to be sure, but thereâs enough missing from what makes Automata such an exceptional game that Iâm not sure I can recommend it wholeheartedly if youâre not already familiar. Then again, I wouldnât really know how it reads from the other side. To those who know and love the game, Ver. 1.1a isnât quite the âRebuild of NieRâ some were hoping it to be, but itâs an interesting companion piece that takes surprising strides to tie it even closer to the preceding franchise. If youâre a newcomer? YMMV. Either way, play the game.
Oshi no Ko, season 2
I spent far more time than was necessary in the Discourse Mines following Oshi no Koâs thunderous debut last year and a controversial (but fortunately inconsequential) turn of events in the manga shortly after the season finale. Though I remain one of the seriesâ foremost glazers, Iâve had my moments where I worried that maybe I overrated it a bit in my head, that I carried too much water for writer Aka Akasaka, and that Iâm still riding the high of the seriesâ premiere.
Oshi no Koâs second season completely erased any lingering worry almost immediately and reminded me and the world that yes, it Really Is That Good. The âItâs So Overâ switch flipped to âWe Are So Backâ as soon as best girl Kana Arima and co-lead Taiki Himekawa dazzled their co-stars and one another with literally colorful displays of their acting prowesses. My expectations continued to rise as an active reader of the source material, and studio Doga Kobo continued to surpass them. This adaptation is just that good.
Aquaâs quest for revenge and Akasakaâs continuing examination of Japanâs entertainment industry both lead us into the world of stage acting, specifically 2.5D adaptations of famous manga and anime. Aqua is cast alongside Kana and his sham girlfriend and former reality show co-star Akane in an adaptation of the fictional smash hit shonen manga Tokyo Blade, along with several members of a theater company to which Ai once belonged. While Aqua is more concerned with getting dirt on Aiâs background than he is with acting, Kana and Akane have much more personal stakes as they try to show one another up and still put on the best play they can. Kana canât stand Akaneâs absolutist, matter-of-fact approach to acting (nor the fact that sheâs fake-dating the guy for whom Kanaâs down abysmal), while Akane, who idolized Kana as a child and is disappointed to see her take a step back as an actress, is trying her damnedest to rekindle the spark that convinced her to pick up acting in the first place. On the fringes, rookie actor Melt Narushima is trying to make up for a heinous performance in the first season that earned him the scorn of his more experienced castmates as well as a mangakaâs permanent ire.
A good amount of this arc does feel like Akasaka was still sorting through his feelings about the Kaguya-sama live adaptation when he wrote it, but he also gave himself some room for reflection on his own side of the equation as a mangaka. Tokyo Bladeâs creator, Abiko Samejima, holds her creation very dear and is not impressed with the script. Her friend and former boss, Yoriko Kichijouji, is entirely too familiar with how badly the process can go; her own manga, Sweet Today, was horribly botched in this showâs first season, and she wants to help Abiko-sensei keep a level head. Kichijouji-sensei is the voice of reason this time out as she points out all of the concessions creators may need to take in order to get their work adapted and the unimpeachable truth that mangaka are basically crazy people (and you can practically hear Akasaka screaming through her lines; four months after Kichijouji said this in the manga, Kaguya-sama published its final chapter, marking Akasakaâs retirement from illustrating serialized manga). At her urging, in addition to an all-nighter helping Abiko-sensei make a deadline, the play goes off without any more hitches.
I didnât much care for the Tokyo Blade arc in the manga but I knew full well that it would translate well to anime just as well as the acting sequences in the first season had. Akasakaâs decision to have the actors treat the stage as a battleground felt a little silly on the page, but experiencing everything again in sound and motion reminded me that this was the same genre of psychological competition that made Kaguya-sama one of my all-time favorites. Doga Kobo is just stupidly good at adapting manga. God, the animation is incredible. Character animation is as deliberate and mesmerizing as always, and emotional moments are punctuated by interpretive splashes of watercolors. Meltâs breakout on stage was a standout moment in the manga, but the abstract, expressionistic depiction of his redemption was so perfectly conceived on screen that life imitated art: Kichijouji-sensei cried in the anime, and manga artist Mengo Yokoyari cried in real life.
I could go on and on and on, but if youâre already this deep into Oshi no Ko I really donât need to tell you anything else. This season, for all its gorgeous visuals and onstage glory, does not hesitate to remind you at the worst possible moments that this is still ultimately a revenge story and pulls the rug from you just as gleefully as it dazzles. The first season was already exceptional, but the second cements Oshi no Ko as an all-time great adaptation. As a fan of the manga, this is as good of an anime as I could ask for, and then some.
Mixed Bags
My Deer Friend Nokotan
Iâm just exhausted.
Iâll admit, I bit a little too hard on the marketing. The preview trailers promised madcap, nonsensical fun on the level of Nichijou or Asobi Asobase, the cast was exceptional, and the OPâs refrain was a total earworm (Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan! Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan! Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan!). It even has the cast jumping in the air! And we all know the Ryo Yamada rule! This was going to set the bar for gag anime!
Oh, how little I knew. Yâknow how sometimes you see a trailer for a middling comedy movie and you can tell they already gave away all of the movieâs best jokes? Turns out My Deer Friend Nokotan did just that. I did temper my expectations; itâs not like I thought this was going to be the second coming of Nichijou or anything, but I guess I was still expecting something, I dunno, funnier?
The premise seemed to lend itself to a good comedy either way: Torako Koshi, a former delinquent, has successfully expunged her prior reputation and worked her way up to becoming her schoolâs student council president. All of that is nearly thrown away when a bizarre new student, Noko Shikanoko, immediately clocks her and almost spills the beans. Also, Shikanoko (who prefers to be addressed as Nokotan) has antlers and can commune with deer. She may even be a deer herself. She hoodwinks Koshi into starting a Deer Club at school, where they recruit Koshiâs upsetting younger sister Anko and the languid, rice-obsessed Bashame. Allegedly, shenanigans ensue.
Take this with a grain of salt, as humor is very subjective, but this show just plain isnât very funny. Nokotanâs gags hit at least as often as they miss, and a lot of them just feel unforgivably dull. One bad segment can feel like an entire episode. The only reliable gags are gross-out humor, outsized slow-motion violence, or Nausicaä references. Everything else is just Koshi barging into the lower third of the screen to shout about how wacky the joke was just then.
Look, I know that humor doesnât always translate across cultures. The things I donât understand about Japanese humor could fill several libraries. I do, at the very least, get the basics of the boke/tsukkomi dynamic (fool and straight-man, basically) and how the reaction to a silly thing is usually the real punchline. Iâve absorbed enough Japanese media to adapt to that momentum. That nearly goes out the window here, because Koshiâs role as the tsukkomi is a straight-up momentum killer. Itâs rarely just a âwait, what?!â or a âyeah, thatâs rich coming from you;â itâs usually more like âwait, that is so ridiculous! You couldnât possibly have pulled that off! And whatâs that youâre wearing all of a sudden?â The rhythm is just gone. Comic timing? Donât know her. Even if I thought the joke was funny at first, you could probably see any semblance of a smirk fading off my face by the time she was done. And hey, maybe some of this stuff doesnât translate. Maybe itâs not that funny in Japan either.
The other characters outside of our main two really donât help. Ankoâs whole âyandere sisconâ act isnât very funny to start with, and she brings nothing to the table otherwise. Bashame is such a nothing character that even Koshi was sick of her by the end of the season. And while I feel like a good narrator can add a good level of je ne sais quoi to a comedy anime (see: Kaguya-sama), an overly intrusive one can actively take away from the humor (see: the Kaguya-sama dub). Nokotanâs narrator comes at it with a sort of winking, nudging âHEY, WEâRE A GAG ANIMEâ energy that gets too grating, too quickly. What doesnât help is that he eventually affects a fake-desperate âplease watch this show and tell your friends!â bent that called to mind Ron Howardâs narration in Arrested Developmentâs third season as it was approaching cancellation. Meta humor, as in the latter, can absolutely elevate the level of comedy; 100 Girlfriends in particular wielded it like a machete. In Nokotan, on the other hand, it betrays a clear lack of confidence in the writing, and thereâs nothing less funny than comedy that doesnât even believe in itself.
Itâs not all awful, I swear. There are genuinely some very good gags; Nokotanâs cat-and-mouse game with an anachronistic matagi was a blast from beginning to end, and the skin-suit gag got a bigger laugh out of me than almost anything else I saw this season. Any good anime, especially a comedy, lives and dies by its voice cast, and Megumi Hanâs performance as the titular Nokotan is this showâs whirring, beeping life support. She makes the absolute most of her considerable range as the jokes call for it, while somehow never stepping on her own toes by dipping into her Kana Arima voice from Oshi no Ko. Koshi shares a VA with Hatsune goddamn Miku. Bashame is pretty much only tolerable thanks to the languid performance of relative newcomer Fuuka Izumi, whom Iâm very glad to hear in something that isnât Gushing Over Magical Girls.
And aside from the music (the OP, to be fair, is infectious), thatâs about all there is to like about the production. Did Studio WIT really make this? It looks like it couldâve been made by anybody, and thatâs not a compliment. The uncanny CGI deer were the only real visual standout, and even those lost their shine before long. Something attempting to be this audacious needs to have a look to match, and Nokotan falls flat. Again, maybe thatâs on me for trying to hold it to the standard Nichijou set.
Iâd honestly be surprised if this gets picked up for another season. Iâd be hard-pressed to come back for more.
No Longer Allowed in Another World
(CONTENT WARNING for discussion of suicide)
Osamu Dazai was one of the most complex and fascinating figures in Japanâs modern literary canon, right up there with his ideological opposite and real-life rival, Yukio Mishima. Dazai was, frankly, a disaster. He was a serial womanizer, terrible with money, repeatedly disowned by his family, unemployable, a deadbeat dad, and hopelessly addicted to drugs and booze. His magnum opus, Ningen Shikkaku, or No Longer Human, is a stark semi-autobiography, just barely fictionalizing his repeated failures of dignity and self-preservation, including his several failed attempts at double-suicide with his many illicit lovers. The same year it was published, however, Dazai was successful in his final attempt, drowning himself alongside his mistress in 1948.
But like, what if he got hit by the isekai truck instead?
Isekai Shikkaku, or No Longer Allowed in Another World, fully Goes There. The series begins with the legally distinct, unnamed Sensei and his lover Sacchan blindsided by an anachronistic truck along the riverbed. Sensei comes to, alone, in a monastery inspired by the JRPGs from well after his time. He doesnât know whatâs going on and he doesnât care. All that matters is that heâs still alive, and that sucks for him. Sensei is greeted by Annette, an elf priestess in a virgin killer sweater, who is shocked to discover that not only has he not gained a single stat boost by coming to this world, but heâd also rather kill himself than take her up on the standard offer of an OP cheat skill (and heâd also just rather kill himself in general). So he bounces to go find Sacchan. His refreshing outlook on the new world, as opposed to the other excitable losers who got isekaiâd before him, completely melts Annetteâs brain to the point of falling in love with him on the spot, so she dons her sluttiest Persona 3 battle armor to chase after him.
Sensei hates this shit. Contemporary western fantasy hadnât made its way to Japan yet in his time, so he has zero point of reference in this world, and he sure as shit has no clue what a JRPG is. The level-up jingles give him migraines. He has no self-preservation instincts and the only solace he has in this strange new world is a jar of toxic sleeping pills that he munches like M&Ms. He has no interest in or aptitude for fighting, so when he encounters a big-tiddy catgirl being squeezed half to death by a walking treeâs branches, Sensei sees the perfect opportunity to get himself killed. Unfortunately, his blood has become so toxic from said pills that piercing his skin instantly kills the tree, saving the young lady he incorrectly names Tama. Much to Annetteâs consternation, she joins the party, and they set out on Senseiâs quest to find his lover and finally die in peace.
As you can guess, thatâs not what happens. For some time, we see Sensei throwing himself in harmâs way, floridly imploring various fantasy monsters to kill him in one shot with their big bats, to the point where they get creeped out. His vaguely-threatening exhortations for death make for a fine formula, but one that can wear thin quickly. Before it gets that chance, though, the seed planted in Annetteâs introduction bears fruit: The visitors to this world from our own arenât here in isolation, and they have succeeded in completing the usual isekai goal of overthrowing the demon king. Thereâs now a massive power vacuum, and nature abhors that shit, so a cabal of erstwhile isekai protags dub themselves the Fallen Angels and decide to take over.
This turn was, to put it bluntly, the main thing that kept me watching. Thereâs a fine bit of commentary inherent to this framing that the type of wet-noodle, borderline faceless self-insert isekai protags tend to appeal to antisocial losers who would rather give into their basest impulses than see an opportunity to actually better themselves. This is not at all lost on Sensei; his keen eye for the human condition leads him to interrogate the Fallen Angels his party encounters so that he can write about their own failures as humans, as well as the gaping voids in their previous lives that led to them acting like petty tyrants as soon as they gained a bit of power and treating a brand new world like their own personal playground. Senseiâs writings reveal that he did indeed gain a power when he came over to this world; if he sees fit, a finished book will surround its subject and reanimate them back in their original world and afford them a second chance to right their wrongs or, in one particularly moving case, start over on the right foot.
For as audacious as No Longer Allowedâs premise is and as impeccable its comic timing and voice cast (you will find some absolute heaters completely buried on the call list), I just didnât find it all that compelling. Isekai as a genre is so oversaturated that it was old hat to call it oversaturated even five years ago, so while I do try to pan for gold, sometimes I just come up with a neat-looking river stone. Hell, I canât even say this oneâs all that neat-looking; thereâs nothing that looks all that great about it to begin with. The character designs and backdrops are pretty standard JRPG-style stuff that youâre just as likely to find in the likes of Helck, with lackluster animation to match. Didnât care too much for most of the characters either. Even for its commentary on the isekai genre and the type of person it caters to, No Longer Allowed just ends up shaking out like another isekai series.Â
Thereâs clearly more at play here, and I might just go ahead and read the manga because I didnât really find myself looking forward to watching the anime. Maybe it just didnât translate well. No Longer Allowed in Another World does clearly have something to say under its silly premise, but its method of getting that message across is, ironically, buried underneath the usual trappings of the genre itâs trying to say something about.Â
Wistoria: Wand and Sword
Iâm gonna preface this by saying that Wistoria is probably the best anime I watched this year that Iâve classified as a âMixed Bag,â save for Jellyfish Canât Swim in the Night. Iâm generally of the mind that excellent production can make up for a middling story (my enjoyment of the likes of Solo Leveling and Wind Breaker this year was pretty emblematic of that), and that is the case here for the most part. Wistoria, story-wise, is nothing special; itâs your standard power fantasy set in a magical school, but the entire presentation is just almost fascinating enough to overcome that hurdle.
Hell, itâs almost not even worth going over the plot. Unassuming boy named Will goes to a magic academy, he doesnât have any magical aptitude, so he makes up for it by honing his hand-to-hand combat prowess in the schoolâs designated dungeon. Itâs Mashle meets Solo Leveling. Will gets picked on (like, a LOT), but he doesnât care, because he made a promise long ago to reach the pinnacle of magical society to reach his childhood friend, who happens to be a genius mage. There are duels, thereâs a tournament, thereâs monsters, you know how this goes.
Will has allies in the school, namely a female friend whoâs madly in love with him as well as a professor who covers for his shortcomings in magic-related subjects, but remember that this is a self-insert fantasy: There are also increasingly menacing bullies for him to put in their place. Will is challenged by a Snape-like instructor, a classmate who just hates him so much for not having magic aptitude, and a top performer at the school whoâs just flat-out evil (and racist to boot!). And of course the latter two also have goon squads of snickering hangers-on. Will always succeeds, of course, because despite his shortcomings, heâs the strongest and most specialest boy. Itâs almost like an isekai without the isekai. Too bad we find out that Will is hilariously shredded, which kinda blows a hole in the self-insert aspect.
Goofy shonen-isms aside, thereâs still plenty to enjoy here. Varying types of magic, artifacts, and fantasy races abound, and lore is sprinkled throughout the show in character biographies in the commercial break eyecatches. The story does get gradually less stupid as the season goes on and characters are better fleshed out. And hey, thereâs nothing wrong with watching a really strong dude beat the shit out of monsters and assholes.
The only thing that really kept me coming back to Wistoria was that, plainly, it looks and sounds fucking awesome. Itâs not the best-looking anime I watched this season (that would either be Oshi no Ko or one of the next two anime on this list), but Wistoria takes such a surprisingly cinematic approach to such an uninspiring story that I couldnât help but keep watching. The lighting effects are lush, combat animation is bonkers in its best moments, and the score is pretty darn good too. It definitely takes some big swings at simulating camera movements and perspective shots that donât always accomplish what they set out to do, but I can appreciate the ambition bleeding through. I can see the vision, and thatâs what counts.
The actual content is pretty paint-by-numbers, but Wistoria is well-made enough that itâs worth a shaky recommendation. Maybe just turn your brain off until the action picks up. I've heard the manga gets pretty good from here on out, so I'll probably stick it out for another season.
The Gems
The Elusive Samurai
If youâre not already familiar with this series, do me a favor and watch the OP linked right above. Pretty good character animation, right? Expressive, weighty, plenty of personality. The colors pop like crazy too! A lot of the time, an anime series will heavily stylize its OP to attract eyeballs and YouTube metrics, oftentimes bringing in outside animators and directors for a unique feel. In the case of The Elusive Samurai, I cannot stress enough that all that animation is the standard.
Yes, this show looks exceptional. Even putting aside the fact that itâs historical fiction, this show has a truly timeless look to it that I still struggle to put into words. The Elusive Samurai is clearly a modern production but bears all of the hallmarks of what great animation has always looked like when a studio is willing to invest in it: Colors are so bold and saturated that I want to take a damn bite out of them, backgrounds are painstakingly hand-painted even for brief cuts, and there even seems to be a film grain overlay to really sell the classic feel. Itâs not perfect (Iâll get into that later), but holy shit is it a feast for the eyes.
Adapted from the pages of Weekly Shonen Jump, The Elusive Samurai is a heavily fictionalized retelling of the fallout of the Siege of Kamakura in the 14th Century. Tokiyuki Hojo, left without a family in a bloody coup of the shogunate, is prevented from committing suicide by enigmatic priest Yorishige Suwa and then thrown right back into the fire of the battlefield. Yorishige, who has prophetic visions of the future, foresaw Tokiyukiâs ascent to leadership and wants to see how he fares in battle. Tokiyuki didnât bother with his training as a young master, instead playing elaborate games of hide-and-seek with the Hojo clanâs advisors, so in the face of certain danger, heâs left with no choice but to do what he does best and run the fuck away. And as with evading his training, Tokiyuki realizes that itâs way more fun than actual combat, and the future is suddenly even more clear to Yorishige: Evasion, not bloodthirst, will guide Tokiyukiâs path to revenge.
At Yorishigeâs increasingly unnerving behest, Tokiyuki goes into hiding at Suwa Shrine and begins building a squad to take down the usurper, Takauji Ashikaga. Along with Yorishigeâs daughter, Shizuku, he teams up with young warriors Kojiro and Ayako, and in their travels pick up the crass, kitsune-masked thief Genba and the food-obsessed swordsboy Fubuki. Itâs fine as extended casts go, though we donât get much from a few of them past their introductory arcs. Tokiyuki is an absolute delight, though. Heâs a sweet and joyful kid despite his circumstances; real shonen protag material. And most importantly, heâs completely over Yorishigeâs shit.
Iâm a sucker for magical realism, and The Elusive Samurai delivers. Yorishige really does appear to be a prophet, to the point where he can even predict Dragon Ball Z (yes, really), and he and Shizuku are capable of pulling off acts that any actual person would consider a literal miracle. Mythical beasts roam the land and those that were slain appear to reside on a different realm accessible to the Suwas. All of Takaujiâs top soldiers have senses and abilities far beyond anything human or animal, and Takauji himself seems to have borrowed some of his prowess from the devil himself. With this showâs commitment to top-tier visuals and animation, the sky's the limit for what we can see, and it kept me glued to my TV every episode. It almost made me want to watch Demon Slayer. Almost.
The cast has some solid performances from familiar names and voices: Yuichi Nakamura is his usual blusteringly silly self as Yorishige, Aoi Yuuki is a riot as Genba, and Katsuyuki Konishi (Kamina himself!) infuses Takauji with appropriate menace. Thereâs some Chainsaw Man and Bocchi sprinkled into Tokiyukiâs clan of rookie warriors as well. Good stuff, but what really caught my attention was a surprisingly familiar voice giving life to the bug-eyed villain Sadamune Ogasawara: None other than Yutaka Aoyama, the narrator of Kaguya-sama: Love is War. Nobody could have more perfectly infused Sadamune with the appropriate level of self-serious goofiness than the guy who narrated Kaguya-samaâs balloon game like it was an NFL Film. Perfect casting.
As incredible as this show looks most of the time, the remainder does have a critical issue: CloverWorks didnât seem too invested in hand-animating horses or any of the showâs characters riding them, so it opted instead for CGI. Very poorly-implemented CGI. I really try to take stuff like this as it comes, but the modeling looks way too video-gamey for the style the rest of the show is going for, to the point where Iâm taken out of it. Thereâs really no excuse for something this uncanny with the high bar The Elusive Samurai set for itself early on (and yes, Uzumaki is airing as I write this, and Iâll talk about the similar problem that show has at the end of the year).
I know I just said this about Wind Breaker last year, but this may be CloverWorksâ other Big Shonen Hit. It certainly has the juice, between the wacky gags and shockingly brutal violence, and CGI issues aside, the studio has clearly invested in it. A second season is already on the way, and Iâd say itâs paid off. If the studio can iron out the kinks, this could end up becoming an all-timer.
Makeine: Too Many Losing Heroines!
If I havenât made it clear enough, my anime journey has turned me into a bit of a romcom guy. Couldnât tell you why. Maybe itâs because Tenchi Muyo was a formative anime for me, or maybe itâs because I got on Kaguya-sama relatively early in my return-to-weebdom trek and Iâve been chasing that high ever since. I could go on and on about the ones Iâve watched and which particularly stood out, but weâd be here all day. At the same time, though, a burgeoning market for the genre, particularly among the shonen demographic, means that thereâs gonna be some real slop out there. Plenty of anime, manga, and especially light novels are targeted at the âlonely boy who wishes cute girls would attach themselves to him just because heâs A Nice Guyâ type, and while there are some genuinely excellent series that cater plenty to that kind, thereâs a well-defined line between the good and the trash.
Makeine is well aware of that line and elects to skip rope with it. Genre subversion is at its best when the work in question shows a genuine care for the milieu itâs satirizing, and Too Many Losing Heroines is to trashy light novel romcoms what The Eminence in Shadow is to edgy isekai and Bang Brave Bang Bravern is to vaguely homoerotic mech warfare. Itâll slap you in the face with every dumb threadbare cliche youâve come to expect from the genre, and itâll do so with a smile.
These stories are usually fronted by a total wet noodle and Kazuhiko Nukumizu is the soggiest soba youâve ever seen. His main interests are water fountains and hey, wouldnât you know it, light novel romcoms. As far as heâs concerned, heâs a background character with the personality to match. Heâs thrust to the forefront, though, when heâs caught staring at his classmate, Anna Yanami, embarrassingly picking up the pieces from being brutally rejected at a cafe. She forces herself into Nukumizuâs booth and helps herself to several coursesâ worth of stress-eating on his dime, which he never agreed to. As recompense, Anna decides to cook him lunch until her debt is more or less repaid, and would you look at that, Nukumizu just made a friend!
As the title would suggest, Annaâs not the only lovelorn maiden finding her way into Nukumizuâs school life. Heâs exhorted into joining the schoolâs literature club, where he meets the track runner, Lemon Yakishio, and the lit clubâs stammering stalwart, Chika Komari. He also has to bear witness to each of their own crushes backfiring and deal with the fallout. And amidst this chaos, thereâs plenty of botched confessions, getting locked in storage closets, boob faceplants, and all the other nonsense youâd expect from the genre. And itâs terrific! And in the midst of all this, even as Nukumizu seems to be a passenger in this journey, you see him ever-so-slowly realize that he has some agency and grow closer to these girls. Makeine is plenty silly and more than a little stupid, but thereâs plenty of heart in here as well.
The offbeat character dynamics and clever dialogue are what really make this. Everyone is just refreshingly weird in their own ways. Anna is a complete menace and totally convinced sheâs the protagonist of life, and she may not even be wrong. I almost donât care whether she and Nukumizu get together or not; theyâre such a fun âserious guy/goblin mode girlâ pairing that Iâm not that interested in their dynamic changing. Komari and the lit club VP Koto are a dynamic fujoshi duo, ensuring that the clubâs shenanigans arenât too shonen-centric (and funny enough, Koto has her own idea for an Osamu Dazai isekai). Everyone in the student council has something demonstrably Wrong With Them, the homeroom teacher is a disaster, and the school nurse probably belongs in prison. I love every single one of them. I couldâve done without Nukumizuâs offputtingly-clingy little sister (and learning about her analogue in this seasonâs other romcom LN adaptation, Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian, was enough to put me off of watching it), but it looks like one of her own female classmates is in love with her, so that could be gold in later seasons.
A-1 Pictures, to borrow an industry term, put its entire pussy into this production. As with last yearâs Heavenly Delusion, there was so much love put into the lighting effects, background art, and character animation that I felt like I was watching a Makoto Shinkai film at times. All of those elements working in tandem massaged my brain in such a way that when every episode ended, I was left confused because hey, where the hell is the rest of the movie? Makeine is also loaded with killer visual gags, and I give A-1 a ton of credit for letting those jokes land without calling too much attention to them, unlike a certain other show I watched this season. The opening and endings were real treats, with three different EDs as the season progressed, each depicting one of the titular heroinesâ personal journeys (and performed by each respective girlâs VA, no less). This is some real investment on the studioâs part and it absolutely paid off.
I promise that every time I compare a romcom to Kaguya-sama, it comes at a great inner struggle to prevent myself from doing so, but if that anime is truly over and this is where A-1 is focusing its resources, Makeine may very well be a worthy successor. I really canât say for sure whether this or The Elusive Samurai was the best new anime of the summer season, and it doesnât help that they aired on the same day and Iâd always watch them back-to-back. Just know that theyâre easily two of the better anime Iâve seen this year.
Mayonaka Punch
If âmega-cancelled YouTuber starts up a new channel with a bunch of disaster lesbian vampiresâ isnât enough of a hook for you, I really donât know what else to tell you.
Masaki got kicked off her popular NewTube channel after punching one of her co-hosts, and the internet is letting her hear it. Maybe barging in on the âweâre firing Masakiâ live stream and tackling one of them didnât help either. Rather than film the bog-standard apology video, she figures she can just wing it and start up a solo channel. Masaki decides to start by playing the hits and drunkenly recreate her first channelâs breakout video in a spooky abandoned hospital, and finds more than she bargained for in a vampire named Live (pronounced like itâd be short for Olivia) who really, really wants to drink her blood in particular. Masaki nearly falls to her death in a panic, only for Live to save her and reveal that she has the very filmable ability to fly, so Masaki cuts a deal: If Live can help her get a new channel off the ground, Masaki will let her drink her blood.
This is tremendous content, so Masaki moves in with Live at Banpai Manor along with her vampire roomies to produce a new channel, co-starring the eternal 10-year-old day trader (night trader?) Ichiko, the soft-spoken fujoshi musician Fu, and the heavy-vaping gambling addict Tokage. They name the channel Mayonaka Punch (because mayonaka means âmidnightâ and because Masaki punched the shit out of her former co-host) and quickly get to work trying to beat Masakiâs former channel to their goal of a million subscribers (and a delicious lunch for Live). Even though they try to pass off their vampire shenanigans as Very Good CGI, they run afoul of a vampiric authority figure for exposing their identities, so they have to get internet famous the old fashioned way: Cute Girls Doing Cute Things.
I canât quite put into words what a blast this show is. Mayonaka Punch frequently barrels along at a madcap pace, often punctuated by an electro-swing score, as its cast of loud idiots (and Fu) carom off of one another to chaotic effect. The voice cast really sells it, too: Ikumi Hasegawa (Kita in Bocchi the Rock!, Vladilena in 86, Ăbel in Frieren) owns every ounce of Masakiâs mounting exasperation as she deals with all the vampire nonsense while continuing to avoid the consequences of her own actions. Fairouz Ai continues her MVP-caliber resume for 2024 in style as Live, infusing her with a kind of desperate manic energy as she scratches and claws for Masakiâs approval. This was easily my favorite of her many roles so far this year, and two years removed from Chainsaw Manâs debut, itâs been a treat to hear her once again voicing a feral, bloodsucking loser.
As silly as Mayonaka Punch gets, though, it delivers some serious emotional blows when you least expect them. The fourth episode, centering on Fuâs history, is one of the best of any anime I watched this season. Thereâs also some very interesting history between Live and the head vampireâs go-between, Yuki, that was told through (though partially buried by) a series of video game facsimiles, and I hope thereâs more there someday. And, of course, thereâs Masakiâs evolving relationship with Live, with romantic undertones so tantalizing they might as well be overtones. I really thought there wasnât enough time left in the season to reach a satisfying conclusion, and though it might not have fully reeled in the yuri bait, I was pleasantly surprised at how well everything tied together.
Mayonaka Punchâs ending is open enough that I can only hope it gets a second season, but Iâm not about to hold my breath. Thatâs a tall order for original anime that donât set the world on fire, but this one has all the right pieces for a future cult classic. Liked and subscribed.Â
Suicide Squad Isekai
When this was announced, the only reaction it really got out of me was âSure dude, why not.â As far as what this show is, it does what it says on the tin. Itâs an isekai featuring a motley crew of anti-heroes plucked directly from the David Ayers and James Gunn Suicide Squad films. You already know what youâre in for.
Sure enough, this is a straight up Suicide Squad story from the jump: Harley Quinn and the Joker (the latter sporting yet another heinous makeover) try to pull off a heist, it goes sideways, Harley gets arrested and forced into Amanda Wallerâs scheme to mine rare resources in another world alongside Deadshot, Clayface, Peacemaker, and King Shark. Itâs your standard JRPG-style isekai fantasy world, except the previous Suicide Squad of Enchantress, the Thinker, Ratcatcher, and Killer Croc seem to have run roughshod over tensions between races and kingdoms, leaving Rick Flag alone to pick up the pieces.
And what ensues is pretty much what youâd expect. Everyone looks appropriately anime; Psycho-Pass character designer Akira Amano did especially good work with Harley, to the point where Iâm shocked that a billion-yen idea like âanime Harley Quinnâ was slept on for so long. All of this makes it even funnier that Peacemaker is still very much just John Cena. Character designs aside, Suicide Squad Isekai only seems to look good when it wants to; most of the moment-to-moment stuff looks a bit muted but absolutely pops off when business picks up. Thereâs even a flashback sequence of Deadshot and Ratcatcher that has a sort of loose, crumbly Masaaki Yuasa look to it. Despite the genericism of the setting and inconsistency of the aesthetic, though, Suicide Squad Isekai still carries plenty of style with it. The intro and outro are both blasts; I didnât realize until the season ended that the âTank!â-style OP was by Tomoyasu Hotei, the composer of the most iconic piece of music from Kill Bill. The ED (content warning: Mori Calliope) heavily features Amanda Waller getting down in ways I can only hope to one day see Viola Davis recreate.Â
The fusion of American and Japanese styles is definitely awkward at times; the occasional references to other Warner Bros properties like Lord of the Rings and Tom and Jerry feel particularly shoehorned in considering this is a Japanese production, but the voice cast makes up for a lot of faults. Anna Nagase captures Harleyâs freewheeling energy perfectly, and her penchant for nicknames is extra cute in Japanese when sheâs calling the Joker âPurin-chanâ or King Shark âNana-chan.â Jun Fukuyama is a real standout as Clayface, channeling the flashy spirit of Joker (not this one, the Persona 5 one) to animate Basil Karloâs irritating showmanship. Takehito Koyasu as Peacemaker doesnât quite have the self-serious goofy energy weâve come to expect from the live action version, but itâs such funny casting on its face that I donât really mind. Can this tradeoff go both ways? I want John Cena as DIO yesterday.
For a Studio WIT production and a story by Re:Zeroâs writers, Suicide Squad Isekai may occasionally feel like less than the sum of its parts (par for the course for the propertyâs recent adaptations, unfortunately, save for the Gunn film), but if you donât come at it expecting too much youâll have a good time. Far from my favorite this year, but itâs a crowd pleaser, and those, I like.
#anime reviews#nier automata#oshi no ko#my deer friend nokotan#shikanoko nokonoko koshitantan#isekai shikkaku#no longer allowed in another world#wistoria wand and sword#the elusive samurai#makeine#too many losing heroines!#mayonaka punch#suicide squad isekai
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