#should i keep commenting on the episodes like this while watching it

[itsallaboutbl]

YEEEES!!!! YOU TELL HIM TOP!!!!

[ckret2]

Chapter 68 of human Bill Cipher not looking much like the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he's just vibing on the porch: Mabel's riding high on the success of making Bill two whole friends, Ford's dealing with curses... and let's see how that camera got cursed in the first place.

####

Mabel asked, "What about Aaron Laarson?"

"I don't know," Candy said, "Aaron is cute, but he isn't a very good dancer. That's very important to me in a teen pop idol."

"He's a really good actor, though," Grenda said. "You should see him in Hot Models 2: Runway Boogaloo!" Candy looked thoughtful.

They'd spent the last thirty minutes chattering, with Grenda and Candy sitting on Bill, who was now laying his upper body on the couch cushion he'd been assaulted with earlier but otherwise hadn't moved. To all appearances, Bill was sound asleep—he even breathed like he was asleep—but every once in a while, he'd pipe up with something like, "Don't get too attached to Aaron Laarson. He's dying in a kayaking accident next summer."

Grenda groaned in disappointment. Candy said, "He should have spent that time practicing dancing instead of kayaking."

Mabel caught movement in the corner of her eye, and started when she saw Ford and Dipper. "Uh oh. I didn't expect them to come in on this side of the house."

Across the clearing, Ford shouted, "Mabel, what the devil is he doing outside with—!"

Mabel shouted, "It's okaaay, I got permission from Grunkle Staaan, I love yooou!"

Ford hesitated. "Well... if Stan okayed it."

Dipper looked at Mabel and her camera. Mabel looked at Dipper and his camera. They immediately started making the stupidest faces they could at each other's cameras. "Hey," Mabel said, "did you find the nightwigglies? It looks like they found yooou!"

Dipper self-consciously tugged up the vest he was using like a makeshift skirt. "We did! It was so great, we recorded some kind of ritual dance, how they make babies—" At Grenda's outburst of "Ewww!" he quickly clarified, "Not—not in a gross way—and we saw some kind of Nightwiggler god! It was amazing!"

"Wow! That's great!" Mabel said. "We summoned a demon and almost died."

"What?"

"By the way!" Mabel waved her camera at Ford. "Grunkle Ford, I kiiinda used your cursed camera by accident. Could you please uncurse the tape so I can keep the episode I filmed tonight? Goldie said the magic thingy he stuck on it will only keep it tame as long as the tape's in the camera."

"That's because it's technically the tape itself that's cursed, not the camera." Ford wondered if Bill had led Mabel to the camera.

"Can you uncurse it, though?"

"I think so. I'll see what I can do." Ford took the camera from Mabel. He decided not to comment on the girls' interesting makeup choices.

Bill opened one eye a sliver as he felt Ford and Dipper step on the porch, saw Ford's bare calf over his boot, and cracked up. "What happened to your pants! Did you try to join the Hokey Pokey?"

Ford gave Bill a withering look—caught sight of Bill's mismatched tween-girl-pencil-case/airbrushed-hot-rod eyeshadow, and laughed in surprise. "What happened to your face?"

"Aren't I beautiful?" Bill asked, lacing his hands under his chin (and making Ford snort again when he spied the multiple nail extensions on one hand). "Go on! Tell me I'm beautiful. I know I am."

"You're..." Ford was keenly aware that Mabel and her friends were probably behind this makeover, "...certainly colorful."

"Stanford, you flatterer!" Bill cackled.

Dipper headed inside, yawning. "I'm gonna... go to sleep or something."

That was a good idea; but Ford was hesitant to go in. He was loath to trust Bill unsupervised alone with a couple of vulnerable children, with no one to keep him in check but another child he'd already manipulated into helping him escape once.

But who was Ford to judge. Bill had manipulated him into helping him escape, too. He supposed Mabel could handle him as well as anyone else.

Grenda said, "I think we should watch Hot Models 2 anyway! It's got lots of cute boys! And girls, I guess." She turned to Bill. "Hey, do you like girls or boys?"

"Sometimes," Bill said. "Sure, I'm up for it. It's a pretty good satire of Big Fashion and I like the runway fight scene with the big light show."

To Ford, all Bill seemed to be doing was talking about movies, wearing stupid makeup, and being a chair for a couple of kids. It was so... normal.

It was something a person would do.

Ford made himself go inside. Maybe he'd start work on uncursing that tape for Mabel before he went to bed.

####

Bill had written a magic-negation seal on the back of a crumpled Mystery Shack receipt and attached it to the camcorder with an X of clear tape. Ford had only used that seal twice in his life. Once, thirty years ago, when Bill had taught it to him. And once last fall, when Ford had attempted to draw it in the Book of Bill to prevent its anomalous effects. Bill's book had absorbed the seal into its page until it disappeared—then burped. At least the symbol still seemed to work on the camcorder.

Ford tried to rewind the tape to the beginning; something inside the camcorder caught and made a nasty sound. He grimaced and hit the stop button. That wasn't good. He carefully peeled off the magic-negation seal, popped the cassette tape out of the camera, and examined it. 

He pushed up the cassette's guard panel, but where there should have been a strip of magnetic tape running beneath it, there was nothing. The tape must have snapped. As he tried to inspect the damage, the cassette jumped and rattled in his hand, trying to snap the guard panel shut on his finger like it wanted to bite him.

"Stop that," Ford chided. "I'm trying to repair you." Would it listen? In his experience, objects animated by this particular curse tended to be consistently hostile. He might need to re-seal it.

To his surprise, the tape settled down sedately on his desk. That was more like it.

"Can you unreel the damaged ends of your tape?" If it could, that would save him the effort of disassembling the thing entirely.

After a short pause, the cassette flipped up its guard panel and extended two ends of broken tape.

"Thank you."

It looked like something had... burned? melted the tape? But what? The video cassette's casing was completely undamaged, how had something managed only to burn the tape inside?

Ford snipped off the damaged ends of the tape, used a little strip of masking tape to connect them back together, and carefully rewound the tape a few seconds with a pen. This was only a temporary repair; he'd have to transfer the contents of this cassette to an undamaged one. Mabel would probably want it digitized so she could make her video, too. But watching a few seconds wouldn't destroy it; and he wanted to know whether the camera had recorded whatever damaged the tape.

He carefully removed the smallest of Project Mentem's undamaged monitors, moved it to his worktable, plugged in a VHS-C player, and slid the cassette in.

As he started to play back the recording—the first thing on the screen was one of Mabel's terrified-looking friends—the monitor trembled and jumped, banging heavily as it landed back on Ford's worktable.

"Oh, behave." Ford peeled the magic-negating seal off the camcorder and slapped it on the TV. It immediately stilled. Some gratitude for repairing that tape.

When Ford turned his attention back to the screen, Mabel's friend's face had been replaced by Bill's, his curls filling the edges of the screen.

"Gold-O! You came back!" "Hey, Grend-O. Sorry for the wait..."

As Ford watched, Bill grappled with the camera, eventually managed to get a grip on it, and stared it down with nearly enough fury to make Ford forget the goofy eyeshadow. "Now let's get this straight. Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—you'll have to get through m—"

The scene cut straight to Mabel's face as it skipped over the damaged section he'd had to cut out. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Weee're—"

Ford stopped the tape. Huh.

Huh.

####

As soon as Candy and Grenda were gone, Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you for being nice to my friends," she said. "Especially Grenda. I'm so glad you liked them both after all!"

Liked them? He'd been a charming host to them, but. "Did I?"

"Yes," Mabel informed him firmly. "You did."

Well, he figured he must've, then. And Grenda had grown on him. She'd complimented his eyes, she admired gross things, she had very intelligent opinions on amphibians in general and axolotls in particular... "Hey, any friend of my friend is a friend of mine!"

"That's so much better than what I was trying to say." Mabel let go of him, beaming. "Wanna hang out with them again sometime?"

"Sure!" Bill said, shrugging. "We still have to watch some dumb action comedy movies."

"Great! I'll let them know the next sleepover's over here!" She ran upstairs.

Calling her friends to arrange the next sleepover before they'd even gotten home. Yeah—that was generally how Bill planned his parties, too.

Looked like his social circle for the foreseeable future consisted of three little girls. Wasn't ideal, but he could work with that. He'd always liked getting invited to girls' nights. And maybe at future sleepovers he could talk the kids into some real fun. When they weren't trying to keep quiet, he knew, they fed off each other's chaos. And he was sure there was a budding pyromaniac lurking in Candy's heart.

####

Ford nodded as he passed Stan in the entryway. "Just getting up?"

"Yep. Just going to bed?"

Ford shrugged ruefully. "Afraid so. We got some terrific footage last night, though."

"Oh, yeah? Anything sellable?"

"That's up to Dipper, but I think there's good potential. Bare minimum, I'd bet some cryptozoology documentaries would be interested in his findings."

"Hey, all right! Not bad for a night's work." Stan passed by, headed for the bathroom.

And Ford almost headed on to the guest bedroom—but, reluctantly made himself turn toward the kitchen.

Bill was sitting at the table, sipping at a can of cider with an empty one already on the table in front of him, staring out the window at the morning. He didn't usually drink that heavily this early; it probably meant he was heading to bed soon. The girls must have kept him up all night. Dipper had regaled Ford with tales of what Mabel's sleepovers were like.

"Bill."

"Hm?"

He should have gotten straight to business. Instead, he said, "I watched some of Mabel's video from last night."

Bill glanced over at him. (He still had that ridiculous makeup.) "Oh, yeah?"

Under my protection. Did he consider himself the household's guardian—or its owner? "I..." Ford cleared his throat. "I wondered about—the symbol you painted on your hand to disable the camera. That part of the tape melted, and—I assume it was light-activated, which means it must be different from the seal I already know, so...?"

Bill's face had immediately closed off. He turned away. "You're not my student."

Ford was surprised at how much that felt like a slap to the face. He should have been glad—he'd finally managed to get Bill to agree with what he'd been telling him all summer—but he hadn't expected Bill to ever give up. (He hadn't expected Bill to ever change.)

But he probably hadn't really given up. No doubt he was giving Ford the cold shoulder to see if he begged Bill's forgiveness.

"No. I suppose I'm not." He trudged into the kitchen, rummaged in his coat pocket, and dropped a leather pouch on the table. "Anyway, I'm just here to drop this off."

Bill reached for it, stopped himself, and warily asked, "What is it?"

"The rest of my nutrition pills from my interdimensional travels." When he'd lost his trench coat to the lake during the eclipse last week, he'd had to dig out the old tattered one he'd worn during his travels, and he'd happened to find his pills at the same time. It had occurred to him to bring them up while he was working on Mabel's tape. They were tricky to synthesize, but they lasted forever and the ingredients could be found in almost any dimension—whether there was anything otherwise edible for humans or not. 

Bill eyed him suspiciously; but he opened the pouch's snap and peeked into the resealable plastic bag. They didn't look like "pills" so much as small balls of incredibly dense dark brown bread, each about the size of a wad of bubblegum. "Whyyy?"

"To make up the difference in your diet until we figure out the food problem," Ford said. "They're formulated so that four a day meets a human's... well, meets my nutritional needs. I haven't looked into your..." vague gesture, "body... type."

"Is this your emergency stash?"

"It... was." Stan had persuaded Ford to get back onto normal food (as much of a waste of time as it was), but he still had this stash left.

"Why are you giving me your emergency stash."

"Because... I'm not having an emergency and you are?" It was better than a couple of avocados and some hot sauce. Honestly, he should have thought to go looking for his nutrition pills weeks ago. If he'd realized just how severe they'd made Bill's situation... or how stubborn Bill would be about asking for help... or that they'd ever plan to keep Bill around long enough that his nutrition would be an issue.

Bill squinted at him, and for a moment Ford thought he was about to start a fight for some insane reason; but then the air seemed to leak out of him, his shoulders sagged, and he just looked at the nutrition pills. "For starters, they'll need more than twice as much iron."

"That much?"

"And more vitamin D, I don't remember the numbers right now." He shut the pouch, sat back, and lifted his cider can again. "All right."

All right? Ford supposed that was all he was getting. He turned to go.

As he did, Bill said, "Bed?"

Ford glanced back. "Yes?"

"Fine," Bill said. "Have nightmares."

He couldn't help letting out a laugh. "Fine. You too."

"It's too late for you to start trying to sweet-talk me like that, Stanford Pines!" But he tilted his can toward Ford—cheers—chugged down the rest, and cracked open a third.

####

Dipper was already in bed when Mabel charged in. He rolled over slightly, saw she was still in her sleepover pajamas, and mumbled, "Going to sleep too?"

She rummaged around in the closet by the door. "I can't waste that kind of time!" She retrieved a shoe box full of the wooden models of the townspeople she'd crudely whittled last summer at a library arts & crafts program run by Wendy's dad. She dumped them out on the floor, and, for lack of a figure representing Bill, tore a corner off a stray sheet of notebook paper and drew his eye on it. "I've got to capitalize on last night's success!"

She snatched her pyramid prism off the windowsill and taped the paper eye on it. "Hey, you." She poked Bartholomew's cradle. "Why were you a big chicken in front of my friends?"

"What, with you waving that camera around?" Bartholomew said. "I didn't want it to know I have a soul to steal."

"You knew?! You jerk!" She gave the cradle a harder poke, rocking it slightly.

Dipper yawned. "Capitalize on what success? The demon summoning?"

"No! Helping Bill make two new friends!" Mabel sat on the floor, plopped the Bill prism down amidst the other wooden figures, and started setting them upright. Waddles waddled over to sniff at them.

"Oh." Dipper groaned and rolled back over.

"The next stage of his rehabilitation is expanding his social circle. Get him some normal friends that don't want to eat people or destroy moons or whatever!" She grabbed up the notebook paper again, tore it into sections, and wrote on each with the nearest gel pen: "Friends!!!" "Maybe" "NO" "Healthy ☆ Rivals" "♡ Potential dates? ♡" She added thoughtfully, "And maybe get him a love life. We had to chase off his last girlfriend."

Dipper groaned louder. "I don't wanna think about Bill dating. That dumb eye-bat was bad enough."

"She's not dumb, she's into avant-garde experimental films. And she watches them with subtitles. Bill said so." She placed her, Grenda's, and Candy's figures in the Friends section, tentatively placed Dipper halfway between Maybe and No after checking to make sure he wasn't watching, and then started scanning her collection for more likely friends. "Who in town do you think would date Bill Cipher?"

"Nobody. Everyone hates him."

She stuck Wendy and her gang in the "Friends!!!" section, she thought they were a safe bet. "Who do you think would date Bill if they don't know he's Bill?"

"Nobody." Dipper pulled his blanket over his head.

"Pbbt, don't be so negative! You've gotta believe in him." Blubs and Durland? They were probably his friends, right? She sorted them accordingly and added Lazy Susan to the "Maybe" section. "Just you watch. I'll have Bill reintegrated into society before the end of the summer!"

Mabel had picked out several more prospective friends for Bill before Dipper sighed, rolled over again, and said, "Why do you have to make friends for Bill?"

"Bro. Come on. When he's left to his own devices, he keeps talking about pulling people's veins out of their bodies or telling them secret information about their own childhoods. He's probably talking about something creepy right now."

####

"I'm telling you," Bill said, gesticulating emphatically with a cider can. "It works. Your cousins will never argue with you again, and you guarantee they'll be with you forever! It's the perfect way to permanently resolve family disputes!"

"I can see your logic," Stan said, grimacing. "However. I'm not eating my cousins."

"Not all your cousins," Bill insisted. "Just one, to send a message. You don't even need to eat the whole guy! Just half a limb or so. If you want to look like the bigger man, you can even let him choose which one."

Looking faintly nauseous, Stan shoved over his unfinished eggs and pancakes and stood. "What the heck was your home life like?"

"Oh, it was terrific. I was the family golden child." Bill dug into Stan's eggs. "I was everything your family hoped you'd be and was disappointed you weren't!" 

"Was that before or after you started eating your cousins?"

"I didn't say I did it. That's your species' thing." Bill said, with a lofty tone that suggested moral superiority, "We'reinedible."

"Ha!" Stan shook his head. "You talk a big game for a guy who's never eaten one family member!"

Bill snapped the tab off his cider can and flipped it at Stan's head.

####

"He's delightful, but he's an acquired taste," Mabel said. "He just needs somebody else to help mediate when he meets new people! Like letting two cats sniff each other under the door!"

"Okay, but why you?"

She thought about that, staring at the pyramid representing Bill; then she shrugged. "Somebody has to."

"They really don't."

"Somebody should," Mabel insisted. "I just really want to see him make friends with everybody here. It's like... making it up to the town for hurting them last year."

"I think leaving them alone would work better. After what he did, he doesn't deserve to be friends with anyone in town—"

"It's important to me, okay?" Mabel snapped. "It just is."

What was that for? Did she think he was criticizing her for befriending him? He mumbled, "I didn't mean you."

She was quiet a moment. "I know." 

"Sorry." Dipper was too tired for this conversation; he was just sticking his foot in his mouth. He yawned, muttered, "Good luck scheduling him a playdate, I guess," and rolled over.

####

After sleep and lunch, Ford returned to his study, set up a second blank video cassette to copy the damaged one's data, carefully rewound the damaged one all the way to the beginning, and watched it for the first time in over thirty years.

The recording was grainy and distorted now. It looked so old. This technology had been brand new when Ford had bought his video camera—so new that he'd had to order it from overseas, it hadn't been available in the United States yet. How quickly things changed.

The camera turned to take in Ford's own, younger, beaming face. "This is Dr. Stanford Pines, with the first of what will hopefully be many video recordings of the oddities in Gravity Falls." (In the present, Ford snorted.) "The subject of this first video is a series of magic symbols that, when combined, can animate inanimate objects. Any inanimate object."

He turned the camera around. Like a vampire's morbid pulpit, one of Ford's journals was laid open atop the lid of a black casket. Two heavy chains were laid across each side of the book and locked around the casket's handles to keep them tightly secured. A couple dozen pages in the middle of the book had been left free of the chains, but were pinned down by a cinderblock.

All the security measures were clearly needed; the book was thrashing in its restraints strongly enough to make the casket lid rattle. The visible text writhed across the journal's pages, words and symbols appearing and disappearing in the margins. The susurrations of the pages rubbing against each other sounded like the hissing of a trapped animal.

Ford tipped the cinderblock off the journal and pinned the pages down with his shoe instead. "Several days ago, a local director taught me the spell he used to animate clay figures for his movies. I'd thought perhaps he was creating golems, but aside from the superficial similarity of writing symbols to animate figures of mud, there doesn't seem to be any similarity between his ritual and any golem folklore I've ever heard. Furthermore, his creations are intelligent, capable of speech, and seem to remain loyal to their creator simply out of a passion for acting and respect for his directorial talents rather than any sort of magically-compelled loyalty." A wry note entered his voice. "And I can confirm that the spell itself certainly doesn't impart any loyalty."

 The page below his foot erased itself and replaced the text with large, angry text: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO EARN MY LOYALTY?! YOU DOG EAR MY PAGES! YOU USE ME AS A CHOPPING BOARD!"

"Wh—! Who do you think you are, a Sefer Torah?! Don't be so precious! You're made of faux leather and craft paper, I'll dog ear you all I want!" Ford snapped. "And I already apologized for the chopping board thing!"

The journal stopped moving. "My cover isn't real leather?"

"On my budget?! The closest you've ever come to real cow hide is visiting the Sprott farm!"

While the journal was stunned silent, Ford scooted his foot aside so the camcorder could see a symbol on the opposite page—one of the few bits of ink that didn't seem to shift around the journal's pages. "This is the symbol the director taught me. But it's only supposed to work if you perform an accompanying ritual to activate and power it, which I haven't." He reached down with a gloved hand to flip the loose pages over, then pinned them again under his shoe to let him record another symbol. "This symbol is supposed to power magical artifacts. I suspect writing both these sigils together in the same book has caused them to interact in unexpected ways. But, by themselves, these two are insufficient to bring a book to life—I experimented by copying them both into Journal 1—so perhaps some of the other symbols or spells written in Journal 2 are contributing to—"

"WHAT?!" Journal 2 angrily scrawled around the perimeter of the second symbol. "You tried to bring that teacher's pet to life?! What's wrong with ME!"

"You mean, besides your completely uncooperative attitude, reckless abuse of magic, and murder attempts?" Ford ignored the journal's angry "shouting" as he went on, "But until I figure out what the other symbols are, my... anonymous informant on the occult—"

"You don't mean Creature #326? Tell me it's not Creature #326!"

"—has taught me a sigil that should be able to reverse the effects of the animation spell—"

A series of magical sigils flashed across the journal's page and were quickly replaced by "HA-HA-HA!" The camera shuddered.

"What was that?!" Ford set the camera on the casket where it could watch as he tried to pin down Journal 2's fluttering pages and write on it. "We'll see who's laughing in a minute, you— Stop erasing what I write!" Ford tugged out a sticky note that had been serving as bookmark, hastily scribbled on it, and slapped it into the journal. "Ha!"

The book immediately fell still.

Ford grabbed up a tape dispenser from the floor, pulled off a short strip, and attached the sticky note more securely to the page. "Well. That was effective." He flipped through the journal. "Furthermore, it looks like all the changes Journal 2 made to itself have been reverted. Good. It defaced a lot of data I'd hate to have to reproduce..." As he spoke, the camera slowly rose into the air.

He turned to pick it up, flinched, and quickly got to his feet. "Oh! Uh. Hello."

"Hello," the camera echoed in Ford's voice.

"How did you...?" Ford smacked his forehead, eyes wide with amazement! "Of course! My recording! The symbols my journal wrote! This is fascinating. Recording the symbols on magnetic tape must be just as effective as writing them on paper, even if the symbols aren't visible without specialized equipment. I'll have to experiment with other methods of... of..." Ford petered off as the camera slowly floated higher. He held out a hand hopefully. "Please come back?"

"No," the camera said. "Please give me your soul."

"No." Ford took a deep breath, set Journal 2 on the casket, and flexed his fingers. "Okay. Let's do this again."

As the Ford of thirty-odd years ago wrestled with the camera on the TV screen, the much older Ford sighed. That had been fun. Exploring the bizarre and aberrant had still been fun, back then. That thought disconcerted him; was it no longer fun now? He supposed it still was to an extent. He was just worse at having fun. Harder to dazzle.

He wondered why Journal 2 had been so wary of Creature #326. Bill. It had been right, he was Ford's "anonymous informant"—Ford had told him about his hostile new living journal in a dream, and after Bill had finished laughing, he'd taught Ford how to counteract the spell activating it.

But how did it know?

Could it have warned him about Bill?

Ford would never find out now.

The TV went dark as, in the recording, Ford trapped the camera inside a box. Slightly muffled, Ford said, "Try getting out of that!" Under his breath, he muttered, "I think I prefer writing over narrating anyway."

The screen remained dark for another ten seconds as the camera bumped around and muttered to itself. And then it abruptly cut to a shot of Dipper's bed. Off-screen, Mabel's voice said, "Awesome, still works!" She set the camera on the table under the kids' window—

That was what Ford was looking for. He rewound several seconds and began transferring the recording of Mabel's sleepover onto a fresh tape he'd prepared earlier.

After that, maybe he'd go back to the start again so he could see the other symbols Journal 2 had flashed at the camera and copy them into Journal 5—onto a page already prepared with the magic-negating seal.

####

In the Nightmare Realm, a red book with a golden handprint on the cover boldly labeled "2" floated alone in the void, as it had since it had been tossed in the bottomless pit a year ago.

Its tattered pages were splayed open as it drifted weightlessly through the aether.

On one page near the center of the book, a sticky note with a seal drawn on it was attached to the page with a strip of tape, and surrounded by a warning never to erase the symbol on the sticky note.

The tape had lost its stick after decades buried outdoors; it stuck to the sticky note, but not to the book. The sticky note was barely holding on by a corner.

And as the book slowly wheeled through the void, the last corner peeled off, and the sticky note fluttered away.

Journal 2's pages rustled.

####

(I think y'all who have been keeping up with my posts about this fic know exactly what's coming next. 😎

Thaaat's right. 😎😎

An unrelated flashback chapter!!!

Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, let me know what you think!)

[azrielbrainrot]

Hot Blooded

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Cuddle for Warmth

Description: You and Eris have to keep each other warm when you find yourselves stuck in a cabin during a snow storm.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, vaginal sex, riding, dirty talk

Word Count: ~2,4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This was initially supposed to be a temperature play focused story but it turned into this instead, I hope that's okay!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Walking into a small cabin in the middle of nowhere after being stuck in the snow for hours only to find all of the windows were broken and there were holes in the ceiling felt like a cruel joke. If you were alone you might have even cried at how frustrated you felt. You were beyond freezing, the wet clothes you wore only making it worse, and exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Just as you were preparing yourself to walk back out and brave the storm, Eris closes the door behind him and makes his way to the middle of the room, studying his surroundings. There really wasn't much to see, just an old couch missing most of its pillows and broken pieces of wood. If you gathered them it might have been enough to start a fire, especially with his powers, but since the windows couldn't keep the wind out there would be no use in even trying.

“Eris,” you call out, waiting for the Autumn Court heir to look up at you, “We can't stay here.”

“Why not?”

He asks so dismissively that it takes you a few moments to recover. In the meantime he keeps pacing around the room, picking up a blanket that looked like it was hanging on by a thread. Maybe the cold was messing with his brain or something.

“I'm not made of fire. I will freeze to death,” you explain slowly as if you were talking to a child.

“I can't keep a fire going in here either,” he continues your line of thought, at least letting you know the cold wasn't affecting his thinking skills, “but we can't keep going until the snow storm slows down.”

A defeated sigh escapes you. While it was true that going back out there was out of the question since it was only a matter of time before your body gave out, staying here wasn't much better, you can already feel your body getting colder from standing still.

“Are you sure you can't winnow out?” You already knew the answer, your own power being denied to you, but you can't help asking just to make sure.

“Yes, I can barely access my powers as is,” he responds, sighing like you were a petulant child, “Whatever ward was set around this place is extremely powerful.”

“I thought you were supposed to be extremely powerful too,” you bite back.

Eris simply rolls his eyes, not even attempting to argue with you. This meant he had to be even more exhausted than you initially thought, or he wouldn't have let you get away with that comment. You watch as he throws the old blanket he found to a corner, the one where the air coming from the broken windows didn't hit as intensely, surprising you even more when he takes off his thick jacket right after.

“What are you doing?”

“This blanket won't be too much help in this situation,” he says as if it explained why he was taking his clothes off in the middle of a snow storm.

“Then why are you stripping? That's going to make it worse.” You move closer to him, raising your hands, debating if you should stop him from unbuttoning his shirt during what had to be some sort of manic episode.

“Our best bet right now is keeping each other warm through our body heat,” he starts, watching your face go through a myriad of emotions with amusement, “Like you said, my body is made of fire so to speak. I'll keep you warm.”

This made sense, you knew that, in fact you were a bit ashamed you didn't immediately think of it, but as he takes off his shirt slowly your thoughts scatter. By the time you manage to get your body to start moving, Eris had already stripped down to his underwear, placed his damp clothes over the couch to hopefully dry, and sat on the corner, covering himself with the blanket.

He looks up at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly when you simply stare back. “I don't want to rush you, sweetheart, but if you don't hurry we will actually freeze to death.”

Swallowing and averting your eyes, you reach for your jacket, taking it off and placing it next to the rest of his clothes. You can't help but hesitate as you hold onto the hem of your shirt, unable to ignore the amber eyes burning into you.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper.

“Seriously?” He asks with a chuckle, complying with your request all the same, eyes already closed when he adds, “Didn't take you to be this shy.”

You usually weren't, definitely wouldn't be when it came to a situation concerning life or death such as this one, but the mostly naked person in front of you was Eris, the infuriatingly beautiful male who could get under your skin like no one else.

The moment his shirt started coming off, you were reminded of a party a few years ago, where both of you had gotten lost in your drinks and shitty lives and forgot that you were supposed to hate each other, making out right outside the bar. No matter how many years passed you still could feel his warm hands holding onto your waist, lifting you up against the wall, and the taste of his lips on yours.

Dropping the rest of your clothes over the couch, you move to him, the shivers running up and down your body not all caused by the icy wind whistling through the windows. Lingering in front of him for only a second before turning around and sitting in his lap, trying not to think about the fact that his bare skin was pressed against yours.

His hands fall on your waist as soon as he feels you in front of him, helping you get settled in silence, but he only opens his eyes after the blanket is draped over your body.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were both reminded of that same night, and maybe of all the others where a simple word or touch could have triggered the same reaction. You were getting warmer already without the cold clothes clinging to you, and while you hadn't meant it literally, it did feel like his body was made of fire as your cold skin lay against his chest. You don't know if he was using his magic to warm himself up further but it was making you melt into him.

“We shouldn't have come without backup,” you whisper, adjusting so you weren't leaning on his shoulder so much, the silence between you making you far too aware of your position. In truth, you barely remembered why you were there in the first place at this point, but you needed to say something.

“There was no one else I could trust,” he says, one of his arms wrapping around your middle, chest rumbling against your back as he spoke, “at least we know for certain something is hiding here or there wouldn't be any need for such a barrier in the middle of the mountain.”

You hum in response, not knowing what else to say, trying to sit up straighter again when you feel him tense up against you and his hold on your body tightening. At first you thought you could have hurt him, but when he doesn't say anything else or move again, you turn your head around in question, only feeling something poking against your backside when you meet his amber eyes.

“You need to stop moving,” he murmurs, half lidded eyes staring back into yours.

Swallowing around a dry throat, you turn back around, staring into the furthest wall and trying your best to distract yourself, counting down the seconds and imagining yourself sitting at a chair instead of on the lap of Eris fucking Vanserra. Trying to remember why you ever hated him in the first place, replaying in your head all the times you annoyed each other, all the petty fights and vile words you spit at each other. Your efforts are all in vain though, a different kind of heat manifesting itself in the pit of your stomach, especially as you're also reminded of all the times he was there for you, of the reason you had come to the middle of nowhere at his request with no questions asked.

A curse escapes him, head falling back to hit the wall behind you as both his and your scents start thickening, to the point even the icy wind circulating around the room couldn't mask it. You can't be sure what was going through his head, but you can almost hear his control snapping before he lays his hand over your stomach, pulling you closer into him, warm palm sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Eris,” you whisper, whether telling him to stop or keep going you weren't sure.

He shushes you, lips finding the side of your neck at the same time his hand moves lower, quickly finding the hem of your panties, warm fingers moving side to side just above it, making you tremble as they awaken your frostbitten skin. “We have to wait until the storm settles anyway. Why don't we make up for some lost time?”

“Lost time?” Eris hums behind you, the vibration rumbling under your skin.

“Haven't been able to stop thinking about that night even after all this time,” he starts, hand moving under your panties, quickly finding your clit and rolling it between his fingers, purring at the little noises escaping you. “If we hadn't been interrupted I would have fucked you right there.” He throws one of your legs over his so he could spread your thighs more, inserting a finger into you slowly as his other hand moves under your bra, teasing your nipple softly. “Fuck, I've been thinking about this ever since I first layed eyes on you.”

Your moans rise in tempo as he fucks you slowly, warming you up from the inside. Part of you was convinced you had actually fainted in the snow and were simply stuck in a weirdly realistic dream, but this wouldn't have been the first time he showed up in your dreams and they never felt quite like this.

His warm hands felt heavenly against your still too cold body, and the little kisses and bites he was leaving around your neck were driving you absolutely insane. You were also not surprised that even in this situation he couldn't keep his smart mouth shut, the sinful words he whispered in your ear only sending you further into madness, hips moving into his hand, grinding back into his hard cock at the same time.

A familiar knot starts coiling itself deep inside you, a whine of his name escaping before you reach for his hand and stop him. Just as he freezes and goes to ask what was wrong, you turn in his arms, kissing him before he has the chance to. You'd been craving his touch for so long that you wanted to do this properly, needed to see him and touch him, needed to taste him again.

He kisses you back immediately, hands falling to your waist as you straddle him, one hand reaching between your bodies to find his hard cock, swallowing the moan he lets out, both uncaring of the blanket falling around you.

The way he was fucking up into your hand, his own gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, almost makes you want to watch him fall apart under you like this, but you needed him too much, the same frenzy you had felt that night all those years ago returning, except you couldn't blame the alcohol this time.

You lift your hips and line his cock with your entrance as he pushes your panties to the side, staring into each other's eyes as you slowly lower yourself on him, moaning out at how deliciously he stretches you out.

Pulling you back down for a kiss, he starts guiding your hips up and down his cock, your hands getting lost in his silky hair, grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage, nails biting into his skin as pleasure overtakes all your senses. You couldn't even feel the cold against your heated skin, it could have started snowing inside the house and you probably wouldn't have stopped.

He was right you needed to make up for lost time, you can't believe you've been missing out in this, on him. Eris pulls away so he can watch you, blown out eyes staring into yours like he could find salvation in your gaze.

“Don't stop, doll.” You moan out at the pet name, at his deep voice begging you to keep going. “Need to feel you cum around my cock.”

As much as you usually hate taking orders from him, this one you were more than happy to follow, speeding despite the way your muscles ached, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure, in the feeling of his warm skin against yours, in the way his teeth sank into your skin as he chased his own high.

It crashes over you, taking your breath away as you both cling on to each other, curses and moans of his name escaping your lips, grinding into him until sensitivity has you trembling. He pulls you in for another kiss, savoring each other's taste and warmth, leaning his forehead against yours as he whispers, “I'm not letting you get away this time.”

You let out a sigh, pecking his lips again, eyes fluttering open, leaning back so you can watch him. One of your hands reaches to cup his cheek, the vulnerability in his eyes almost taking your breath away. Eris Vanserra always wore a mask, a cruel and twisted mask that had been meticulously crafted over the centuries, and as much as you've caught glimpses behind it, you had never seen him so open.

“I'm not going anywhere, Eris,” you promise, letting him kiss you again.

You spend the rest of the night cuddling under that blanket, so wrapped up in whispered confessions and sweet promises that neither of you notices the snow had stopped falling and the first rays of sunrise were already filtering in through the clouds.

[luuknowsbetter]

RIDE. Bucky Barnes x reader

plot; You tease Bucky about riding him, but he takes it seriously.

trope; Bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings; smut. Inappropriate Language. and sex, a LOT of sex

I was lying on the sofa in the living room with Alpine on my lap, while watching an episode of Friends on TV, when suddenly I heard things being moved from the cupboard in the kitchen, I leaned over to see what it was about and I saw Bucky took out a glass to drink a whiskey, I shouted "make me one too babe!" and I settled down on the couch again. Bucky arrived within a few minutes, with two drinks in his hands, and sat next to me, handing me the glass, I thanked him with a soft kiss on the cheek and he put his arm around my shoulder,-

-What are we watching? -He asked, looking at the screen,

-Friends- I answered, without taking my eyes off the TV where Ross was covered in talcum powder from head to toe with his pants down while he was on a call with Joey. I laughed while watching the episode. Bucky smiled sideways when he heard me laugh, and placed his hand on my thigh, caressing it gently. I looked down at his hand and bit my lip slightly. Apparently he noticed because the next thing he did was start placing wet kisses on my neck. and my face, I gave a little chuckle and he pulled away with a little smile

-What? He asks smiling, not understanding what was happening.

-I think Alpine doesn't like this- I mention, and Bucky looks down at my lap to see the cat with a very unfriendly face, I laugh and pick her up to put her on the floor.

Bucky gives me a flirtatious look as he repositions his hand on my thigh. "Should we continue doll?" he asked with a smirk. We started kissing again, but this time it was more romantic. A few seconds later we separated in search of air.

-Are you okay doll? -He asks, caressing my face gently, and tucking my hair behind my ear. -Oh yes, just thinking about riding your face- I say with a light ironic laugh, he looks at me surprised, but he lets out a chuckle, denying it slightly. that sentence hits him, hard- his entire demeanor changes instantly into one full of cocky overconfidence- and he’s clearly trying to compose himself

-Oh yeah? he asks, voice low- think you can handle it?- he asks, voice low and rough. I chuckle at his comment

-I think so...- i lick my lips and I can see how his eyes darken once he sees me do this, he grins, eyes sparkling with playful mischief

-Come here then, doll. I approach, positioning myself on his lap with my legs on either side, he laughs, denying -No, doll…-I look at him with a raised eyebrow-ride my face, pretty girl...

Bucky sits on the floor to begin spreading kisses that go from my ankles to my inner thighs, where we made eye contact while he took off my small sports shorts and begins to kiss my intimate area above my panties. I let out a soft moan when I feel his kisses there, and I accidentally look away, causing Bucky to grab my face with his metal arm, forcing me to see him. -Keep your eyes on me, princess.

he says with a somewhat flirtatious tone, I nod and he immediately tears off my panties, tearing them on the spot, I let out a loud moan at the suddenness, James smiles maliciously when he hears me and bites his lip. seeing myself so vulnerable before him. Suddenly, Bucky picks me up in his arms, carries me on his shoulder

and he runs to the stairs where he takes me to our room, he gently leaves me on the bed and kisses me again, this time I have control and put him to bed. We both look at each other while I'm on top of him, and Bucky nods in approval, and I would even say a little excited.

I position myself over his mouth but without letting all my weight fall on him, so he begins to leave wet kisses all over my pussy, I let out small, low moans, his tongue is doing magic and I am enjoying the moment. until he stops, I open my mouth in protest and look down at my boyfriend, the soldier smirks and grabs my hips harder as he looks at me. -doll…when I tell you that You sit on my face, I mean it, don't just lean on it. fucking sit on it, sit like a chair. -I am surprised by his words, and possibly, at this point, I am totally blushing

-b-but I don't want to drown you- he interrupts me without letting me finish. -Don't ask if I can breathe, you sit down, and he lets me eat my lady's pussy.

I finally do what he asks, although a little unsure of it, but the moment I felt him directly inside me, licking and sucking my clit, god… I just couldn't stop moaning and moving back and forth. James continued licking and sometimes moaned which made me squirm with pleasure, until I couldn't take it anymore and finally I came all over his face. I got up from him quickly, totally embarrassed by it, Bucky had my juices all over his face, I covered my mouth with my hands -sorry! Seriously forgive me love, I didn't mean to- he laughs and kisses my forehead sweetly. -It's okay doll, I love it…" he says smiling softly, brushing the hair from my face to see me better.

-oh really? I mean, I stained everything, I really - he denies again -doll, this is an act of pure love from you towards me, the fact that you came for me means that you love me…or that I'm really good at it -he says something flirtatious, causing a blush on my part and making me hit his arm gently.

"I love you, princess…" he whispers -I love you more, soldier.

HELLO

okay so this is my 1st time writing smut so

i hope it was good

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 || joel miller x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 || joel wasn't looking for a follower, or a protégé, or an employee— whatever you're supposed to be— when he saved some dumbass kid from a couple runners. but he ended up with you anyways, and you swore to always be faithful to him... in every way.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 || 9.2k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 || smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, very slight dacryphilia kinda?, a touch of degradation and dumbification in there, and virginity loss with some pain and one mention of blood), heavy age gap (not specified but the reader is absolutely an adult), insecure crybaby reader, unrequited love/pining, reader wants to fuck joel so bad it makes her look stupid (and we love that for her cause same), angst, tess getting kinda screwed over but only because it's absolutely necessary for the plot, emotionally repressed joel, mention of reader's parents being deceased (implied to be infected)

this fic does not contain spoilers for anything but minor details from episode one!

They were doing that thing again— where they talked in front of you, as if you weren’t there.

“So we make the run tonight,” Tess decided, standing while Joel sat on the worn-out sofa with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees.  “We should be back by four, that’s when the FEDRA boys have their shift change, so we can avoid too much risk of getting caught.”

“What should I do?” you piped up.  They both looked at you with that oh yeah, she’s here glare and Tess sighed; she didn’t try very hard to hide her frustration with you, but at the same time, she was actually nice to you when she was in a good mood (which was rare).  Joel was less mean but also less nice— he stayed steady in his neutral-to-mildly-irritated state, and you figured if he wanted you to fuck off, he would’ve said so (probably in those exact words, too).

At the same time, they both instructed you flatly: “Keep watch.”

You sighed, shoulders sinking.  “Again?  Can’t I at least—?”

“You’re safer here,” Joel insisted.

“Yeah, and your gun is safer in the box under the bed, but it’s not gonna do shit to protect you if you never take it out,” you countered.

Tess scoffed.  “And what are you gonna do to protect us?”

“I wasn’t,” you admitted.  “You know I’m a great shot, but I wasn’t gonna try to shoot anybody.  I’m quieter than both of you.  I can get in and out better— and nobody’s looking for me.  Everybody knows you’re smuggling—”

“Not everybody,” Joel defended himself in a mumble.

“ — so if I do get caught, I can probably get out of a search,” you bargained.

“And what are you gonna do to get out of a search?” Tess smirked.  “Bat your eyelashes?”

That did sting, but you rolled your eyes and hoped you had effectively looked like it didn’t affect you at all.  “If implying that I’m pretty enough to get out of a search is supposed to be an insult, I can’t wait to hear one of your compliments, Tess,” you replied— but your voice was soft and almost shaky, not as confident as the comeback merited.  That summarized you pretty well: you had the will to be tough, but when it was time to really go for it, your body failed you and your hands got shaky and your eyes watered.  Almost anything could make you cry, Tess had already made fun of you for it; Joel just seemed to get really uncomfortable when you started crying, but you always did your best to hide it from him.  It just didn’t usually work.

Your whole face probably lit up when you caught Joel’s suppressed smile— did he think your joke was funny?  He hadn’t been smiling when Tess made fun of you, so it had to be what you said— or maybe he was thinking of something he would say if he cared enough to say it, some comment about how you could do more than that to get out of being searched.  He didn’t seem the type to make comments like that, but he was well aware what guards might let (or make) a girl do to avoid punishment.

“Whatever,” Tess decided, shaking her head, “you’re not coming with us, that’s the point.”

“Joel gets a say, too!” you blurted out.  “You can’t just pick for him that I’m not coming, he has to—”

“You’ll stay here,” he interrupted.  So much for getting Joel to let you go— you thought maybe he would side with you, for once.  Deflating, you nodded, and they stopped paying attention to you at the same time that you stopped paying attention to them.

Your mind wandered in times like this, when they were talking and it was clear that it didn’t concern you; Tess said once that you had an ‘overactive imagination’, but she hadn’t said it in a really mean way (like she said most things).  You didn’t want Joel to think that you were always daydreaming, but you couldn’t help it sometimes— you really just hoped that he didn’t know he was the subject of so many of your thoughts.

Truth was, he’d caught your eye long before he even knew you existed.  You’d seen him around, doing all those odd jobs he did to make ends meet, and thought he was… well, handsome, but not just that.  Mysterious.  Intimidating, though he didn’t exactly intimidate you— okay, he did, but not like he did everybody else.  He intimidated others because they were afraid he would hurt them; he intimidated you because you kind of wanted him to hurt you.  Not, you know, bad, just… maybe a hand around the neck or pinning you to a wall or something?

It wasn’t in spite of your inexperience that you had thoughts like that— it was because of it; you had been lonely for a long, long time, and maybe it was just fantasy, but you always wanted someone like Joel.  You wanted someone to take care of you, protect you.  You were just guessing that he was capable of that, but he proved it when you met for the first time.

It wasn’t exactly a meet-cute, or even just a pleasant way to meet; you were short on rations, because you’d given most of yours away to Mrs. Davis who was too old and weak now to earn any extra for herself, and someone offered to pay you ten if you snuck something they could sell out of the old mall in the QZ… well, that went about as poorly as anyone would’ve expected.

You asked Joel what he was doing there, after he’d saved you from the runners, but he refused to tell you.  Either way, it was the best luck you ever had that he showed up and fought them off.  For a moment, he’d held you close to him as he pulled you away from the Infected; you wished, later, that you hadn’t been too terrified to appreciate that.

Ever since, you’d sworn yourself to him— in more ways than one, but he only knew about the main one: you wanted to assist him however you could, figuring after he saved your life that you should dedicate it to his service.  Well, Joel had never been interested in your assistance, or anything else about you.  It was actually Tess' idea to let you stay: "if she wants to help, let her do it for free," she whispered to Joel, and he shrugged, and he did.  That was how it ended up like this: you were the squeaky, wobbly third wheel of Joel and Tess’ operation, more often than not doing the least important work if not filling your time with essentially goose-chase tasks they invented to keep you occupied.  Keep watch and listen to the radio were your biggest assignments; just wait here was another common one, when they were too lazy to call it one of the other two.

Tess left a little while later, and Joel laid down on the sofa.  You broke away from your thoughts and tried to make yourself useful— you got up to rinse the dishes, humming a random tune to yourself as you worked.  You were already back inside your head, wondering if you should tell Joel it was a song you’d heard on his radio and had stuck in your head ever since.  Probably not worth it; it usually didn’t go well when you tried to talk about things like that.  Joel and Tess talked about before a lot— well, it wasn't that often, because it wasn't very productive to talk about it.  But they talked about it occasionally and you never had anything to say.  Once, you tried to weigh in: they were reminiscing on concerts before the outbreak, bands and artists they remembered, and you chirped about how "I read about that in a book once!"

They both glared at you, and you didn't say anything else.  But you didn’t take it too personally, they just didn’t want to feel old— but you didn’t think either of them were old!  These days, old wasn’t a matter of years, it was really just about usefulness— like poor Mrs. Davis, she was old, she couldn’t do much for herself anymore— and they were both… actually, they were both significantly more useful than you.  That made you sad.  But at least Joel had helped you get better with guns— not that he ever let you carry one. 

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Joel broke the silence as you washed his favorite mug.

“I know,” you said back, voice light and chipper.  “You don’t have to.”

You felt his eyes linger on you for a moment after that, but he didn’t say anything else.

~

Though they had decided already that you weren’t joining them on the run, you ended up there— mostly by happenstance— when Joel and Tess met with the buyer who wanted half of what they managed to bring back.  Not many people in the QZ could afford that kind of contraband, so it made sense that it was one of the FEDRA soldier’s bankrolling this.  They were by no means rich, but they had a lot of pull and could provide all sorts of ration cards and promises to look the other way if future issues arose.  He couldn’t guarantee safe movement out and back in through the boundaries of the city, but he at least promised to look the other way in any future run-ins with the law.

“So that’s it: you’ll leave at eleven, you’re back by four, and you bring me my share the next day during my break?” the soldier confirmed.

“Yep,” Tess agreed.  “Quick and painless.  Hopefully.”

You didn’t expect the man’s eyes to land on you, but you didn’t particularly care for it.  "Is your little lap dog coming, too?" he smirked, glancing at Joel after he was finished raking his stare over you.

Your face got hot instantly, with shame and confusion.  "I— I'm not in his lap," you denied, "that's not— we don't—"

“No,” Joel interrupted firmly, “she’s not coming.”

There was an awkward silence, the place where he might’ve said and she’s not my lap dog, if he cared much about the accusation.  Tess seemed to be hanging onto that silence nearly as tightly as you were.

“Whatever,” the soldier finally brought everyone’s attention back to the conversation, “just meet me here tomorrow at half past one, and we’ll see what you’ve got.”

You were still thinking about that conversation that night— while you were keeping watch, like Joel had asked you to.  It was really boring; you spent most of the time on the couch, reading a book you’d bought off someone for a few rations.  After a while, your curiosity got the better of you, and you started snooping around Joel’s apartment.  There wasn’t much to look at… he didn’t own much, just a few shirts— actually, you thought those jeans he always wore might be his only pair…

Your search led you to his bed.  Even with no one here to see you do it, you were a little embarrassed to lean in and take a whiff of his pillow— but it was totally worth it.  It smelled just like him, that warm piney kind of scent he had; in times like this, not many people could afford to smell nice, but Joel could.  Not to say that he was the type to splurge on all the nicest stuff, you were pretty sure he didn’t even own cologne, but he owned shampoo and deodorant, so that put him in the 80th percentile for hygiene in the Boston QZ.

But it wasn’t just those products you smelled on his sheets— there was something quintessentially Joel to it all, something impossible to define but incredibly addictive.  It was instinctual, the way you got in his bed and curled up in those sheets, burying yourself in the comfort of him.  It was so easy to imagine how he might hold you, now that you were here— all you were missing was his strength, his weight, slow and steady breaths behind you as he drifted to sleep…

You woke up when you heard the door shut.  Startled into sitting up, you were hoping you’d have time to get out of his bed before he saw you— but he was already standing there, staring at you.  He was just a shape in the dark, so you couldn’t see his face, but you heard the exasperated sigh.

“I thought I told you to sleep on the couch,” he said.

“R-right, sorry,” you coughed, recalling last time this happened with a pained wince.

“Better yet, I thought I told you to keep watch!”

“You know you just say that,” you mumbled, “so you can keep me away from the real work.”

He didn’t say anything, probably because he knew you were right— but even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t, because Tess walked in a second later.  “Can’t believe he tried to stiff us,” she was saying as she walked in, half-laughing in frustration.  “Well, yeah I can,” she added a second later.

Her attitude changed when she saw you in the bed.  “I— I’ll go back to my—” you started, but you ended up just getting up and leaving in a hurry before you could really finish your thought.

Wiping a small tear from under your eye quickly, you walked out of Joel’s apartment and started for your own bunk across the city— even though it was more likely than not that somebody would hassle you for walking around during curfew.

Yes, if you had a little more self-respect, you would just stop hanging around those two and find some other work to do, but Joel had done something for you that you could never repay and never forget.  He didn’t have to love you the way you loved him— and you’d been sure for a while that he never would— but couldn’t he at least be a little nicer?  You wouldn’t feel right being anywhere but at his side, no matter how much he made it seem like he never wanted you there at all.

~

Honestly, you did consider not going back the next morning— but you figured they might actually need you for the next part.  Okay, not need, but they could at least use you for something: after smuggling anything in, you need a fence, someone to pawn this stuff off.  Joel and Tess did a decent job of keeping a low profile, but it was even easier to do so when they had someone like you moving contraband around Boston’s population.

So, after a few hours of sleep on that radically uncomfortable cot, you decided to head back to Joel’s place.  The sun was just above the horizon by this time, but only the people working early shifts for their rations were up now; you liked the city best when it was quiet like this, but then again, you liked almost everything better quiet.

Usually, Joel’s apartment was the same way.  But when you walked in, the energy was completely different than you were used to.  Where you’d normally find Tess counting up the score while Joel sipped on coffee (or liquor, depending most on the hour), instead you walked in on what was clearly a lover’s quarrel.

The thing was, this was not your typical argument— they were doing it Joel and Tess style, which is to say, as repressed as possible.  In fact, they weren’t even talking when you walked in, but just the way they were standing was indicative of the discomfort they were clearly trying not to acknowledge.

Tess was at the window, arms crossed, looking at the view; and you knew that was a bad sign, because there was no view to be had, the QZ was an eyesore and she complained about it all the time.  Joel was sitting at the table, facing the other way, his hand squeezing his own fist instead of the handle of his mug— it didn’t look injured, but his face still had a hint of pain on it.

“I’m sorry—” you mumbled, not sure what you were apologizing for yet, but Tess interrupted you.

“I’ll go,” she decided, walking over to the table.

“Okay,” Joel agreed, not looking at her.

Well, you were no relationship expert, and you didn’t even know what they were arguing about… but you knew that was pretty cold.  “So that’s all you’re gonna say to me?” Tess prompted him, her tone tight and her eyes red.

You kept your head low, as if that would hide the fact that you could clearly see and hear all this.  

“Yeah,” Joel decided, not as aloof as usual; it reminded you of how he usually spoke to you, that frustration, but it was definitely different.  More… exhausted.  “Yeah, it is.”

Tess put her weight predominantly on one leg, her hips shifting, as she let out a scoffing sort of breath.  For a moment, she looked at you; you looked back at her shyly from beneath your brows before looking away.  Why would she look at me right now?

Shaking her head, she left, mumbling to herself but you couldn’t make it out.  The door slammed behind her.  Joel sighed next.

“Everything okay?” you asked sheepishly, twisting your boot on the floor to watch the shapes it made in the thin layer of dust.

“Clearly,” he insisted, and the sarcasm was obvious though his voice was neutral.  You could tell he didn’t want you to prod more— anyone who knew Joel for two minutes would know that— but you still chewed your lip as you wondered what you should do.

Your attention turned to the stacks of contraband on the table; most of it was perfectly legal material to own, just not legal to acquire from outside the city’s perimeter.  “Looks like a good haul this time,” you noticed, hoping a change of subject would soothe him a little.  Maybe it did, but he didn’t show it.  He just kept squeezing his fist, and you gently sat down across from him at the table— and you started doing what you figured you should, going through what they’d brought back and starting to figure how much you could get for it.

For a while, he entertained that conversation, though with as short of responses as possible.  Not even a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, just hums and grunts that got the point across.  You could tell he was thinking, but you could also tell he didn’t want to be— that he’d rather forget about all that.  For once, he was struggling to do that.

It scared you to imagine doing something he so obviously didn’t want you to do, but you knew you couldn’t ignore it forever.  “What made her so upset?” you asked softly, finally.

He paused for so long that you thought he was just ignoring your question, but he did eventually say something.  “She told me something I wasn’t ready to hear,” he answered, “and… and I guess I said the wrong thing.”

“What did you say?”

“Actually, I didn’t say anything,” he admitted with a thin laugh.  “But, I said nothing in the wrong way.”

"... Do you think she'll come back?" you pressed, and his sigh was answer enough.

You had to wonder if he'd make you a real partner in all this now.  Probably not, right?  He thought so little of you before, that wouldn't change just because Tess was out.

“I’m sorry,” you decided.

“It’s not your fault,” he promised.  “It was me.”

You didn’t press on that, already thankful and pleasantly surprised by how much he’d shared.  He stood up a moment later, leaving the table and moving to the kitchenette so he could make some coffee; oddly, that comforted you.  Like things were going to go forward now, like life could be normal again and he would still drink his coffee.

For a while, it was quiet— just how you liked it, and how you figured he liked it, too.  He was humming a song at one point but you didn’t think he realized he was doing it.

It was so quiet, in fact, that when you went to lay on the sofa later, you ended up accidentally dozing off.  You couldn’t say how long you were asleep— you were pretty underslept, but it didn’t feel like more than an hour— just that you were awoken to the sound of movement in the kitchen area.

Sitting up, you tilted your head when you saw Joel had begun packing up the contraband haul— well, half of it.  “What are you—?” you began to ask, but then you saw the time, and you remembered; but he answered you anyways.

“Our buyer’s on his break now,” Joel announced as he stuffed a pack of bandages into his bag.  “I said I would meet him to show him what we got.”

“I can go with you!” you announced.  “You know, if Tess isn’t—”

“It’s fine,” he insisted, “I can do it myself.”

“Joel, please,” you pressed, “I promise I’ll do whatever you need me to, I just wanna help—”

“I need you to stay here,” he frowned.

Some things never change, huh?  “Why don’t you just let me go?  Let me help you?” you whimpered, lip shaking as you started to cry.  You hated yourself for it, but you knew you couldn’t stop it.

There was a pause before he responded.  “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Joel explained, but you doubted that was the real reason he didn’t want you to come.  “It only takes one of us, you’re better off here.”

“Tess was gonna go!” you reminded him, getting more upset.  "I know I'm not…" you trailed off as you tried not to cry too much or too loudly.  "I can't do what she can— I'm not strong…"

He sighed as he knelt down in front of you, resting his hand on your knee.  You peeked out from behind your fingers, but looked down again.

"I'm not— I'm not smart, either," you whimpered.  "I don't know anything, about before, about now—"

"That's not true," he mumbled, but you weren't finished yet.

"Nobody knows why you even keep me around, I sure don't," you shrugged, dropping your hands defeatedly, hot tears running faster down your face and dripping onto your pants; his hand reached up and wiped your cheeks with a gentleness you never knew he had.  “M’not… I’m not tough, like you guys…”

"You know what you are, little girl?" he replied quietly.  "You're good.  You're sweet.  Me an' Tess, we need someone like you to keep us from bein' sad old assholes all the time…"

He sighed, and you thought was done talking, until he spoke again, softer.

"I need someone like you."

Your heart swelled, and light filled your chest, until you had just enough confidence to finally blurt out what you'd been holding in for months: "Joel, you should know that I always—"

"Shh," he soothed, nodding.  "I know."

Your face got hot instantly again, and your heart sank.  "I think everybody knows," you mumbled awkwardly, giving him a half-smile through the drying tears.  "But I thought— it's just that you never—"

“I couldn’t,” he insisted.  “You understand that?  I couldn’t, not with you—”

“Why not?” you snapped.  “Why can’t you?”

“If you don’t know why, you’re more hopeless than I thought,” he frowned.

“I know— I know I’m… a lot younger than you…” you mumbled, almost not wanting to say it in case he actually hadn’t noticed that.  “I know you think I’m not very mature and stuff… but that shouldn’t matter when you really love someone—”

“Woah, hey,” he coughed, “love?  Sweetheart, you’ve got a crush—”

“No!  Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snapped, surprising both of you with your sudden ability to stand up to him.  “You can tell me what to do but not what to feel.”

“Okay,” he softened up, “fine.  That’s fair.  But it’ll pass—”

"I've never loved anybody before," you whimpered, "and I'm never gonna love anybody like I love you.  I know that!  I know you think I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't understand love, but I know that I really love you!  Okay?  So just… just stop talking!  Doesn’t need to take this long for you to reject me, geez…”

There was a pregnant pause, you were too caught up in your own frustration to really notice it: the way he looked to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment.  You weren’t expecting him to say anything after that, so it nearly startled you when he spoke.  “It was last night, after you left,” he explained.  “I— I thought about telling you to come back, figured you’d be safer on the couch than walking back across the city at that time…”

Wrapping your arms around your chest, you smiled a little imagining that, but you knew you couldn’t have taken him up on that offer: it would’ve killed you, trying to sleep on that sofa while Joel and Tess shared the bed.

“She told me not to,” Joel continued.  “That’s… that’s how it started, I guess…”

“That girl’s so obsessed with you,” Tess laughed lightly, toying with Joel’s lapel.  “It’s cute, really.  I mean, it’s sad— but it’s cute.”

“Hm,” Joel said first, not really listening— it took him a second to properly react.  “Why is it sad?” he asked when her words processed completely.

“‘Cause she thinks she might actually have a chance,” Tess explained.

That was it, what he did wrong; he sees it now, in retrospect, but at the time he figured saying nothing was his safest bet.  Apparently, he didn’t have to say anything.

“Shit,” Tess said suddenly, moving instantly from shock to anger.  “Are you fucking serious?”

“What?” Joel spat.

“You know fucking what,” she returned sharply.  “That look— you looked away.”

“Okay?  So?” Joel tried to defend himself, but he knew that she knew now— believe it or not, he really wasn’t much of a liar.  Especially with her.

“She’s a goddamn fetus, Joel,” Tess reminded him.  “She hasn’t seen a hundredth of the shit we’ve seen, she hasn’t lost anyone—”

“Lost her parents,” Joel corrected.

“Well, we all lose our parents,” Tess rolled her eyes, “that’s part of life.”

Not the way she lost them, Joel wanted to add, but he was going back to his original plan of saying nothing.

“She’s not like us,” Tess insisted.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Joel decided.

That was the point of no return; because Tess had never thought of you as competition, she barely even thought of you at all, but if innocence was something he wanted… then the competition was already over before it even started.  The silence was heavy, more sad than angry, and Joel knew he really fucked up because he’d never really seen Tess speechless before.  Is it bad that he didn’t regret it, though?  Maybe he could’ve handled things better, but telling her the truth couldn’t be wrong.  It’s not like he’d been hiding it, really— he never even acknowledged it himself, not often.

“I can’t believe you,” she shook her head, and shame twisted in his gut.  “Part of me always— not always, I guess, but part of me wondered.  Sometimes the way you looked at her…”

As she trailed off, Joel looked down, too afraid for her to look in his eyes now.

“You’d do anything to keep her safe,” she said instead of finishing that last thought.  “I told myself you didn’t look at me like that because you knew I could protect myself.”

“I do,” he promised.

“So what do you want?” she asked point-blank.  “Something you can protect, or something you don’t have to?”

“And what did you say?” you asked hurriedly.

“I told her what I wanted,” was all he replied, and your heart skipped.  “And that’s… that’s why she left.”

Joel nodded slightly, looking away.  But you reached out and touched his face, turning it back towards you.  Impulsively, you leaned forward and kissed him; it took all the courage you had, and a hand on his shoulder for balance, but you felt him kiss you back after a moment.  It was gentle, for how sudden it was, and you sighed as his hand moved higher up your leg.  

You were still crying, because of course you were, but he didn’t mind as much as you’d worried: he only wiped your tears away, holding onto your face, standing up and pulling you with him.

“I love you,” you whispered as he embraced you, wanting to say it a thousand times now that it wasn’t the worst-kept secret in Boston.  “I love you, Joel—”

“I know,” he promised, whispering back into the kiss which got deeper with each passing moment.  “I know, darlin’.”

That was enough for you— that was plenty: the way he kissed you, and held you, calling you darlin’ in that rough-yet-gentle voice… you were weak already, melting into his touch, ready to give him anything.

In fact, he had to put a hand on your shoulder and gently push you away to get you to calm down, and your face heated up as you realized how eager you’d been.  “Don’t need to get so worked up, m’gonna take care of you now, okay?”

“You always take care of me,” you noticed.

“A different way,” he explained.

Just the way those brown eyes darkened, just the way he said that made your thighs clench against each other.  “Y-you’ll miss the meeting with the buyer,” you realized.

“Fuck,” Joel grumbled, and you smiled a bit.  “Waited this long and now I’ve gotta fuckin’ leave you again.”

Your hand rested on his chest, the soft flannel of his shirt transmitting some of the warmth of his body, and you looked up with him with wide, wet eyes.

“I know you hate waitin’ here, but… I always liked it,” he admitted, his voice softer yet deeper.  “I always liked knowing you were here, waiting for me…”

Your heart swelled.  “Y-yeah— I didn’t mind waiting for you so much,” you admitted in return, “just didn’t want you to think that’s all I was good for.”

He kissed your temple, making your chest flood with warmth.  “I know,” he promised.  “You’ll be here when I get back, won’tcha?  Can’t disappear on me now.”

“I won’t, I’ll be here,” you assured, turning your face to peck his cheek in return.  It seemed to surprise him, like he hadn’t had tenderness of that sort in a long time.

~

Funny how you’d waited for him all night before, but that half hour felt longer than all of them combined.  You were quite sure you knew what he meant before— about how he would take care of you in a different way— and it put you on edge all afternoon.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed you, about his hands pulling you closer.  Or his eyes: if he’d ever looked at you like that before, you hadn’t noticed (which was probably what he intended).  

For how much time you spent wondering what you would do, what you would say, when he returned, you ended up not doing much of either: he was on you the moment he stepped in the door, though that was sort of what you’d been betting on when you decided to strip down to just your underwear and wait for him like that.  Not that you minded the idea of him, you know, tearing your clothes off like one of those romance novels— you just didn’t like the idea of having to wait any longer than you already had and this shirt had way too many buttons.

He did take a moment to stare you down when he came back, to appreciate your nakedness, and despite imagining showing yourself to him many times before, you felt a little self-conscious with his eyes just piercing through you like that: you didn’t cover yourself, ignoring a slight instinct to do so, but you did wrap your arms over your stomach and cross your legs as you sat on his bed.

Waiting for him to say something— or, possibly, waiting for yourself to find some courage to speak— you were a little taken aback when he grabbed you and kissed you.  And you realized, as his lips moved with yours even harder, deeper, needier than before, that there was nothing else to say.

He climbed on top of you on that bed, laid you down on it gently, as his weight pressed you down into the mattress.  You could've sworn you heard him growl when he rocked his hips against yours, a firm bulge in his jeans pressing right up to where heat had gathered between your legs.

Fingers weaving in his hair, you hummed as you did all you could to keep him close, as if he might just disappear if you didn’t hold him near to you.  But he didn’t seem like much of a flight risk, considering his tight grip on you— so tight it could leave marks, which you hoped it would.  You needed more than just memories of this.

“Tell me this is what you want,” he demanded, his voice breathless yet somehow not weak at all.  “Need to know you want this.”

“Fuck, Joel, f’course,” you promised— wasn’t it obvious?  It probably was.  But you could understand if he was still fighting back some guilt; you just wanted to do everything you could to help him forget about that.  “So bad,” you continued, “for so long…”

“Since I saved you?” he assumed, his teeth grazing your lip like a threat to bite down harder— a threat that made you throb from the inside out.

“Before,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly.  

“Didn’t even know me before,” he noticed, raising an eyebrow.

“Saw you around sometimes—” god, am I blushing as hard as it feels like I am? — “thought maybe you could… you know…”

Protect me.  Hold me.  Take care of me.  And fuck me like the world is ending even though it already did.

He smirked at you proudly, leaning in to kiss your neck this time, following some invisible trail that made you even more sensitive to the touch of his lips; after he kissed right under your ear, he whispered to you.

“Then just go ahead and take what you want, darlin’.”

After a shiver ran over you, so strong you thought it might never end, your hands shot down between you so you could get to work on his belt and fly; you felt his smile against your skin, then his teeth a moment later, as his hand rubbed the curve of your waist gently.

Both of you gasped when your fingers wrapped gently around his cock, for different reasons.  The skin was so smooth, it was hard to believe something this soft and silky was part of Joel— and it was hot, or maybe your fingers were just cold, but you hoped that didn't bother him.

He was already starting to move his hips just a bit, rocking into your touch, and you hummed when he suddenly grabbed your hand to force it to press firmer against himself.  "You thought about touchin' me like this before?" he asked in a voice that was breathy and low— you loved hearing the pleasure in his voice.

"Y-yeah," you admitted shyly; when he let your hand go, your touch wandered, your hands sliding up under the bottom of his shirt so you could feel the skin there— the firm muscle, the thin scars, the graying hairs that formed a trail down his stomach…

Grabbing your wrists, he pinned them down above your head, and you let out a joyful whine.  "Keep those there," he ordered, and you nodded as you watched him intently.

His hands traced down your body, making shivers run all over your skin; how could a man with so much strength touch you so delicately?

He purred as his fingers ran down to your panties, toying with the edge of the fabric before carefully pulling them down your legs.  You tried not to wiggle too much, but your hips were desperate for some friction, for some attention from him— they didn't have to wait long, though.  He groaned at the sight as he parted your legs, grabbing himself to rub his fat head through your folds.  "Fuck," he mumbled, your channel clenching on nothing as you saw how far apart his tip forced your swollen lips, "so wet for me already, bet I'll slide right in…"

Your back arched with a moan just imagining that, and he pushed your stomach down flat with his free hand so you wouldn't angle too far away from him, laying his body atop yours.  Though you tried to stay still, you couldn’t stop shaking as he lined himself up; it felt surreal, it felt hyperreal— his skin against yours was unlike anything you could’ve imagined.

You’d sort of wondered if he’d say something before he put it in, maybe a quick you ready? or even here it comes which would’ve been stupid but an appreciated warning nonetheless.  Instead, he just looked at your face carefully, and pushed inside.  It was sudden, sharp; your whole body tensed up and you sucked in a breath before biting your lip.

He only made it halfway in, struggling against how tight you were.  You were doing everything you could not to give away your pain, but he must've seen it in your expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.  "I'm hurting you…"

"No— Joel, please don't stop—"

You wrapped your legs around his hips to try to keep him inside, but he pulled out most of the way and looked down— and you winced when he saw the blood.  "Baby, you… are you— is this your—?  Fuck, why didn't you say something?"

"You wouldn't have done it with me if you knew it was my first time," you explained with a whimper.

"No, baby— I just would've taken my time with you, s'all," he sighed, "would've helped you— sweetie, it didn't need to hurt like that…"

Clutching tighter at his shirt, you pulled him down into a needy kiss. "Hurt me more, Joel," you pleaded into it with a breathy whisper, "do whatever you want to me.  I'm yours— that's all I want, just to be yours."

He kissed you back, slow but passionate; but, much to your dismay, he pulled out and sat up.

"No, Joel, I'm sorry," you whined, "I'm sorry— I didn't mean to lie, I'm so sorry, I promise I can be good!  M'gonna be really good for you!"

But he just shook his head, and you bit your quivering lip as tears ran down your temples.  He smiled, just a little.  "Such a crybaby," he scolded you softly.  "What am I gonna do with you, little girl?  You can't even keep yourself together."

He leaned down again, but he slid his knees down on the bed so he could position his face between your legs.  He kissed your inner thigh first, and you jumped because it tickled.

Then he held your hips, running his thumbs over your skin soothingly, and you tried not to squirm too much as he looked up at you with those dark eyes— much darker than before.  “You want me to taste you?” he asked, like it was your idea or something.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled sheepishly, and he actually laughed for a moment.  

“Yeah?” he repeated.  “Could you be a little more specific?”

Oh— he wants me to beg.  “Um— please?  Taste me, Joel…”

He smiled, but not like a haha funny smile or an oh that’s nice smile— a really dirty kind of smile, even though his teeth were actually in better condition than most out here.  “Okay, baby,” he agreed.

He was subtle about it at first, just giving gentle kisses all around; you felt… exposed, even more than you had with his face between your legs before.

“Is that alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than the last time you heard it.

“Y-yeah,” you choked, clearing your throat.  “Don’t… don’t stop, please…”

When he got back to it, he was much more aggressive— long, slow licks between your lips, sloppy kisses with his eyes shut tight; and you whined as you held on tighter to the sheets.  You didn’t realize how hard you were shaking until his grip on your thighs was bruisingly tight.  And as he held you down, he just dug in deeper: every time you thought he’d stop escalating the intensity of it all, he just did it more— he just did everything more— until you couldn’t control your moans and gasps anymore.

His tongue was the fucking devil; he slid it inside you and your eyes rolled back.  He sucked greedily on your clit until your hips bucked uncontrollably, moaning against your skin just enough that you could hear it over your own shameless cries.

"Joel, fuck, how are you—?  Oh god—"

"Mm?" he encouraged you to finish your thought without breaking away from you.

"How does that feel so good?" you sobbed.  "Oh my god— please don't stop, never stop, oh fuck!"

All he was doing was flicking his tongue over your bud, such a small interaction with a tiny little organ, and your whole body was shaking.  Reaching down and grabbing his hair, you didn't mean to tug on it so hard but you also didn't expect him to moan deeply when you did.  

His mouth moved a little higher, focusing on the bud you were sure had never been this swollen or this sensitive.  Doing so freed your opening, and one of his thick fingers prodded at it.  "Please," you panted, wanting any part of him to be inside you again.

He pushed it in, the roughness of his skin creating the perfect friction on your delicate walls.  You were waiting to feel his knuckle against you, but instead he only put it in maybe halfway, not very far at all.  It didn’t make much sense to you, until he started to rub one place just inside and a gasp instantly inflated your chest.

“Oh—” you choked, and he was licking harder on your clit at the same time that he added a second finger; you’d never felt anything like it before.  “Joel!” you squealed, hating how girlish it sounded but helpless to the control he had over your body with just two fingers and his tongue.

His rhythm wasn’t all that fast but it was relentless, the exact tempo you needed for that pleasure to build and build, toes curling and vision getting all spotty— you tried to look down at him sometimes, but your head wanted so badly to tilt back and let everything go black.

“I— oh, fuck— I’m gonna— fuck, Joel!” you sobbed, grabbing on tighter to his hair; you took one glimpse at it, and when you saw the scattered silver hairs peeking out from between your fingers, it just made you even more overwhelmed.

He hummed and looked up at you, encouraging you— his fingers pumped faster and faster suddenly, and when it hit, you felt like your whole body was going numb.  It started where he was touching you, but then a moment later it was in your head, then it was just running all over and you were too weak to do anything but give into it.

Suddenly it became too much, and the hand that had been holding him down by his hair was suddenly pushing him away; you blinked away the spots in your vision to catch a glimpse of him with that beard soaked in you, but his fingers hadn’t stopped yet.  “Oh… ohhh my god…” you whined, breathing harder than you could ever remember breathing before, your head getting all dizzy and cloudy as he smirked up at you and continued fucking you with his hand.

Your hole was pulsing, flexing over and over, waves of slick leaking out until you could feel the puddle spreading under you.  Your cheeks burned with humiliation, even though he kept praising you as his fingers milked everything from your swollen spot.  "Good girl, good girl," he said over and over, "fuck, good job, soak the sheets, baby— soak my fingers, keep going…"

"Joel," you sobbed, desperate for some relief from the overwhelming sensation.  He didn't really stop, just slowed down a lot, but he kept twisting his fingers and rubbing that one place until your quivering body collapsed completely onto his mattress.  And then he went on for just a little bit longer after that.

Then he stopped.  When you thought you might fucking pass out.

He climbed up your body and brought his two soaked fingers to your slack lips.  

"You want a taste, too, baby?" he purred.

You dutifully opened your mouth and did your best to clean his fingers off, sucking and licking as he hummed a bit; his eyes got a little darker as he felt your tongue run all over his rough fingers.

"What do you think?" he prompted when he pulled his fingers away, and you swallowed as you made a little face.

"I dunno if I like it," you admitted nervously.  "Kinda sour."

"Really?  I think your pussy's fuckin' delicious."

Your face flushed, but you didn't say anything else because he was reaching down to hold his cock again— and your heart started racing.

"Ready to do this the right way?" he prompted, and you nodded eagerly.  "S'gonna feel so much better, now you're all ready for me.  Ready for something this big inside ya— but it might still sting at first, okay?  Just hold onto me tight."

That you did, tighter than you thought you could— apparently you were stronger than you realized, especially considering that orgasm nearly took you out a minute ago.  But you had to hold on that tight as he began to push that fat head inside you, stretching you so wide before he'd even gotten the ridge of it past your opening.  It didn't sting like before, or at least not as much, but it was still completely overwhelming.  You forgot to breathe until he was halfway in: you gasped out his name, reminding yourself he was inside you and above you and everywhere, everything.

"See how much— fuck— how much easier it is now?" he grunted, sliding into you slowly until his hips met yours.  "See how you're takin' all'a me?  God damn, still tight as hell, though."

You were delirious already, he hadn't even moved yet.  You didn't think it could get much better than his mouth on you, than coming because of him, but this?  This perfect stretch, this addictive friction, knowing he was completely inside you and that he liked how you felt?  This was ecstasy, bliss.  And he hadn't even fucking moved yet.

"Gonna have a hard time being gentle with you now," he admitted with a growl beside your ear.  "You've got one of those perfect little pussies that just needs to be fucked hard— suckin' me in, just beggin' for it rough and fast."

"Joel," you whined, "fuck me however you want, please… I can take it, I swear, I want you so bad…"

Still, when he moved, it was slow and patient.  Too goddamn slow.

"Fuck," you sobbed, back arching up off the bed as he carefully savored every detail of you.  "Fuck, Joel, I can't— I can't believe you're— I can't believe it's you.  I wanted you so much I couldn't fucking breathe."

He smiled at you, and leaned in to kiss your neck; you let out what could only be described as a joyful whimper.  “Wanted you too,” he finally admitted.  “Tried not to, you’re so young… jus’ couldn’t help it after a while.”

"Faster," you whined, "please, fuck, please please—"

"You are so goddamn spoiled, you know that?" Joel grunted— but then he did it, he fucked you even faster than you'd imagined.  His thrusts were still deep and long, but they came at you quicker than you could process and you nearly screamed.  

You were even more sensitive after he’d made you come the first time; it was just overwhelming, the feeling of him, and you felt like your mind had left your body— like your mind had left you entirely.

“Y’feel fuckin’ perfect, darlin’,” he praised lowly, kissing your neck with all the gentleness and patience his thrusts lacked.  “So good for me.”

Maybe it was pathetic, but being good for him felt fucking amazing— not just physically, obviously.  It felt like having a purpose; you’d never really felt that before.

You lost track of time; honestly, you lost track of everything.  Everything that wasn’t this had fallen away, and it was just you holding on for dear life as Joel wrecked you all over again with every motion.  "Hear that?  How wet you are for me?" he groaned, and yes, there was a squishy-wet sound that filled the room with each thrust.  You tried to answer him, say something witty about how he made you that wet so many times, but only moans came when you opened your mouth.  "I asked you a question," he reminded you.  "Can you fuckin' hear it?"

Whimpering, you could only bite your lip and nod.

"Oh," he smiled, "I see— you get stupid with cock in you, huh?  Get fucked right and that silly brain just turns off?"

You nodded again— wasn’t much else for you to do.

"Just gonna be a dumb whore for me now?" he asked.  "Just kidding, I know you already were."

“Fuck— Joel—” you choked.

"No no, it's okay— it's good,” he soothed you, kissing a tear from your temple that you hadn’t even realized was there.  “You don't need to think.  I don't need you to think.  You can just be my fucktoy, okay?  You can just be my slut.  Say it."

"I-I'm your slut, Joel…"

He hummed appreciatively; your moan caught in your throat, and you tried to hide your face in his shoulder— you couldn’t believe he was still dressed, for all you knew he still had his boots on, and meanwhile you were stripped of everything.  Not just your clothes: you were stripped of all pretense (didn’t need it) and dignity (didn’t want it).  You’d thought of yourself as his for quite some time now, but now that he’d really made you his, it was more than you could’ve imagined.

When you came with him inside you, it wasn’t like how it was before— definitely similar, obviously the same thing at the core of it, but very different.  Before it was so… sudden, like a firework going off and then glittering into darkness (at least, that was how you understood fireworks to be, you’d only ever had them explained to you).  This was more like a deep pressure that just built and built and built, and then at some point you’d crossed that threshold and you were there but it didn’t go away, it just stayed at the peak while he kept moving inside you.

He grunted as your walls beared down on him, watching the tears of ecstasy stream down your face.  “Tryin’ to milk my cock, huh?” he accused with a snarl to his tone.  “S’that what you want?”

You weren’t really paying attention, you couldn’t while he was fucking you like that.  Digging your fingers into his shoulders through the flannel shirt, you just whimpered and nodded.

“S’workin’, baby,” he smiled, “little pussy’s got me so tight— is it a little too much, honey?  You’re cryin’...”

“I— I always cry,” you sniffled.

“M’not gonna make you take too much more,” he promised, “doin’ so good honey— gonna let you rest soon—”

“No, d-don’t stop,” you begged, and he laughed a little.

“I’m close,” he explained, and even though that should’ve been obvious, it made you feel better.  “Normally takes me a little longer, but… never had a pussy like this.”

That was probably just flattery, but you were happy to believe it.  Happy enough to just lay back and let that pleasure wash over you, but of course, he expected more of you than that.

"Tell me where I can come," he ordered.  

"Fuck, Joel— anywhere you want, anywhere," you pleaded, struggling to keep your train of thought but desperate to appease him as best you could.

"Inside you?" he pressed.

"Yeah, fuck, anywhere," you insisted.

"I bet that's what you want— you want it inside.  You want this cunt full and dripping."

“Fuck— yeah,” you agreed, “s’what I want— please, please—”

“Shh, don’t need to beg,” he assured sweetly, kissing your neck again— burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, until his panting breaths echoed on your skin.  “Don’t need to beg, darlin’, gonna fill you nice and deep—”

“Please,” you said again, ignoring his assurances.

“Just like you need it—”

“Please, Joel— love you so much,” you sobbed, your thighs starting to go a little numb where his jeans were rubbing against them and your clit getting sore from the way he stayed deep inside and grinded himself against you.

“I know,” he promised again, “jus’ say it one more time.”

“I love you, Joel,” you cried, and it was over somewhat suddenly: he stayed still, and you could feel his grip on you tighten, and you heard that sound that was like a groan and a sigh at the same time.  You’d hoped you’d be able to really feel it inside you, the warmth of his come, but everything was so hot that it was all the same— what you did feel was full, even more than you had just from his cock in you, and it was enough to make you clutch at his shoulders again despite having almost no energy left in you.

Though he stayed inside for a little while after, he did eventually have to pull out; you were too exhausted to even think about trying to close your legs when he stared down at you— at his come leaking slowly from your hole.

You knew there would need to be a conversation soon about what this all meant— what should happen now with the business, with your relationship, even just what should happen tomorrow morning since you’d both given in to instinct rather than take the safer route and have Joel pull out…

But that would have to wait; you still couldn’t think straight, you couldn’t think about anything but him in fact.

Thankfully, Joel was just fine with the silence.  He just held you, let you wander between sleep and wakefulness, and wiped that last stray tear away from your face.

“I’m sorry I keep crying,” you offered quietly, breaking a long silence.

“I don’t mind,” he promised.

[pampushky]

ive been watching him for my entire life

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 1 - 6.1k

TW: Scene of attempted SA, and the abuser never referred to by name. Sexism (but in the A/B/O sense). Self-harm and depressive episodes.

Themes: Exploration of what disabilities, PTSD, and chronic pain look like in the A/B/O world. If you have input about what that may look like, dm me. Slow burn. So much so you're not sure if it's even burning at times.

also yeah Loscar is canon it's my au I can do what I fucking want

Leave your feedback in the comments/feel free to dm me about that shit if you don't feel comfy dropping an anon or comment.

next part | masterlist | series masterlist

Mid January. 2024 Paris.

The hallway outside the trial room in the FIA headquarters is deceptively calm. Silent, save for the voices in the room behind you. You’d given your statement. Explained everything that had happened during your past two years at Williams, first with Nicholas Latifi, and then with Logan. Trying to do something with a car that was, in the kindest words, a tractor. Logan sits beside you, with a similar thousand-yard stare, just disassociating into space. Trying to trace the pattern of the carpet. 

“I should have been more— more perceptive,” Logan croaks, and you squeeze his hand, and shake your head. “Jesus. I— I tried to tell them everything. Everything I remembered from before–-”

“Thank you,” your voice is faint. Weak. Unlike you.

“Of course,” Logan squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back. “Always.”

You still remember the pit wall. Having to brush against his elbows occasionally. Knowing he did it on purpose some days, trying to provoke you. Going so far as to send you things coated in his scent when you were in heat, to try and provoke a bond sickness. Saved only by your brothers, curled close to you, letting you sleep in their arms as your fever raged. You were lucky your heats weren’t— weren’t consistently like that. More so just like a terrible fever and migraine, thanks to your medication. 

One pill to keep you from entering a real heat, morning. Two pills to help ease the brain fog from your head injury, morning and night. Another single pill to be taken whenever the pain gets too bad for you to function, any time of day. Anxiety medication, morning. Hormonal amplifiers to make up for the scent glands damaged by the fire all those years ago, morning and night. Scent blockers to mask your scent, morning. In total eight pills a day at your worst, perhaps nine.  

You croon nervously, despite knowing you’re safe here. That just inside the room behind you, past the heavy oak doors, are your grandfather and your uncles brothers. They’d never let anything happen to you. Not again. 

His elbow brushing against yours during the last lap of the race, encouraging Alex, despite his pace and his spot on the grid. Logan thanking you for being his engineer and friend during everything. You sit along the pit wall, silently, as celebrations rock the grid, and he appears in front of you, trying to make small talk, before following as you try to escape it, not wanting to talk to him, even as he looms behind you. His grip on the back of your neck, smothering the only bond you had, to Niki, to your pack. 

The near-toxic scent smothers you because of how close he is. Pushing you behind a stack of tires as you try to fight back, baring your teeth and thrashing while he manages to shove a need into your upper thigh, right through your pants. You yelp, and kick, trying to get any attention towards you, while most of the garage is empty. You feel him tearing at the collar of your shirt, ripping at it, pushing you into the tires. You bring your head into his nose, feeling the gush of blood against your face as he squeals and falls backward a few steps. 

You can’t smell anything besides his blood on your face, the metallic scent making you gag. When he turns to look at you, his face stained red, you growl, your lips drawn back over your teeth, trying to edge along the wall to get away from him. 

With a snarl, he leaps at you, pinning you to the wall, both hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your airway. You thrash, and just as you think you’re going to pass out, the weight of his hands disappears from your neck. You stay where you are, leaning against the wall. Watching as Logan snarls furiously, pinning the other Alpha to the ground with ease, his long canines bared and coming close to the man’s neck, threatening to tear and rip and end whatever pathetic life he lived—

“I should have done more,” Logan leans down, his head in his hands. 

“You almost killed him,” you whisper, and that seems to startle the driver even more. “You almost killed him. I think that’s enough.”

The two of you sit in silence until Logan’s lawyer and his manager leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. For the brief moment that the doors are open, you hear him screaming his voice hoarse as the judgment comes ever closer. 

“The FIA won’t be pressing any charges,” The lawyer says softly while Logan continues to keep his head down. “Neither will—”

“Don’t say his name,” Logan looks up, interrupting the lawyer before he can even say something. There’s a fire in his words, a rare fury. “Don’t. I don’t— she doesn’t—”

“I apologize, I forgot about that.” The lawyer says, glancing over to look at you. You look presentable now. Nothing like the blurry images the paparazzi had gotten of you without any of your makeup to hide all the burns. Your skin looks more even, the uneven bumps and indents from the mottled scarring across your jaw partially hidden by concealer and foundation. The scars get more severe as they cross your upper cheek and the top of your nose. That’s the only part that’s harder to hide, even when you’ve covered it fully in makeup. 

“It’s time to go, Logan,” 

He looks at you with uncharacteristic panic. He’s the opposite of most alpha stereotypes. You’re glad Oscar’s found his way back to him, and that you’ve gotten to witness the sweet courtship start. He pulls you into a tight hug, and that’s when you finally crumble.

“You’re gonna be okay without me,” You whisper, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be fucking fantastic, Lo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Is all he can murmur, practically folding over you and holding you closer. “Maybe if I—”

“It’s okay. I’ll still be on the grid.”

“But it won’t be the same,”

“No. It won’t,” You choke out, as Logan pulls away. Both of you newly aged by the experience. You won’t be there to defend Logan from James. Logan won’t be there to understand the odd homesickness for a country you only partially remember, stuck between European and American. 

You feel small as Logan is led away by his manager and lawyer. His scent fading as the seconds turn to minutes, and then suddenly an hour has passed. Leaving you alone in the hallway until your brothers can get there. By the time they do arrive (two hours later), you’ve been chewing on your fingers and palms enough to make them bleed. Mathias and Lukas know you well enough to have already brought bandages and towels to help clean and treat the new wounds. Before this, you’d not been chewing or clawing at yourself for nearly a year and a half. Your therapist had looked devastated when you’d turned in the little chip she’d given you for not self-harming. 

There’s screaming from inside the room, before Niki bursts out, snarling a remark over his shoulder before he catches your eye, and softens. Your sire, despite his age, despite the fact that he has been told by his doctor many times that he needs to calm down, to be kinder to his aging body and new kidney, despite everything that should be holding him back, bends to knock his forehead against yours. One of his hands comes to the nape of your neck, softly rubbing the paternal bond he’d left there, claiming you as his child rather than a descendant. 

“Maus,” The feel of his scarred hands is familiar, comforting. His scent is even more so. Like spruce trees and slightly burnt sugar. Looking at you with red-rimmed irises that show his designation, his secondary sex, while he looms over you protectively. He sees the new bandages around your hands and the new bulkiness of your sleeves. 

“Oh, Maus…” Niki leans down, and croons 

If he wasn’t in active recovery from the kidney transplant, he’d likely be curling around you in his wolf form, just as he had done when you were little and first placed in his care after—

“You’re safe here. You’re safe.” 

It’s moments like this that you’re glad that your sense of smell was so destroyed after the fire. You’re grateful that you could only catch the faint scent of those within a small area around you. Because all you can smell is your father, your sire, who would burn the world down for you if it meant making you smile. That Mathias and Lukas— your brothers, not uncles, never uncles, too close to be considered just uncles to you— mark a silent guard beside you, Lukas in canine form, letting you hide your face in his dusty blond-brown fur. Mathias stands silently beside you, but with his hand held tightly in yours.

Memories of your first moments with them. The terror. Sleeping in the pillow forts and nests you’d built up until this very point in time. Always your guardians. Always by your side. In the hospital and beyond. 

You’re chewing on your thumbnail, claw extended, and Niki looks at you with a worried gaze, before softly reaching over and squeezing your shoulder.

The door opens again, and you hear shouting in a voice that haunted your dreams from within the room and then more of it, very quickly coming in your direction. Not the exit that you’d been told he would be made to use when the judgment was finally placed. 

You can just barely catch a whiff of the scent— overpowering and choking you as you tried to work, tried to examine all of the strategies that could help Logan succeed in last year’s car while the scent makes it hard to think, to breathe— before it’s nearly upon you entirely, with the Alpha who had made your past two years with Williams utter hell staring down at you, enraged, trying to push past your brothers to get to you, snarling and snapping at you as Niki shoves you forcefully behind him. 

“Tell them— tell them you accepted my courtship! You wanted this—”

Two officials start to drag him away. But you can still remember his scent. How weak he’d made you feel when you were trying to work on the car. Hating how he had purred and crooned with your every movement. Making sure you were always choking on his scent. Lukas rumbles in anger beside you, rising to stare down the man, hiding you from further view with his giant body. But of course he continues. 

“You accepted my gifts! You wanted this—”

No. You hadn’t wanted any of this. You’d just wanted to work on the cars. To help your friend grow and achieve. 

“As if anyone else would have you—”

Mathias snarls, and you can only pray that your grip on his hand is enough to stop him from lunging at the offending man.

“— you useless, crippled omega—”

Niki lunges this time, snarling, the old man’s frankly colossal canine form pining him to the ground with ease. Your sire's teeth just millimeters from tearing his throat out, stopped only by your panicked whine. Such a rare noise from you. You won’t have those you care about kill this man, this weak excuse for an Alpha. You don’t want to think of the heavy scent of his blood when you’re near them, seeking comfort from your family.

“Get him out of my sight,” Niki groans, when just a second later, court officers charge from the room. His canine form melts away, and he huffs, sitting down in one of the stiff chairs with a wince that you are hyper-aware of. Mathias looks at you with deep worry in his eyes. But you’re numb. Watching him get dragged away. Your thigh twinges from where he’d stabbed you with the needle. Part of it had broken off inside of you, removed at the hospital while the FIA officials tried to smooth things over. 

It twinges again when the verdict is read as you’re gently shuffled back into the room. He’s not allowed back in. It’s been shown he can’t control himself. 

“—Guilty on all counts, and shall be henceforth blacklisted from employment by all motorsports under the jurisdiction of the FIA. Omega Lauda shall be awarded a sum off—”

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as you hold your arms tightly. Claws slowly sinking into the fresh bandages and redoing all the damage your brothers had worked so hard to fix.

Early February 2024. Woking. 

Lando knows he’s a big deal. He’s one of the most popular drivers, with a rabid fanbase that was willing to go to bat for him for just about anything, even when he was the one at fault. Edits were made when he so much as breathed. All that he doesn’t have is that elusive first win, but he has a feeling this season will be different. Be it how refreshed he feels after spending some time back in his childhood home with his parents and siblings, just to spend time as a pack for the first time in several years, all six of them together. 

His family is perfect. An alpha and omega set of parents, with two alphas and two omegas for pups, all rather successful. His brother, a former world champion in kart racing, now with a loving mate and the cutest pup in the world. His sister, a showjumper quickly rising through the ranks. All successful and perfect and beautiful. Lando can’t help but puff his chest out a bit, because that’s his pack. 

There’s an odd buzz in the air when he arrives, and through the giant glass windows, he can see how many people are gathered in the building, all wearing bright orange. As he comes closer, the overflowed parking has been filled. He parks his car in his specific spot, right next to Oscar, who’s already there, just not by his car. He’s just about ready to head to the on-site cafe when Andrea pops out of nowhere to drag him by his arm somewhere, cursing slightly.

“Mate— what’s got you in such a mood—” Lando whines, already feeling like the team principal is doing way too much this early in the morning. 

“Did you not read any of your emails or texts?” Andrea hisses, the Beta turning on his heels to grab Lando by both his shoulders, looking straight into the young driver’s eyes with a fury only seen when he’d been messing around in the garage and nearly broke the experimental back wing during testing in the summer. “Lando Norris, I could gut you right now—”

“What did I do?” Lando whines again, high-pitched and childish, and Andrea runs his hands down his face, cursing fluently in Italian, while also asking the Virgin Mary for patience, based on how many times he hears a hail mary tumble past the team principal’s lips. 

“You’re late. An hour late. Oscar, Zak, and I have been calling you for nearly that entire time and you’ve been silent.”

“...Late for what?” Lando utters. His phone had been dead, constantly forgotten to get plugged into the charger. Today had been no different. 

“O Maria, dammi la pazienza e la forza— your new race engineer is being introduced? Today?”

“What?! But I don’t even know who he is—”

“It’s a she, first of all, and maybe you’d know if you checked your emails—”

The conversation must be attracting attention, because soon, Oscar is also by his side, looking mildly disappointed in the older man. The omega’s scent has just the hint of rotting oranges, but other than that, it’s normal, like seasoned salt, charcoal, and oranges. 

“Wonderful first impression, really. She’s already thrilled to not have gotten to talk to you yet,” Oscar chimes in, and Lando groans, sending a withering glare in his direction that just bounces off of the Australian. “Now you just get to improvise your way through a panel about how excited you are to be working with her.”

“I don’t even know who she is!” Lando finally barks, his scent turning a bit panicked. It’s like a thunderstorm and a hot, dry heat, smelling how burnt food tastes.

“Mate, you’re fucking kidding me—,” Oscar starts, only to be interrupted by a polite cough behind Lando. 

“She is right behind you, Mr. Norris,” The voice is monotone. Icy. Damn near robotic. And he knows it immediately because you’re the current star of most engineering circles around the grid and the damn talk of every single person they’d interviewed to replace Will when it became clear Lando needed a change. You’d managed to pull decency and consistent points into Williams of all teams. It baffles him, honestly. How you’d managed that, he has no idea, but he assumes it’s through pure spite and fury.

You’re styled elegantly, with a tailored set of pleated, pale gray slacks and a cozy-looking, chunky knit black sweater, tucked into the top of your pants. Black dress shoes. Somehow, the slacks don’t even look bulky, cinching high on your waist, and it’s flattering how slimming the entire outfit is, despite all the known laws of fashion saying that this shouldn’t be such a flattering look. The neck of the sweater is in a mock style, clearly giving the statement of a private individual, hiding any possible claiming bonds. Your hair is in a perfectly messy but neat braid down your back, with two long pieces pulled from the top to slightly frame your face. 

So plain. But elegant.

Everything about you sets Lando off a bit. And he doesn’t know why. But you just tilt your head at him. As if he’s some puzzle for you to fix. It doesn’t help that he can’t get even a trace of your scent. Only the sterile odor that came with cleaning supplies and medicine. Almost like you’re on heavy medications or that you sleep in a hospital. It unnerves him. Lando’s heard a few rumors that you’re an alpha, and that you simply want to smell that way so as to not be assigned a certain stereotype or intimidate anyone.

After all, word on the grid was you left Williams because of how they’d handled the situation between the other race engineer and the anonymous omega colleague who’d been assaulted. 

So you at least had morals. 

“Oscar had mentioned you were…. A bit lax.” You murmur, icy eyes flicking up and down his form, your tone impassive and your stance closed off. “I hadn’t imagined you would be this bad, though.” 

“I’m actually quite good, normally.” 

“About checking your email and phone? Or should I put a tracker on you?” 

“Hilarious.” 

“I’m aware I am.” You say so dryly, so bluntly, that Lando feels one of his eyes twitch as a stylist manages to help pull him together to look somewhat presentable using the wardrobes saved. You just talk softly with Oscar the entire time, a fond look in your eyes as you talk to the Omega driver. 

Right. Logan. Oscar. You’d been Logan’s engineer before. You’d probably gotten to know Oscar through that. When Lando’s finally presentable enough, the stylist makes a final adjustment to your outfit by quickly weaving an orange ribbon around the end of your braid. 

“...I will not be wearing this when I am working,” you examine the ribbon, frowning. “You’re lucky to have me in this now.”

“What, don’t like papaya?”

“No. Red is better.” You just murmur, still frowning at the ribbon, before letting it go. “Vati won in red. All three times.”

“Well, change is inevitable,” Lando fakes a sigh, and this makes you scowl. “I like the orange better, anyway.”

“You’ve yet to win, anyway,” You dismiss his comment with a simple wave of your hand, and go to follow Zak out onto the stage, leaving Lando a bit baffled. Oscar just snickers, patting him on the back and leaving the Brit scrambling to follow the both of you. 

The press conference goes immaculately. You’re the darling of the media, who seem to love how dry you are with every single answer. Just like Niki had been, even when you border on insulting most of the journalists asking the question. You look about ready to choke yourself with the wire of the microphone in front of you when someone asks you your opinion on Rush. 

“She thinks McLaren looked better in red,” Lando grins, looking at you with a mischievous grin. 

“McLaren had more wins in red.” You say bluntly, causing laughter to erupt. Lando’s ears turn pink. “We shall see if that is to change.”

He’s quiet for the rest of the press conference, until…

“Any statement on why you left Williams?”

You go rigid. Just for a second. And from where you sit beside him, Lando catches just the tiniest scent of anxiety on you, under all the sterile, medicinal odor that permeates the air around you. 

“....I thought that was obvious,” You mumble into the mic, before clearing your throat. “I, ah, don’t take kindly to anyone— especially someone who was considered my partner— trying to take advantage of someone. So.” 

There’s a tremor to your voice, barely detectable. And under the table, you’re squeezing your knee. Your hand shakes as the question repeats in your mind. Any statement on why you left Williams? The crowd is suddenly not safe. As he looks at you from every face, every set of eyes now staring at you, even when you know he’s not there. There’d been heightened security, Andrea and Zak had promised that. Oscar was here, already with a nest in his private suite at the factory, prepared for you to crash in when the press conference was over. You try to speak, to play the part of the stoic Alpha the grid has assigned to you, but your tongue is dry in your mouth. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement in the back of the crowd. Your hindbrain croons, and you feel yourself fighting off the urge to turn canine, to simply burst from the stage and run towards where you know is safe. He’s not there, Zak promised. He will never be anywhere near you again. 

You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe—

“What a stupid fucking question,” Lando blurts out, a snarl in his voice. “It’s obvious why she left. She has morals and doesn’t tolerate that kind of shit. Ask a proper question or fuck off,” 

Zak calls an end to the press conference quickly after, and you make your way off stage quickly, retching into a trashcan the moment you’re hidden from the cameras and watching eyes. Oscar is beside you, stroking your back, trying to comfort you, as he had that first night, curled beside you in your own nest while Logan sits on guard at the entrance to the room. Making sure that he won’t be there to find you. Even when he is being held by the FIA and local authorities for investigation, and Niki is already on a private jet to make sure you’re okay. You’re not in the hotel room in the UAE, you’re in Woking. 

“Fucking stupid twats,” Lando spits, as he walks off stage, and nearly misses the fact that you’re puking. It’s almost comical how he does a double take, and scrambles over to you. “Shit, are you good?”

“No,” you say dryly, head still in the trash can. “But— thank you, for your defense.” 

“Yeah— I— I’m assuming you knew, the omega. The one affected, I mean.” Lando babbles, and it dawns on you briefly that Lando doesn’t know. 

The only people who do know are just Zak and Andrea— it’d been a big part of the negotiations around you being hired— and of course, Oscar, who you’d called the first night after presenting. You’re partially thankful for that, because then it means that even fewer know your designation. He really hadn’t checked any of his emails. 

“You could say that.” You mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Oscar’s partially frozen, until he just continues to comfort you, wordlessly understanding that you don’t want to tell Lando. “We— we were close.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please pass the message on that what they experienced— fuck, man, it’s fucking inexcusable—” Lando runs a hand through his curls, clearly stressed by the entire incident that had just happened at the press conference. So you keep your mouth shut, and clap him on the shoulder. Trying to act like the Beta or Alpha he thinks you are. 

“Enough about that. They’re— they got rewarded enough money to retire. They’re doing fine. Good therapist. Good house. Service dog to keep them safe.”

Your voice sounds so empty, but it’s not a lie. You’d been given enough money to quit nearly three times over. And you’d used it to start the search for a service dog that could help you with deep pressure therapy and watch your back in the garage. You’d needed a new one anyway, after your old dog had to be retired around a year ago. You’d needed one, doctor’s orders, to help you with you nearly-destroyed sense of smell, and the fact that you’re now deaf in one ear. 

“That’s—that’s good, at least,” Lando mumbles, but he doesn’t look convinced. 

An awkward silence stretches between you and the driver for what feels like hours, but is likely only seconds. He’s unconvinced. You know it. Oscar knows it. But frankly, Lando seemed to understand that questioning you right now is the least of his concerns. 

“What about a tour of the factory?” Oscar buts in, killing the silence just when you feel like you have to say something. Always the peacekeeper. Always the savior. “It could— could give you time to get to know each other.”

“No time for that, unfortunately,” Zak interrupts softly, uncharacteristic of his normal behavior. He refrains from touching you at all. Which you can’t help but be thankful for— already so different from Williams, and the disconnected behavior of the board. 

Had he heard the conversation? Did he understand what you were trying to pass off to Lando, at least for the time being? A glance in his direction as you brush yourself off reveals nothing. 

“Time for… a quick meeting. Just to get to know everyone better.” 

“I want to be there,” Oscar looks at the CEO, just as Andrea rejoins the group, looking a bit exhausted, after dealing with what would likely be a bit of a PR issue. 

“You were going to anyway.” Andrea sighs, rubbing his temple. “Shall we?” And you're whisked into a spacious conference room, decorated with the portraits of champions and drivers all around you.

McLaren is…. Interesting. Leagues different from Williams, as you’ve come to realize. It seems that every step further into the orange-hued team leads you further to this conclusion. It’s mostly discussions of the next month’s schedule, as it heads into the new year of testing before the season starts. You look at the calendar, making notes varying from calling Lando to be sure he’s awake at least two hours before anything starts, to avoid any issue like today happening, to then buying a mini fridge for your office to keep your food. 

“And about this morning,” Lando says bashfully, smiling at you in a way that shows he’s used to getting away with things like that, “Won’t happen again. My phone was dead, and—”

“Correct, it won’t happen again.” You say bluntly, and look at him over your laptop, before closing it. Inadvertently, your claws come out, and you start to pick at the edge of the table. An old nervous tick you've never gotten rid of. “It was unacceptable, and shows a severe lack of discipline on your part.” 

The table goes silent. Oscar is clearly trying not to laugh. Andrea and Zak look surprised by your chilly tone. 

“I mean, I suppose,” Lando says, frowning a bit at how blunt you are. 

“There is no ‘I suppose’, there is the truth.” You lean forward over the table to look at him. “Do you want to be a world champion, Lando Norris?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then start acting like it. You’re not the youngest on the grid anymore.” Your claw scratches against the edge of the table again, leaving a faint mark. “I’ll talk to your trainer after this. You’re going to do extra conditioning for every tardy arrival to a meeting, practice, whatever, starting with this morning.”

“That seems a bit much,” Andrea starts, but Zak lets out a low whistle. Almost impressed. 

“You’re treating him like a football coach would.”

“I’m treating him as he should be. He is an athlete. He represents a team. Such actions can reflect poorly.”

“It was one time!” Lando protests.

“Was it?” You challenge, raising an eyebrow. Lando has to stop himself from growling, reminding himself he must be civil. “Was it just a one-time occurrence last season, Andrea?”

Lando bites his lower lip. You’re much stricter than Will had ever been. Andrea just holds up his hands, looking back at him with an apologetic gaze while you prompt him to answer. 

“I admit… things have been a bit relaxed as of late,” The team principal scratches the back of his head, and you make a little tutting noise, before turning to look at Lando again. 

“Then we’re fixing it.” 

A long pause settles. And you start again.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, and icy eyes that challenge even the famous death stare of your sire. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say what you were going to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks. 

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissyfit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?” 

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated. 

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else. 

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icily calm. 

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or speaking to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you speak. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With that classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth. 

“Fine then.”

You push yourself up easily, and stand, looking down at him. 

“Firstly, you are incredibly arrogant. You take risks without properly considering the chances of failure. Whenever you do inevitably end up in a lower place than your high-and-mighty ass thinks you deserve, you then take it out on everyone but yourself, when it’s solely your own decisions getting you there.”

You take a deep breath in, and he can hear the rattle of it in your throat as you start to walk around the table towards him as if you’re stalking your prey. Glaring all the while. Eyes glowing in the light. Andrea has his head in his hands behind you.

“Furthermore, you’ve yet to win a single race. Just one. You are not a world champion because you’re a fan favorite and show extreme promise. Everyone is here because they showed promise at one point or another. You’re a brat of a driver with an ego boosted by all of the people who want to get into your pants and the fact that these fuckers,” You snarl when you whip your hand out to point to Zak and Andrea, who at least have the decency to look a bit ashamed, “…don’t discipline you enough.”

And then you stop, and pull him up by the collar so fast that he gets whiplash, looking you right in your eyes, and can see the angry, mottled skin of severe scarring just hidden under the concealer on your face. Zak still seems to be reeling from the comment you made about how soft they are on Lando, and the way that you’re bristling for a fight.

“Thirdly. You’re a fucking jackass who’s mad someone got called over here to stop your ass from having another hissyfit while being interviewed. I hope the food from the races this year gives you explosive diarrhea from all the spices.”

With that, you let go of his collar and storm out of the room, screaming in German the entire way out, while slamming the door behind you.

Andrea only groans, looking at Lando from between his fingers, while Zak has his head against the table. Oscar has his hands tightly threaded in his hair. But then you come storming back in, with something in your hand. Lando just barely manages to swat it out of the way, and listens to it hit the ground, sounding like an empty can.

And you throw your hands in the air. “Oh, so you can react when a Red Bull is suddenly coming at you! Now do it with the fucking car, dipshit!”

Lando feels his eye twitch once. Twice. And then he’s throwing the crinkled can right back at you, the two of you screaming at each other in two separate languages while Andrea pushes himself between you two, with Zak trying his best to mediate the situation. Oscar looks like he would rather be anywhere else than between the two of you, eyes straight to the center of the table when you’re both finally separated. His scent is sour and awkward. Lando’s smells of burnt rubber. Your teeth are still bared, scent hidden. And that somehow makes Lando angrier.

“Never insult my voice again,” You hiss at Lando, eyes burning as the Brit sits in the chair while you stay standing. Oscar is holding tightly to his shoulder, the omega’s fingers digging into his skin. “I’ll gut you like a fucking fish if you do.” 

The faintest trace of an American accent makes Lando’s head spin, as he watches you leave, stalking out of the room. And Zak looks at Lando, jaw hanging loose. “Uh. I think… I think we need a five-minute break.” Zak mumbles, looking a bit disturbed, before leaving to go talk to you. Lando just stands there, feeling his anger fade as Oscar slowly approaches him. Andrea has gone after Zak.

"Mate," The omega's voice trembles, with shock or rage, he isn't entirely sure which one, "What the fuck?"

tags: @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @st0rmzi3

[simp-ly-writes]

The Comment Section (pt.2)

─────── · · A Social Media AU Fic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Commenters are starting to get more and more worked up the longer you and Spencer grow apart.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, angst, attempt at comedy, more angst, light swearing, fluff, mutual pinning.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART ONE | PART THREE | PART 3.5

─ · · A/N: thank you all seriously for the comments and support on the first part, hope you all enjoy this next one equally as much :)

─────── · ·

Super Smash Bros: Battle of the Chosen's

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 100k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 1.1M views 2 weeks ago click to expand

4,683 Comments

username97 2 weeks ago Dear Diary, its day 14 and there are still no videos of Spencer and (name) together. username05 2 weeks ago Always love the Shayne and Spencer duo, but can they go back to their partners now? username39 6 days ago When's the next episode of Bored AF?? username22 6 days ago Okay, but why haven't I seen (name) in any gaming channel videos lately? I haven't watched in a while, can someone get me caught up? ▼ 12 replies ↳ username66 5 days ago So Spencer didn't exactly explain to (name) that FNAF was not the simulation-type game or party/table-top that they are used to playing but a horror-simulation. (name) got really scared and then super annoyed at him and they haven't been seen together in videos since then. ↳ username69 2 days ago They're overreacting, has to be doing this for views or attention. No other explanation. ↳ username66 1 day ago (edited) (name) is their own person with their own emotions and friendships. In the field they work it intermingles with life and the lives of so many others in ways that people like us will never get to experience correctly. They are entitled to their own feelings and if they think Spencer broke their trust somehow- they can act however they want however right or wrong that appears to others. ↳ username69 1 days ago Well maybe you both should just grow the eff up and shut the h*ll up. ↳ username01 1 day ago Maybe you should do the same username69? Can't even swear like a real fucking adult. username51 just now And so the Chosen Universe Lore expands... username81 just now first.

─────── · ·

Guess That Smosh Skit!

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 62k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 477k views 2 weeks ago click to expand

2,199 Comments

⚲ Pinned by Creator SmoshGames ✓ 2 weeks ago Both new and old shows are coming soon, what are you hoping to see next? ▼ 765 replies ↳ username01 2 weeks ago Tell Spencer to buy (name) flowers, on theirs hands and knees begging, or write them a card- anything!!! ↳ username33 1 hour ago Spencer and (name) recreate famous ********** scenes. * [this comment has been censored for interfering with Youtube's Community Guidelines; for more information press HERE] ↳ username39 6 days ago BORED AF PLEASEEEEE. username20 1 hour ago Please, please, please bring Olivia back more, her small mutterings always have me rolling on the floor XD username24 3 hour ago I 100% forgot about the Every [Blank] Ever series! So good to see bits of it again! username55 2 weeks ago Anyone else keep rewatching old videos and fan-edits of (yourshipname)? I'm gonna keep acting like nothing ever happened like some other people...

─────── · ·

my favorite (name) and spencer moments :)

(Yourshipname) Updates [Subscribe] Like | Dislike | Share | ... 1.12K subscribers 217k views 3 years ago click to expand

999 Comments

⚲ Pinned by Creator (yourshipname)updates ✓ 2 weeks ago Thank you for all the support on this video recently! I wish it didn't have to come from this though... P-P username55 2 weeks ago Even before they both appeared on camera officially, there are so many background clips of them sitting together, sharing food and vacations in pictures, even pet-sitting?? Like c'mon, theres only so much a girl can take (╥﹏╥) username11 30 minutes ago This comment section is for our collective tears ಥ_ಥ username09 just now 19:45 My favorite clip ever of them, its so soft. Spencer with his eyes closed as (name) fixes their hair in the background of TNTL behind the screen. They're so effortless with one another... username03 1 week ago Lets make a thread! Post your favourite (yourshipname) moments underneath this comment! ▼ 173 replies ↳ username97 1 hour ago Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. ↳ username66 2 days ago (name) being so excited over beating an Elden Ring Boss on stream that she runs and kisses Spencer on the cheek before brake dancing in the background while Spencer stares blankly at the camera, cheeks red and eyes wide. MWAHAHHAHA ↳ username04 just now Would have to be (name) dropping the burrito under the table and Spencer placing his hand above their head so they don't hurt themselves 𓏗ᵕ𓏗 ↳ username02 3 days ago 2022 Truck Simulator: Spencer, hand on their knee driving. It is my kryptonite. ↳ username15 1 hour ago (name) dancing with and twirling Spencer after Smosh the Sitcom. I want it as a GIF and framed. ↳ username11 4 days ago Has anyone mentioned their San Diego panel together? That whole hour is surreal, the head resting on shoulders, gripping one another in laughter, holding hands- speaking into the mic at the same time. OR HOW THEY WERE WALKING THE FLOOR TOGETHER IN MATCHING COSPLAY AFTER. ↳ username06 1 hour ago Darts and how they acted like one another. ↳ username32 30 minutes ago 27:49 Chosen Spencer pinning (name) to the wall during that interrogation bit changed my brain chemistry. ↳ username03 just now Wow, this is most responses I've ever received- thank you everyone!! ↳ username17 15 minutes ago 17:12 Them taking a power nap together at the same desk. username33 just now How have we entered a new era of how every "Where's Anthony?" is now a "Where's Spencer/(name)???"

─────── · ·

It's Awkward... (Who Meme'd It?)

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 62k | Dislike | Share | ... 8.29M subscribers 565k views 1 week ago click to expand

5,199 Comments

username08 1 hour ago That meme coming from Ian was wild! ▼ 199 replies ↳ username87 30 minutes ago 16:16 Dog in Burning House: "Spencer when (name) doesn't want to play games with him - "this is fine, I am fine"" XDDD ↳ username02 20 minutes ago I would have never expected Ian to make that meme out of the list. ↳ username44 5 minutes ago IKR!? Like up against Alex, Courtney, and Trevor? No wonder no one picked him for it. ↳ username87 just now But we all are forgetting the best clip after: 17:12 Spencer proceeded to slip off his chair and hide underneath the table while Amanda was screaming defence and pointing fingers at the crowd. Has to be in the top 50 moments of all time. ↳ username44 just now YES! I love how the whole cast was AFTER THEM. They live for their relationship just like us. <3 username24 3 hour ago The editing team needs to be spotlighted more, BC all their memes were straight fire!!! username08 1 week ago You know when Shayne is hosting that its gonna be a good video ▼ 8 replies ↳ username97 5 days ago Doesn't Shayne already host most of the videos? ↳ username08 5 days ago That was the point- all the videos are good...

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: want a part 3 anyone? what do you want to see happen next?

[shelbgrey]

✨Pookie Bear✨

I’m watching more Bridgerton episodes😏🫣 could you perchance conjure me up a absolutely down bad foaming at the mouth steamy Anthony fic 🤤☺️

The feeling of nature (Anthony Bridgerton)

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Warrings: SMUT, choking kink, rough sex, slight public sex(no one sees or hears), fucking against a tree, possession kink? Unprotected sex.

MasterList ML2

Anthony and I were in the midst of silent treatment after an argument. This was when our pettiness really showed, we'd stay silent and at the same time tease each other till the other one cracks.

Tonight was no different even when our usual family dinner rolls around the corner. The family could sense something happened, but didn't bat an eye. They were used to us being childish towards each other and they stopped asking what happened because we'd just call it another ‘incident’.

It was still eerily silent at the table. It was until Benedict made a comment “Anthony what did you do to y/n?”

Anthony coughs on his wine and then looks at me from across the table, waiting for a smart-ass comment. I didn't say anything though which made Anthony roll his eyes.

Anthony’s mother, Violet, frowns. We have always been so fond of each other, her being such an amazing mother figure and also taking my side in most situations involving my husband. It was no surprise her facial expression is disapproving of Anthony's coldness. “I don't understand why you taunt y/n so much”

An amused smirk appears on Anthony’s lips. “I promise nothing serious happened, mother. Just a small inconvenience”

“If you want to call it that,” I reached under the table and placed my hand on the inside of his thigh and squeezed it teasingly to get a rise out of him. I felt Anthony tenses. He’s trying to be calm and put together. His hand moved under the table, gently wrapping his fingers around my wrist to stop me from going up any further.

“Seriously, what happened?” Benedict asked.

“Ask your dimwitted brother,” I told him. I was comfortable enough with the Bridgerton family that I could say things like that.

Benedict nearly snorts, trying to hold back a laughter behind his hand. Penelope lets out a small laugh, and Colin laughs loudly.

Anthony looks at me with a glare. “Watch yourself love. I’m still your husband.”

“Oh! He speaks” I said in a sarcastic, surprised tone which earned me another glare from Anthony while his entire family laughed.

He leaned in, his breath hot against my neck. “Keep it up and you’ll pay for it later, love.” He mutters in my ear.

“Oh, will I?” I slid my hand up his thigh higher, rubbing him through his pants. His hand quickly grabbed mine, tightening around my wrist.

“Damnit, not now.” Anthony grunts. Everyone is in a cheerful mood laughing and chatting, meanwhile Anthony is struggling hard. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning when my hand went higher.

my hand inched up high to where the button of his pants were, I was about to test my luck when Elois spoke up. “how about a game of pall mall after dinner?”

“That's a good idea” I said, subtly brushing my fingers over his groin through his pants from under the table.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful” Anthony grunts, trying to sound normal. He catches my hand, before I can do it again with a glint in his eyes.

“Ready to lose again, darling?” I asked, not really being specific on what he was gonna lose too.

Anthony’s face turns a shade darker. He knew exactly what I was implying, he always knew and he wasn't happy about it. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure.

Not phased by the warning in his eyes, I put pressure on his clothed cock, rubbing him harder when I felt him growing harder under my palm while he tried to maintain his dignity. He can barely breathe as I felt his arousal growing by the second under my palm. He squeezes my hand warningly, but it only seems to make him grow harder.

“Perhaps we should go out and start the game before it gets dark,” Colin suggested. I gave Anthony a gentle squeeze then released my hand from his lap when everyone started to get up from the table.

I watched Anthony reluctantly stand up, adjusting himself discreetly as he followed everyone out to the lawn. He can barely think straight with the ache in his groin. He glances back at me, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and desire. He mouths a silent warning, but he knows it’s useless.

I smiled at him, faking my innocents in the situation as we followed the rest of the family outside. I found arousing the way he clenches his jaw, trying to calm himself down while giving me a look that said he didn't know if he wanted to strangle me or kiss me. I wouldn't be disappointed either way.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

We went out to the lawn and the siblings were arguing over the mallets like usual. Anthony watches the argument unfold, I feel his gaze flicking back to me every so often. He’s finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the game as he tries to ignore the throbbing in his cock. He sighs in annoyance.

I got tired of the arguing and playfully shoved my way in between Colin and Benedict. “as the future viscountess I shall pick the mallet first.” Before any of my in-laws could protest I snatched the black mallet aka the 'mallet of death'. It was also Anthony's lucky mallet and the one he often threatened to break fingers for. I gave Anthony a smirk and rested it on my shoulder.

Anthony’s eye twitches, watching me claim his lucky mallet. He crosses his arms over his chest, his stance widening as he leans back on his heels. “You’re playing with fire, love” He growls under his breath, loud enough for only me to hear.

I sighed softly and nodded, faking sympathy. “this is your favorite one after all” I held it out for him.

Anthony hesitates for a moment, his eyes locked on the mallet. I could tell it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to snatch it back. He reaches out…

I quickly snatched it back before he could touch it “oop, too slow... I'm using the mallet of death” I turned my back and walked to the first mark, leaving the pink mallet for Anthony.

Anthony’s face turns a shade darker as he watches me walk away with his precious mallet. He looks at the pink mallet in his hand, his jaw clenched in frustration.

I made a point to stand in front of him when it was my turn. Moving my hips more, intentionally teasing him as I took my shot. I could feel Anthony's eyes locked on my body, his control slipping, the heat in his chest and groin growing more intense by the second. He grits his teeth, his hand tightening around the pink mallet.

I hit my ball and it rolled, going through the first mark, gaining me a point. I smirked at Anthony and walked past him, making a point to brush my hand over his hip, making his breath hitch. “Your turn darling” I teased as I walked over and stood next to Benedict.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as he steps up to take his shot. His form is slightly off, his frustration making him careless.

“Oh, you missed” Colin chuckled.

Anthony glares at Colin, then at me. “This is your fault,” he growls under his breath. He watches as Benedict takes his turn, his eyes narrowed, his expression stormy. When it's finally my turn again, he stalks over.

I kept In mind one of the rules that allowed us to play dirty. Before Anthony made it over to me, I used my ball and hit Anthony's deep into the garden and far away from the next mark. Anthony's eyes widen in outrage as he watches his ball fly across the garden, completely useless now. He whipped his head towards me, his face red. “You little-” He starts, but is cut off.

“Play it where it lies, brother” Benedict snickered.

Anthony's jaw clenches, his hand gripped his mallet. He knows he can't protest, not when Benedict is reminding him of the rules. With a snarl, he turns and marches across the garden, his long legs carrying him quickly towards his stray ball.

Me and Benedict laughed. Then it was Colin's turn. My smirk dropped when the sneaky bastard launched my ball in the same direction as Anthony's “Damnit, colin!” I groaned, marching in the same direction Anthony was, looking for my ball.

As I entered the back of the garden me and him spotted my ball at the same time. He smirked and deliberately stepped on it, hiding it beneath his boot. He looks up, seeing the annoyance in my eyes.

“Give me the ball” I sighed.

Anthony raises an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He leans down and picks up my ball, holding it just out of reach. “I think not,” he says smoothly. “You'll have to pay the price for your earlier transgressions.”

“What? Can't handle a little teasing?” I asked in a challenging tone.

Anthony's face darkens, his expression dark and daring. “You know that's not the issue,” he growls. “Now, come and get the ball if you dare”

Not backing down, I march over to him leaving very little space between us. I gave him a daring glare, ignoring the fact he easily towered over me.

Anthony's eyes flash dangerously, a fire igniting within him. He holds his gaze with mine, his grip tightening around my ball. “Last chance to back down”

“Never”

Anthony's eyes had a hint of admiration in his before they go dark with desire. “Very well,” he murmurs. Throws the ball to who knows where and wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me off the ground as My legs wrapped around his waist. my hands weaved through the dark locks of his hair as our lips locked against each other roughly and hungrily.

Anthony groans as His strong arms wrap around my thighs, holding me up with ease as he deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue across my bottom lip.

I teased him, denying his tongue entry. Anthony groaned, carrying me towards a nearby tree, his kisses growing more demanding and possessive as. He reaches the tree and presses my body against the trunk, his body pinning mine in place. “Open your mouth, y/n,” he commands, his voice husky with desire. “Now.”

I moaned, my lips parting as my back pressed against the tree. Anthony doesn't waste his opportunity, his tongue wrestling with mine in a heated battle. I moaned against his lips as he pressed me harder against the tree, his free hand reaching up to wrap around my throat, applying just enough pressure to remind me who was in charge. He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against my lips. “Mine,”

I gripped his hair and grinded against him, making Anthony's hand tightens slightly around my throat. He held me in place against the tree with his free hand. He grinds his hips against mine, the hardness of his erection pressing against me. “Look at me,” he demands, his voice low and commanding.

My eyes shot up, my breath hitched and my heart pounded against my chest. Anthony's eyes bore into mine, his face inches away as he grinds against our hips together once more. “Say it,” he growls. “Tell me you're mine.” His hand around my throat flexes gently, forcing a moan from my lips.

“Make me” I dared.

The word barely left my lips before Anthony's grip on my throat tightens. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear, making me shiver as he spoke in a dangerous whisper. “As you wish, my love”

I let out a squeal at the unexpected moment, he turned me around, making me face the tree. I placed my hands on the wood, bracing myself as I felt his hard cock press against my ass. Anthony's hands run down my arms. “Keep your hands here,” he orders, his voice low and authoritative. He trails his fingers down my back and up my thighs, his hand removing the lower half of my clothes. “And no more talking back”

“No promises” I said breathlessly.

Anthony growls softly against my neck, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he quickly unbuttoned his pants. He pushes them down enough for his cock to slip out. His hands then glided down over my backside. He grips my hips tightly, pulling my body back against his. “No more words”

I moaned softly, my head falling back against his shoulder, pleasure shooting through my body. Anthony's hips begin to move, his thick cock thrusting into me as he grinded against my ass. He groans as he fucks me against the tree, forcing moans and other sounds to leave my mouth. His hand leaves my hip to reach around and wrap around my throat, applying just enough pressure to keep me silent. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.

“A-Anthony” I moaned desperately, my breath quickened and my brain went blank as I felt every inch of him push in and out at a ruthless, intoxicating pace.

His grip on my throat tightens, muffling my desperate moans as he continues to pound into me against the tree. His breath is hot against my neck, his voice a low growl as he speaks. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is low, commanding, demanding an answer.

“Y-you” I moaned softly.

“That's right, love.” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust. As the pleasure builds within him, Anthony loosens his grip on my throat, letting me breathe again as he continues to push into me with an almost ruthless momentum.

I moaned louder, reaching behind me and tugging at his hair when he buried his face into my neck and bucked his hips forward with increased urgency. “You like that, love?” He hisses, his voice tight with restraint. “You like when I bury myself inside you?”

“Fuck!” I moaned desperately, the bark of the tree digging into my skin as he thrusted harder against me, caging me in between the piece of nature and his body. “yes!”

Anthony grunts, his hips grinding against mine as he fills my entrance up completely. The bark of the tree digging deeper into my skin. I didn't care, what Anthony was doing felt way too good to stop. I arch my back into Anthony's hard body.

“A-Anthony!” I moaned desperately. I couldn't think of anything but him, the knot in my stomach tightened. “I'm c-close” my breath hitched and arched my hips back against him.

Anthony's arms wrap around me tightly, his hands gripping my hips possessively as he pistons in and out, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the air. “Come for me, y/n,” he growls, his voice laced with dominance. “Show me who you belong to”

“Anthony!” the control I had snapped, my eyes fluttered closed and my head fell back in pleasure against his shoulder as my climax hit me like a train.

“Fuck, Darling” Anthony groans loudly, his hips snapping forward as he chases after his own release. My body clenched around him,making him shudder and groan with pleasure as he emptied himself inside me.

His arms tighten around me as I relax against his body. Anthony continues to thrust into me a few more times, milking the last bits of pleasure from both of us. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “Mine” he murmurs possessively.

“Y-yours” I moaned softly.

Anthony presses a soft kiss against my neck. I let out a small moan as he slowly pulled out. His hands gently turned my body around and steadied me when I felt my legs threaten to give out. He cups my face, kissing me deeply before pressing his forehead against mine. “You okay, love?” His voice is soft now, gentle. He brushes my hair from my face, his touch tender. “Not too rough?” He asks, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“No, it was perfect” I smiled lazily.

Anthony's lips tugged into a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good.” He leans in, gently kissing me, before resting his forehead against mine once more. His hand tightened around my waist. “Shall we head back now?”

“Probably should... Before they come looking for us” I said softly.

Anthony chuckles darkly. “True. Wouldn't want them to find out what we've been up to.” He takes my hand, helping me straighten out my clothes before leading me back towards the back yard where the family was finishing the game, his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders.

[anim-ttrpgs]

A big part of Eureka is splitting the party. Normally games are loathe to do this because of the potential to bore players while they passively watch others play the game. I'm curious how you deal with this when you run Eureka. Sending players away seems like it could make it either better or worse. Like if it's at a home, people can go hang out by the snack table and drink and chat, but that doesn't work as well at, say, a game store. I'm curious how people felt about having to leave the game several times.

While the risk of boring the players or putting too much stress on the GM is a real concern, the addage of "don't split the party" actually originated in the TSR D&D era, where splitting the party made them weak and vulnerable to all sorts of situations that would be less of a problem for a full strength party, However, for a game like Eureka that produces more conventional narratives (everyone take note that I did not say that Eureka produces more narrative or is "more focused on narrative", just more conventional narratives) and has more of a focus on intrigue and horror, the party splitting up to cover more ground and collect more clues in the limited time they have to solve the mystery, but also making each one of them more vulnerable if something happens, is an actual trade-off that can improve the gameplay and story.

First of all, besides it just being really entertaining, I really recommend you listen to the Tiny Table Actual Play of Eureka. It has some really good examples of splitting the party and sending players away that are executed really well, and also some good discussion of it in the post-mortem episode and the interview.

I’m going to answer the ask directly from my own gameplay experience, but I really really urge anyone who has played Eureka to comment with their own experiences with splitting the party and sending players away.

Alright, so, obviously how long players are willing to wait their turn is group-dependent, but with our own group, we’ve actually kinda had the opposite problem from players getting bored. Instead, Narrator and the players whose characters are currently in the spotlight start to worry that they’re selfishly hogging too much session time, and try to rush the scene along (to its great detriment), when in reality the players who were sitting out were happy to keep waiting. Realizing this led to us altering the advice regarding splitting the party in the rulebook, and actually recommending the Narrator go a little longer before switching to the other characters.

I personally am happy to wait up to like 90 minutes if my character is out of the scene, because I have faith in my group and also in Eureka that the payoff for waiting will be that much greater, seeing the characters relay what they have learned while they were apart in dialogue rather than the player just saying “My investigator tells them everything that happened.” It really heightens the tension, lets the characters shine, and can even really help with solving the mystery, because having the events and evidence recounted out loud can help with making connections that might have gone over people’s heads the first time.

Of course like the rulebook says, it also comes to the judgement of the play group as a whole, and should definitely be discussed beforehand basically as part of session zero, and even mid-session if it needs to be. (Communicate your preferences to your play group!!!!!) There’s plenty of scenes and situations where having the other players leave the room instead of sitting and watching would add nothing at all to the experience.

Now I want to hear other people’s opinions. If you have played Eureka and had a party split where some players left the room or otherwise excused themselves, how did it go?

[babysukiii]

fallingforyou (3)

// lottie matthew’s does not like you. you’re annoying, preppy, and way too nice. lottie doesn’t fail to show you time after time just how much she hates you. you finally get the message and steer clear of her, until senior year, when you both get paired up for a science project. //

warnings: asshole!lottie, sweet!reader, pining, mutual pining, oblivious!reader, hints of underage drinking, lowkey jealous lottie if you squint, lottie is an idiot

(this is part 3, you can read part 2 here, and part 1 here)

on this night and in this light (i think i’m falling)

“don’t you think we should be, i don’t know, actually working?” lottie questions sardonically, and you turn your head to scowl at her from where you’re laying on the rug in your room. a new episode of sabrina the teenage witch was playing and you were excitedly watching it. “shut up! sabrina is talking!” you hiss warningly, causing the yellowjackets sweeper to roll her eyes in annoyance, while you turn your gaze back to the tv. “why didn’t you tell me you were going to be doing this the whole time? i would’ve just gone home.” it’s a blatant lie, but you don’t know that, and lottie doesn’t want to tell you otherwise.

you scoff, “yeah, sure. after the way you acted when i cancelled yesterday? you’re stuck here now.” the comment is supposed to annoy lottie, but it doesn’t. it doesn’t annoy her at all, the thought of being stuck here with you. lottie blinks rapidly, trying to shove that thought so far away, she’ll never have to deal with it again. “you don’t like sabrina?” you ask, gesturing to the tv, and lottie shakes her head. “i don’t really watch tv.” she mutters her response, making you furrow your brows and laugh lightly. “seriously? aren’t your parents loaded? i thought you’d have a huge theater where you watch all your favorite shows and movies.” you tease her, causing her to glower in your direction.

“you thought wrong.” she retorts, but there’s something in her tone that you can’t quite place. you can sense the shift in demeanor, but you don’t press the subject. lottie is like an animal you’re trying to tame. she could snap at any moment for any reason. you know lottie is like this for a reason; you can’t help but wonder if maybe her mother is just as angry as her. or perhaps her father has a temper. “well, either way… it’s been kind of nice having you over.” you start cautiously, and lottie looks over at you; her tenebrous gaze meeting yours.

“i just mean, i get lonely sometimes even though i’m here with my siblings all the time. it’s nice to have someone to spend time with.” you ramble, and lottie’s eyes seem to soften in a way you’ve never seen before. “i like being here with you too.” lottie says before she can think twice, taking not only herself by surprise, but you as well. a faint blush creeps onto your face, and lottie takes in how pretty you are. before either of you can say anything else, your older sister barges through your bedroom door, causing you to jump.

lottie looks annoyed at the intrusion, and she sends a scowl the older girls way. elise stares at you for a moment, furrowing her brows as she notices how flushed your cheeks are. she can nearly feel the tension in the room. “mom said dinners ready. she served your friend a plate.” the eighteen year old comments, flashing you a knowing look. you nod, “okay! be there in a minute.” you aimlessly respond, trying to keep your eyes away from your sisters. you do everything to stop blushing but it doesn’t seem to work. elise reluctantly leaves without saying anything else, and lottie clears her throat.

“i feel bad your mom has been setting an extra plate for me. i didn’t even ask if it was okay…” lottie trails off, insecurity laced throughout her tone. you shake your head quickly in protest, “my mom likes you! she thinks your nice, and she doesn’t mind.” you assure her, “besides, my dad always works super late so he never eats with us. there’s always an extra seat.” you ramble a bit, and lottie feels a bunch of mini starbursts in her chest; going off rapidly one by one. she swallows thickly, “thanks.” she doesn’t know what else to say and internally cringes at her response. you get up, flashing her a little grin that causes her belly to flip in an uncomfortable way.

“come on, matthew’s, before my mom gets pissed.” you taunt, waiting for her to get up from her seat on your bed. she follows you out of your room, chuckling slightly, “i can’t imagine your mom angry. she’s so tiny.” lottie makes you giggle, “trust me, she can be terrifying. have you ever heard that shorter people are more likely be evil because they’re close to hell?” your retort sounds serious, which makes it even more hilarious, and lottie can’t help but burst out laughing. you giggle as well, and you don’t even realize elise and your mother are staring at you both with inscrutable looks.

you and lottie aimlessly take a seat beside each other, and lottie smiles at your mother. “thank you, mrs. l/n. this smells delicious.” she says politely, and your mom offers her a smile. “you’re welcome, sweetheart. it’s carne asada, beans, and rice, y/n’s favorite.” she admits, and elise snickers, “basics just like her.” the older girl chimes in, and sabrina giggles while you flush. lottie looks at you, and she can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look when you blush. surely she’s notice how pretty you were before, but she can’t remember ever thinking about it. elise is the only one who is aware of the way lottie is looking at you.

“so mom… maria invited me to a get together at her sorority house. can i go after dinner?” elise asks hopefully, and your mom gets this skeptical look on her face. “a get together? at a sorority house?” she questions uncertainly, obviously not buying it. “yeah! it’s just a few of the girls! please mom?” the oldest teen asks, putting on her best puppy eyes. lisa quirks a brow challengingly, “then you wouldn’t mind taking y/n with you?” she asks, smiling in a condescending way. she obviously seems to know elise will refuse to bring you along. your eyes widen at the same time elise’s do.

“me!?”

“her!?”

you both respond to your mother at the same time, and lisa nods simply. “if it’s a get together, then you should have no problem with taking your sister. besides, when was the last time you two did anything together?” the older woman asks, and a glower etches itself onto elise’s features. “why can’t i go too!?” sabrina asks, pouting and clearly upset. “because you’re failing english, and need to study.” lisa pointedly responds, and elise huffs. “fine. i’ll take her, but she’s gonna be complaining the whole time!”

your eyebrows nearly meet your hairline, and you protest quickly. “i don’t wanna go! it’s friday night, and the last thing i wanna do is spend it with elise and a bunch of her weird friends!” you flash your mom a pair of begging eyes, “please don’t make me go.” lottie commends your mother for having the willpower to go against those eyes because damn, she feels her resolve slipping and the peculiar need to step in and protect you kicks in. “i can go with you guys. just so you’re not stuck there alone.” lottie offers, and your head turns to gaze at her.

you blink a few times, clearly confused as to why lottie matthew’s would want to spend a friday night with you. “but didn’t you get invited to becky martin’s bonfire?” you inquire, and lottie shrugs, “i wasn’t gonna go to that anyways.” she lies, but you seem to believe her because you flash her a grateful expression, “i mean if you really wanna be stuck with elise’s friends all night, then sure.” you half joke, making your older sister scoff. “my friends aren’t that bad! i mean at least i have more than three, unlike you!” she hisses, and you roll your eyes.

“ever heard of quality over quantity?” you sardonically retort, making lottie chuckle. elise narrows her eyes at you, “you’re so lucky moms forcing me to bring you.” she mutters, as she continues eating.

after dinner you and lottie head back to your room, and you’re a bit quieter than usual. “you don’t have to go just for my expense, you know? i know you were planning on being at that bonfire tonight.” you say softly, and lottie tenses up as you call her out. there’s no malice or anger in your tone, but lottie frowns. “if i wanted to go to that bonfire i would. i’m hanging with you tonight.” she responds adamantly, and the way you smile washes all of her doubts away.

“okay then, i guess i’ll start getting ready. you already look pretty, but we can stop by your house if you want to change?” you suggest and lottie shrugs, trying to ignore the sensations inside of her that she gets when you call her pretty. “i’ll just go like this. i mean, it’s just a bunch of elise’s lame friends. they’re probably just gonna talk about books and stuff.” she jokes, and you giggle, making her stomach get all knotted up again. god, she really hates that feeling.

throughout the entire way to the sorority house, lottie can’t help but occasionally steal a few glances at you. you had decided to wear a pair of tight black flare jeans, and a cropped fur coat that apparently belongs to elise. lottie wasn’t used to seeing you outside of your usual school clothes. you’d mostly wear jeans and sweaters; hiding every part of yourself. though tonight lottie had a hard time keeping her eyes off you. as soon as elise pulls into the parking lot of the campus, you can hear loud music in the distance.

your confusion only seems to grow as the music gets louder, the closer to the sorority house you all get. finally, your steps begin to falter when you realize you’re approaching a house with a few drunk students outside. someone was laying on the grass, and another person was holding her friends hair while she threw up in a bush. “elise this is not a get together! this is a frat party!” you exclaim angrily, as a large guy drunkenly stumbles past you guys. elise actually looks guilty for a moment, but the expression is quickly replaced by an angry one. “that’s why i didn’t want you to come! god, mom treats me like i’m a fucking kid! i’m eighteen; i should be allowed to have some fun.” she snaps, and you sigh.

“you should’ve just been honest with me. or snuck out like a normal person your age! now i’m stuck here!” you begin to argue with the older girl, who huffs in response. “yeah, cause being at a college frat party is every seventeen year olds worst nightmare. seriously, y/n, when was the last time you were even invited to a party?” elise sardonically asks, and you frown. “i’ve been to parties!” you internally cringe at how stupid you sound, and even lottie knows you’re lying. she’s only ever seen you at one party before, and even then you had left early.

elise shakes her head in dismay, “i bet you wouldn’t even know what to do at a place like this.” she challenges, and lottie frowns when she sees the determination on your features. “well, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?” you provoke her back, suddenly thinking about those new shoes you’ve been wanting for a month. elise lights up, and lottie thinks it’s the first time she’s ever seen her look so excited as she talks to you. “fine. if you can get a guy or two to dance with you, and actually let loose… i’ll buy you anything you want from the mall. under a hundred and twenty bucks.” she says and you nod in agreement. “deal.” you confirm, holding your hand out for your sister to shake.

lottie gets a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach as the three of you walk into the sorority house. immediately lottie is alert and aware of how many people there are in here; how crowded and dim-lit the house is. losing you here would be easy, and it’d take lottie forever to find you. elise ditches you as soon as she sees her friends, and lottie hates that she’s thinking about what it’d be like if she didn’t come. you’d be stuck here, alone.

“at least they’re playing good music.” you comment, noticing an upbeat spanish song was playing. lottie’s cheeks turn a shade of crimson red as she flushes timidly. “i failed spanish class last year… i think i’m doing really bad in french too this year.” she reveals and you let out this tinkling laugh that causes her to stare at you. she takes in how you look under this lighting; your hair was clipped back in a half updo, but it was still curled in this carefree way that made lottie think you looked absolutely beautiful. she glances away, trying to think of anything but that.

“it’s okay, i suck at french. i only passed spanish class because it was my first language.” you tell her, and she smiles at the admission, “i don’t think i’ll ever be able to learn another language, it’s like my head just can’t grasp anything other than english. spanish is sexy though.” lottie blurts out, and you raises your eyebrows in a bit of amusement as her cheeks burn in humiliation. she has no idea why she just said that.

“here you go pretty ladies. you two look like you needed a drink.” a deep voice intervenes, as you look to see a tall frat boy handing you both cups. lottie speaks before you can even think about it, grabbing your hand, and grasping it firmly. her grip sends a jolt of electricity down your body, and you lose all train of thought as soon as she touches you. “we’re good, thanks though.” she says in that usual not-so-kind voice before pulling you away. “hey! i’m supposed to be getting guys like that to dance with me if i want to win the bet!” you argue, pouting as lottie begins to look for the drink station. she rolls her eyes, making a face of clear disdain at the fact that you’re actually going through with elise’s stupid challenge.

“you’re not seriously going to try and win that stupid bet, are you?” lottie gives you the third degree as she questions you, and you frown at her tone. you aren’t really sure why she sounds so upset. “well, yeah, i mean i want some new shoes and it’s an easy win. how hard can it be to get a few college dudes to dance with me?” you ask uncertainly, and lottie only seems more and more annoyed as you explain yourself. “these guys don’t just wanna dance with you, y/n. they’re all here looking to get laid.” she states, the contemptuousness in her voice causes something inside of your abdomen to tingle.

“obviously i’m not going to let them do that, matthew’s.” you respond as you both come to a stop at the drink station. lottie scoffs as she begins to make your drinks, refusing to answer you anymore. you frown, “you’re such an ass.” you mutter, only adding to her annoyance. she shoots daggers at you with her eyes, “me?? because i don’t want some gross college guy trying anything with you?” she sounds serious, and you can’t help but let your frustration wash away as you realize she’s just worried about you.

“if i didn’t know any better i’d think you’re actually starting to care about me.” you say carefully, as lottie hands you a cup of cranberry vodka. “yeah well, good thing you know better.” she murmurs, and before you can get another word out, an older guy approaches you both. “hey, i’m chris.” he introduces himself, flashing you a shy smile. “y/n.” you respond back, and lottie tries to hide the obvious distaste towards him while he eats you up with his eyes. “do you maybe wanna dance, y/n?” he asks hopefully and you’re about to say yes, when you remember lottie’s obvious indifference towards the bet.

“no, i’m okay. i’m here with someone else.” you simply respond, and the look of disappointment and humiliation etches itself onto his face. “oh, yeah. cool. i’m sorry. i’ll see you around then.” he quickly apologizes before rushing away in the opposite direction. lottie looks at you, visibly befuddled as to why you would turn him down. you shrug at her reaction, taking a sip of your drink, “i can always just blackmail elise into getting me the shoes. she’s not even supposed to be here, let alone have me here. moms gonna flip.” you laugh lightly and suddenly a sense of relief courses throughout the raven haired girl.

she isn’t sure why she was upset at the thought of you dancing with some other guy. the mere thought of some seedy dudes hands on you made her blood boil for reasons she didn’t understand.

it isn’t until lottie is laying in bed later that night; the image of your pretty smile and eyes are the only thing that she can see when she closes her eyes, that she realizes what this is. lottie matthew’s isn’t stupid; she’s aware of what’s happening… she just doesn’t want to admit it. because just last month lottie hated you; now she couldn’t get you out of her head. she was falling fast and she wasn’t sure if she could stop.

[akookminsupporter]

ARE YOU SURE?!: MY THOUGHTS ON THE EIGHTH EPISODE AND THE SHOW IN GENERAL

I know I might be sounding a bit repetitive, but I seriously can’t believe AYS is over. When it was announced and we saw it would last for weeks, it felt like such a crazy long time, but now it seems way too short. It’s just not fair! I want more!

The last episode was the perfect depiction of that final day of your holiday—one you don’t want to end for a million reasons. For Jimin and Jungkook, that last day was their last ‘Freedom Day’ (dramatic, I know!), so it makes sense that it felt a bit melancholic.

I have no doubt that Jimin and Jungkook are just like they were in AYS in their private lives. Even with cameras around, they felt more natural, more themselves. AYS didn’t feel like a show made for us; it felt like they were entertaining themselves and just decided to share it with us.

I loved the last episode because, as I’ve said non-stop these past weeks, I adore how relaxed it was. The slow pace of everything they did, the lovely domesticity—it’s honestly the main reason I love AYS so much. In this last episode, they seemed more laid-back, and Jimin appeared a bit more melancholic, which is totally understandable. I loved that they got to watch the first episode of the show and laughed as much as we did watching them have fun together.

They really tried all sorts of food on the show, and honestly, I hope they paid for it all with the agency's card, haha!

Jimin and Jungkook are incredibly similar in so many ways, yet also different—they’re uniquely the same if that makes sense. They get each other’s jokes, meme references, video clips, and songs. They understand each other's looks and unspoken words; it’s amazing to see. AYS showed us why they never get bored of each other and why they often say they spend hours talking. While others take a break or rest, they’re off playing, chatting, and laughing together. That’s why AYS didn’t feel forced or like just another job for them. It explains why they obviously enjoyed making the show and why they decided to keep filming after they wrapped in the US, even though that wasn’t the original plan. It also explains their comments about wanting to do something similar in the future—12 more seasons, according to Jungkook!

AYS didn’t confirm that they’re a couple or that they’ve been married for 40 years with 30 kids, but it definitely reaffirmed just how close Jimin and Jungkook are. It showcased how different their dynamic is compared to their relationships with other members, especially when Tae was around. If there’s one thing that should be clear after this, it’s that. The fact that they chose to enlist together should be the biggest confirmation of all, but I know for many, that’s still not enough.

AYS was perfect in every sense, from start to finish. I would’ve loved for them to talk a bit more about their decision to enlist together and even about making the show, but then again, it’s Jimin and Jungkook, and there are things they’ll never discuss. It’s frustrating, understandable, and a bit funny all at once.

I’m really going to miss waiting every Thursday for a new episode. I’m going to miss seeing all the different reactions to the same clips on my timeline. I’ll miss the comments on everything new they did and the joy of discovering another layer of Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship. But most of all, I’m going to miss Jimin and Jungkook. I reckon unless they’ve got more things planned, we won’t see them until June 2025. Sure, there are the behind-the-scenes bits and the concert DVD from Seoul, but…

The last clip we saw in the episode, the day they enlisted in the army, was a bit of a shock, and I felt it was a bit cruel of the editors to do that, haha! But at the same time, it was a realistic way to end the show because that was the conclusion of it all, right? The final destination for Jimin and Jungkook. The lovely thing is, they made that journey together, and even after that ending, they’re still together.

I can’t wait to see Jimin and Jungkook in 2025. I’m so curious to see how their dynamic changes after military service. I feel like if they were unbearable together before, they’ll be even more so after!

All I can say is thank you. Thank you, Jimin and Jungkook, for such a beautiful gift. AYS confirmed that seeing you happy makes me happy, and while that just highlights the parasocial relationship I have with you, I also know I’m in this for life.

I can’t wait for 2025!

Note: Here's my list of favourite episodes with links to the posts with each reaction and conclusion:

Second Episode

Sixth Episode

First Episode

Eighth Episode

Fourth Episode

Seventh Episode

Fifth Episode

Third Episode

[soft-pine]

okay so @monstermoviedean is watching s14 rn and her takes are god tier!!! and you should all go read her blog please!

but it just makes me want to talk about lebanon/14.13 so much! like it really is one of my favorite episodes of spn. which is crazy i know because i truly hate john with every fiber of my being but i think this episode reveals so much about him & dean's relationship with him with delicious subtly!

and i've yapped at random on twitter about this but i want to gather all my thoughts in one place.

dean's relationship with john is The most important relationship in spn that i'm interested in unpacking. (i am normal and fine and this has nothing to do with my own issues)

i think for some people who understand john as abusive, it is frustrating and jarring to see him come back after so many years and just be kinda nice. especially given that dean has just finally started to talk to his family about some of the bad things john did.

i maintain that dean has been pretty clear with cas and like random strangers that his dad was shitty. but in 14.11, he tells mary the winchester surprise story. while he doesn't frame the story as truly a critique of john, it is a contrast to his quiet silence and pained expression after newly-resurrected mary says john was a good father in 12.02. in 14.12, dean opens up to sam about how when john was pissed off at dean, he would send him away. this is a stark new light on dean's comments from 7.14 where he apologizes to sam for sometimes "ditching him" when they were kids. sam quickly shuts down dean's apology in 14.12 and subsequent discussion about dean's regrets and feelings about john. but since sam's shift in his opinion about john in 2.02, dean pretty consistently keeps his criticism to himself in front of sam so this is a marked change. and the very next episode script draft includes the infamous "probably pulled the wide-eye hitchhiker routine. dad made me do it all the time on hunts. as bait." so, given the episodes and revelations that bookend 14.13, it's understandable how hard it is to see john and dean interact at all.

but i think it's perfect! because it so clearly shows every truth of their relationship.

firstly, we can look at who john apologizes to. in 1.16, 1.20, and 14.13 john is reunited with sam & dean after time apart. and in all three episodes, he apologizes and/or works to make amends with sam for their fractured relationship. in fact, in 14.13, it's a mention of the winchester surprise that triggers john's apology to sam.

in contrast, the only time john apologizes to dean for his childhood is 2.01 when he says sorry for making dean always have to look after him and sam. and then promptly asks him to kill sam if he has to.

it's crushing to me that at no point does john see the way he treated dean as anything to make amends for. instead, in 1.21 and 14.13, he frames dean not "having a home" or "having a family," "a normal life" as circumstances outside his control or as somehow dean's choice. and yet, john is entirely responsible. he is the one moving dean from school to school, getting him into credit card fraud, taking him on hunts. in 12.09 it's established that dean has as long arrest/warrant record which includes things we never see him getting arrested for in canonical spn. he is the one who always said hunting was temporary (6.02) and yet never allowed for a way out. so even though john's affect is kinder, we know he isn't meaningfully taking accountability for a huge amount of his actions.

it's the reason for the kinder affect we can look at next. because what is one of the most common indicators of abusive dynamics? treating people differently in public vs private. and critically for almost all of 14.13, mary is observing john. and we know that despite their marital problems (5.16), she considered him a good father. he doesn't know that the life he forced sam and dean into is the very worst thing she could have imagined for her children (4.03), but we can tell from his apologies to sam that john is at least aware of things he did which he regrets.

before mary arrives, he is giving sam and dean orders, "You boys better tell me what the hell is going on right now." i recognize he's very disoriented but this affect disappears entirely after mary shows up. i cannot overstate how much i love how not stern and harsh john is here because it shows that he could have always chosen to be like that. but there weren't negative consequences (a wife who might be angry with him) to face.

i've said before that i think one of the reasons that john kept sam & dean away from hunter gatherings and meeting other hunters (2.03, 12.06) is because hunters they met might have acted exactly how dean acts to krissy's dad in 7.11 and told him to quit. the hunters/community john did maintain relationships with were sometimes kinda shitty people - Deacon (2.19), Travis (4.04), Martin (8.09). not that Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim, Bill Harvell, Daniel Elkin were necessarily like that but I do think its worth looking at who John's friends who he didn't have a falling-out with were. Like Fred Jones who gave Sam & Dean their first beers when they weren't even 10 (8.08).

some other details about that first reunion kitchen conversation that always stick out to me are john finishing the drink dean pours for him while dean & sam barely touch theirs. it's also significant to me that dean tells mary in 12.01 that john died to save him. but here, he tells john that he died taking out yellow-eyes (which is literally not what happened. like specifically he died by making a deal with azazel). dean, always working to deescalate and maintain the peace, instantly clocks which thing they will each find more soothing to hear.

one thing that i see people often critique is the idea that john coming back is somehow the thing dean wished for the most. but what dean actually says is that this is something he's wanted since he was four years old. so it's really not about john back at all. john died when dean was 27. but mary died when dean was four. and that cause nearly every hard, traumatic, awful thing in dean's life. to some extent, i think it was about wanting john to have mary back. throughout dean's entire life, john used the loss of mary as an excuse for how he acted and what he made dean & sam do. so of course what dean wants most is... for that not to have happened.

and this brings my to my second favorite part of the episode. but you'll only catch if you're paying attention. dean says he's thrilled to have john back and yet at every chance he gets, he leaves the room john's in. he leaves the kitchen when john reunites with mary. dean gets the grocery list from mary while john has a tearful apology with sam. dean talks to john again only because he has to tell him about the pearl but then leaves to help cook. after dinner, he goes to do the dishes. dean really is not actually trying to spend time with john - even when they get a deadline for when their time with him is over, dean is not trying to make the most of it. and god i love him for that.

i sympathize with people who are frustrated to see dean fall back into the role of caretaker for john's emotions and wellbeing. and i agree but i appreciate that it is very clear that's what's happening. he's performing the role he's always been forced to perform. he may be more aware of it as a performance this time. he may be taking more steps to remove himself from having to interact with john. but i would almost feel worse if he wasn't getting john a drink, doing what he said, going on little errands, cooking, cleaning up. john says "You want to give your mom a hand?" and of course he goes.

i think dean always has held both deep hurt from and empathy for john and this episode is full of both of them. and while i think it's always hard to hear dean slip back into those moments of empathy (8.12 is always rough for me), it's so real that's where he would be sometimes. so much of being a child who's made responsible for your parent's emotions means that there is such a deep part of you that wants to protect them from harm.

i personally think the song "til it shines" by bob seger is an insane choice to play over their dinner scene. because, though that's not the part of the song that plays, the lines "Take the chip off of my shoulder. Smooth out all the lines. Take me out among the rustling pines, till it shines, ah, till it shines" always strike me as trying to see something through rose-tinted glasses in a way. or maybe acknowledging the performative, white-washing that's being done?

anyway, i understand why people want dean to have a cathartic yelling session with john. but honestly im not sure that would ever sit right with me. i think honestly 14.13 is kind of perfect. john comes back and it proves everything. john could always be kind (he took you to a freaking baseball game (4.19)). he could always apologize. he always did say he wanted the boys to get out of hunting but never even tried to make it happen.

and that brings me to my favorite part of the episode. my darling. my baby. my treasure. dean says, "i have a family." and what that means to him is his own. he gets to keep it. he gets to mean it without john's scrutiny. without him tearing it apart. the conversation sam & dean have over dishes is another deeply meaningful part. dean specifically rejects the idea of telling john the truth about any of it - even if it would change things. because he's good with who he is. "Cause our lives – they’re ours."

this matters so much to me because i don't think dean's healing can ever be contingent on john - not on his reaction, not on finally telling him the truth, not on john getting comeuppance for all the shit he did, not even on changing the past so john has more information because the critical thing that 14.13 and 4.19 show is that john literally did not do the best he could. so what could change that?

in the kitchen, dean tells sam that he blamed john for "the longest time". do you understand how much it means to me to hear him say that?! because i think of course blaming john is the first step! dean was hurt and he was angry about that and he should be!

but dean's healing can't just stop there. while i know there will be moments as he heals where he's angry with john again, the beautiful core of dean's healing i see in 14.13 is him being clear on where the boundary of him and his wants, goals, needs, and priorities are vs john's. i think a lot of dean's young relationship with john was him being forced to keep parts of himself (the parts that didn't like to hunt for example) secret out of shame and necessity. but here, i don't think dean is carrying that shame anymore. he is very clear on how what he wants from his life differs from what john would want but dean sticks to his own values. he has a family. he's good with who he is. it's just none of john's goddamn business.

anyway, as always mitski says it best....

plus we get two of THE MOST shots of dean's face of all time for me!!! like my god stabbing me would hurt less!!!

plus! PLUS!! CHERRY ON TOP!!! LOOK AT THESE NOOOOOODLES

in conclusion. your honor, i love her.

[weebsinstash]

In case it wasn't obvious by my complete LACK of screaming, I actually wound up hanging out with family and walking away from the TV before fully completing Hazbin's fourth episode, AKA The One I Know Is Gonna Drive Me Wild 😩❤️ so speaking of poison, time to get drunk again and finish that last episode!

I really gotta say though, as someone who has been chatting with a few other people... laughing howling barking at the amount of people straight up, "yeah Valentino is sexy but now that we know more about him, VOX THOUGH" like the amount of autistic girl pussy this man could pull is WILD

in episode two during the scene introducing VoxTech they make it VERY clear that Vox also straight up has fucking hypnosis powers??? It's when his left eye gets all... woobly? And then when Vox was calming down Val, that same effect was used TWICE, so, lowkey implying Vox tries to "lull" Valentino into a calmer state

"What are you doing, Val"

"You're not going over there."

Also the delivery on that line was hot 😩 imagine Vox saying something to you like "don't leave the studio :)" and he can tell you're not gonna listen to him or you're only half listening and he just repeats himself like THIS, the register of his voice lowers firmly, "You're NOT leaving the studio" and suddenly your head feels kinda fuzzy as he starts telling you all the different reasons it's too crazy outside for you to leave his sight... yeah... guess he's right... better... trust him...

Vox is composed, calculating, cunning, he's the SALESMAN, the sweet-talker, the schemer. Val's yelling and screaming that you ran off and aren't answering his calls and being manic, throwing things, tearing people apart, and meanwhile here's Vox, "calm down Valentino I can just activate the tracker I put on the phone I gave them :)"

remember in the past where I talked about Val getting Reader their first phone down in Hell. I can still see that because Val is fawning over you so much he gives you a phone so he can contact you whenever he wants, like LMAO imagine Val calling texting calling texting and everyone's watching him go fucking crazy "WHY AREN'T THEY RESPONDING fucking BITCH" and here's Angel "Boss they dont even have a phone???? Whose number are you even calling????", BUT I also see Vox doing this because he's the actual one who can do some shit like "oh yeah here's just a little something I threw together, it's the new VPhone 27, it's whatever" and later you find out he gave you the equivalent of like a $3000 iPhone and it has like special features on it that he very clearly put on there just for you but you have no frame of reference so you don't even realize how nice your phone is until someone else comments on it

Also. Valentino snatching Reader's phone and chucking it and completely shattering it and it sends you into a rage, "THAT WAS A GIFT FROM VOX YOU TEMPERAMENTAL PRICK!" and Vox returns from the bathroom or some shit to you yelling and screaming at each other, "You're lucky I don't put something in that smart mouth of yours to teach you some respect you ungrateful whore!!" "well YOU'RE LUCKY I don't sit on your face until you fucking suffocate and die a second time!!" and Vox feels himself getting kinda. Hot watching you two go back and forth, "I should fuckin tie you up until you're begging for me to stop whipping that fat ass of yours RAW!" "Cocky stuck up men like you always cry and whimper the loudest when they get restrained and FUCKED UP THE ASS"

Vox just in shock as you're able to TEAR INTO THIS MAN and walk away completely unscathed, all you guys really do is scream at each other and then 20 minutes later after you've walked away, always YOU to disengage or else he'll just keep going, Val's texting you shortly thereafter, "heeeeeeey baaaaabe, come back 🥺 I miss you ❤️" and then the second you fall for it and come back, "took you long enough, fucking brat" and you're getting pulled into his lap to forcibly cuddle him and be made to brush his chest fur while he makes calls for drug deals and shit

[killualoverr]

₊ ☆ ‧₊˚ → ann, makoto, futaba, and haru general relationship headcanons!

cw: fluff, slightest bit of angst if you squint

note: ahhjflslksdfglds i accidentally deleted this ask :( but anyways i was so excited when i saw this since it's my first request, i hope you enjoy ( ≧ᗜ≦)!!

- big on physical touch and words of affirmation.

- lots of cuddles, kisses, spooning, etc if you let her. she loves that type of intimacy.

- she doesn’t mind pda! if you’re okay with it, she would be pretty affectionate.

- would kiss you on the cheek as a greeting

- if you aren’t a fan of physical touch she'll be minimal with it or just stop all together.

- loves showing you off!!! a big part of her social media page would be her and you. if you don’t like being posted, she would have an album/folder full of pictures of you.

- if anyone says anything even remotely bad about you trust and believe she’s hitting that block button in the blink of an eye.

- appreciates any type of compliments, but compliments beyond her looks make her so insanely happy considering her looks are mostly what she’s usually noticed by.

- she absolutely loves to shower you in compliments too. makes her smile when she sees you get all shy

- if you post yourself on social media expect her to be flooding your comments hyping you up 😭

- absolutely loves doing your makeup/skincare and dressing you up!!!

- ryuji is TIRED of hearing her talk about you. someone save this boy

- “red? speaking of red, y/n-“ “ann. 🙁”

- dates with her consist of going out to dessert places, harajuku, the park, and going to the underground mall.

- makoto is very inexperienced with romance. at the start of your relationship she would pretty much leave most decisions up to you.

- after a bit of time of you guys being together and experimenting with things she learns what she likes and dislikes and sets boundaries about those things. she becomes a lot more comfortable in the relationship after that.

- not a very big fan of pda. she would rather being affectionate like that in a more private setting.

- she’s very easy to fluster! an unexpected hug or kiss and her brain short circuits. 😭😭

- her main love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service.

- makoto tends to overthink so ressurance would play a significant role in your relationship.

- she prefers to show affection in ways like checking up on you and such.

- you’re thirsty? she’s already getting out her water bottle. it’s hot and your hair is bothering you? she should have a hair tie somewhere…

- and so on. anything you need, she’s got it, and if she doesn’t, it’s her top priority to help you out somehow.

- your wellbeing is always on her mind

- she tends to keep to herself a lot, but she tries her best to be vulnerable around you.

- sae doesn’t mind you guys. probably just some playful teasing here and there.

- study dates are very frequent!! she likes them a lot because it allows her to spend time with you and also get things done.

- like makoto, futaba would also be very inexperienced with romance.

- her love languages are physical touch and quality time.

- being in the same room as you whether you’re watching a movie, on your phone, or just sitting in bed doing whatever in complete silence together, means a lot to her.

- if you guys ever go out she very often (if not always) is holding your hand. it makes her less anxious and brings her a sense of comfort.

- “excuse me, she asked for no pickles.” while futaba frantically nods behind you

- she’s a HUGE yapper; she could go on and on talking about a new volume of a manga she’s into, the newest episode of a show she likes, the most recent updates for a game she enjoys playing, etc.

- if you were also interested in the same things as her you guys would nerd out together.

- loves listening to you talk about things you like just as much as she enjoys ranting about her interests.

- would love having matching profile pictures of her favorite ships with you

- she’s the type to send you those slideshow videos that say “us?”

- most dates with her consist of just hanging out at each others houses playing a video game, watching shows together, things of that nature. if you were to do something outdoors you’d most likely be either at akihabara or asakusa.

- omg haru is such a sweetheart of a friend and even more as a your s/o.

- i can easily imagine her being affectionate in private. while she's a bit shy to initiate things at first she slowly gets more comfortable with it later on.

- that being said, she’d be a bit hesitant with pda due to her publicity

- a bit of all but i think her main love languages are quality time and gift giving.

- i feel like she’s big on gift giving because she's rich?? idk, she loves giving you stuff that reminds her of you or something that catches your eye while you guys are out together.

- she would give you flowers she grew herself too

- cuddling is a frequent activity in your relationship! adores playing your hair when you two cuddle, gently running her fingers through and complimenting it

- she’s an amazing listener! not only does she like listening to you talk about anything and everything, she also just enjoys hearing the sound of your voice.

- absolutely refuses to let you pay for anything 😭

- her favorite dates with you are anything involving gardening. if you're inexperienced she is more than happy to coach you and teach you anything and everything you need to know. haru would be open to pretty much anything though, she’s just happy she gets to spend time with you.

[everythingblackblack]

I'm too lazy to make this a fanfic, so I'll just comment on my thoughts.

Do you remember that episode where Hattori and Hakuba confront each other? Well, I wanted to do a little rewriting on this one.

Imagine Hakuba talking to his friends, specifically Aoko and Kaito, telling them that he returned from London to participate in a television show.

Clearly, Aoko drags Kaito and Akako to her house to watch it, but they are surprised to not find the "koushien detective" show. Akako uses her powers to discover where Hakuba is and by observing him through her crystal ball they realize that he is trapped on an island.

They observe what happens there for a while and chat a little.

Kaito: It seems that Hakuba's father keeps comparing him to other detectives.

Aoko: I hate when he says he's not Japanese enough!

Aoko: Hakuba is quite Japanese!

Akako: I don't think I should blame others because his father is stupid, but I understand where his words come from.

Aoko: Plus, Hakuba is better than that fool Shinichi Kudo! Hakuba is the representative of the east!

Kaito: Shouldn't we focus on going to rescue him?

Akako: I've never been to that island, so I can't teleport us.

All this backstory to say, I really like the idea of ​​Kaito going to find Hakuba in a helicopter while he yells "Hebo-tantein!" and Hakuba responds with "Looks like the circus came for me." NOTE: I think Hakuba mentions TOO MUCH how disappointed he is that Hattori is not "a good detective", it made me think a lot that maybe his father compares him to Shinichi and Hattori, but more so to Hattori because he is also the son of a police officer.

Hakuba is probably very envious of Shinichi's title of "Heisei Sherlock Holmes."

[hallowpen]

There was a lot of destructive criticism surrounding My Marvellous Dream is You, but I actually thought the series was quite good despite its shortcomings. I'm a lot more forgiving than most when it comes to Thai GL series, and that will have absolutely affected my viewing experience. But... every time I would see a comment that just read "This is boring/terrible/stupid" without ever elaborating, I felt very much like Khun Pu's character from Be My Favorite hehe

*WARNING*: There will be minor spoilers for the final episode of My Marvellous Dream is You, should that be something you wish to avoid.

I will be the first to admit, that I was very skeptical about this series in the first handful of episodes. So let's just get my personal negatives out of the way first... I think, by now, it's no secret that I do not support where a lot of Thai GL adaptations source from. So, this series already had an admittedly disadvantaged subjective expectation from the get go. It wasn't really surprising to see pacing issues within the first 5ish episodes, that seems to be a common occurrence in Thai GLs produced by IDOLfactory. Whether that is a result of the novels the series have thus far been adapted from OR from a choice in direction is up to you. I, personally, think it's a bit of both. Where I believe certain productions struggle in letting their narratives breathe, I find the complete opposite problem to be true with IDOLfactory. There were a lot of plot points that needed restructuring or to be removed entirely in order to have a stronger cohesive story that focused on the main characters' relationship more so than it did.

Now, while I stand behind my opinion that the series could have benefited from tighter and better organized storytelling, a lot of the groundwork was there to make a decent character driven narrative. And that's what I've chosen to focus on. Wan and Kim are both deeply flawed characters. There were so many inferences to be drawn from character relevant visuals and their joint backstory that truly informed their current dynamic.

The👏🏾character👏🏾focused👏🏾visuals👏🏾in👏🏾this👏🏾show!!!

One of the most interesting parts of watching a series, for me, is having to pick up on certain character cues in order to understand and delve deeper into the core of their behaviors.

Wan and Kim share a trauma, and it's easy to see how they both became so dependent on one another to fill the void their fathers left.

In flashbacks, Wan is presented as egoistic and headstrong since high school. She is also shown to be extremely protective of Kim before she even realizes her feelings. Kim, on the other hand, is a bit more sensitive. She cherishes Wan's attention and affection to a point where she would be willing to play a little dirty in order to keep it for herself.

All of these emotions become heightened once they are forced into adult life with adult problems. Wan is struggling with her mental health. While trying to balance fame and the repercussions her actions might have on her career, Wan must also deal with her mother's alcoholism... which has essentially caused her to check out from Wan's life. Her need to have Kim by her side, and never leave her, has become less protective and more possessive. Kim's desire for approval and affection has led to an over devotion of herself to Wan and constant worrying about disappointing her mother. She's neglected her own wants and needs for so long, that she's afraid putting herself first would be considered too selfish...too much like her dad. Her mother's cancer diagnosis further pushes Kim to continue to place her mother's wishes over her own desires. Even though comments about Wan and Kim being 'annoying' or 'frustrating' were aiming to be negative... they weren't exactly wrong. The audience was supposed to feel that way. Heck, even the surrounding characters called out their behavior on more than one occasion. Because in an effort to not lose one another, Kim and Wan fell into a cyclically unhealthy dynamic where their actions and reactions were actually pushing each other away. Their inability to communicate their true feelings to each other beyond their (unbeknownst) shared dreams prevented them from making any true progress toward a romantic relationship that they both so desperately wanted, but were each terribly afraid to pursue. Their feelings for each other were put up against the reality that their love being unreciprocated could spell the end of their relationship altogether. There was an added pressure of being unfairly compared to their fathers, where any romance between them might be found 'unacceptable'. Couple that with societal views of same-sex relationships, and you can understand why these two were so hesitant to reveal their truths.

(Quick sidenote: I did not agree with the idea that what Kim and Wan did was exactly the same to what their fathers did. They did not leave and abandon their families. Marwin didn't make it easy for them, and given the glimpse we saw into his family's cruelty, it made all the sense in the world to have him react in the way he did. Kim and Wan were at least willing to stay and face the hard consequences of their choice, no matter the outcome.)

I think them having to work through all of their issues made the moment of Kim and Wan finally deciding to be together that much more satisfying... And that was the point Kru A was trying to make when he explained his direction for their relationship on social media after hearing viewer feedback (He was subsequently rudely criticized by interfans for that decision, to the point where he alluded to the fact that he might take a break from directing... but that's a whole other discussion).

That final scene of them being married purposely not clarifying whether it was in a dream or in reality alluded to the fact that their shared dream world and their real life were no longer at odds, finally. I thought it was very fitting.

The frustration caused by KimWan's lack of communication reminded me of a similar dynamic between Team and Win in Between Us, a series that suffered from a lot of the same problems (not enough focus on the two leads and irrelevant plot points). However, those characters and the actors that portrayed them didn't receive even half the amount of negative reactions. They existed, trust me, but there were a lot of positive reviews to balance it out. I'm not going to get into what that means, because I think you can make the inference for yourself.

All in all, I don't think this series deserves to be completely written off. Is it perfect? No... but an effort was made, and it wouldn't hurt to make the effort in return to understand the vision. Fay and May did an incredible job for their first go around as main leads. And I hope they get the chance to develop their craft further.